WHERE did it all go wrong? Maybe it was the time I got called a Paki for nicking someone's spot in the queue. Or maybe it was the time I looked at a local Billy Blanco from the Bronx the wrong way and he chased me home. Or could it be the time I thought I could make a quick buck and off load my Toyota.

Well at least I learned one thing....don't try to sell your car my dear friends...because I'm telling you there's some real hardcore tight-fisted sons of b***** out there.

First of all they ring you up and pretend to be thick and ask you question after question.

For the next fifteen minutes you end up reading the advert for them. They have it in front of them but still want you to read everything and describe the picture.

And what is it with some of you guys...why the hell are you ringing up at 4.30 in the morning. Who the hell is going to let you have a look at it at that time of day?

The inspection is a real waste of time. Five guys turn up to study the vehicle. And boy do they study...each one is an expert on a different area of the car...these guys were serious tyre kickers I tell you. They leave and then return to have one last look and then ask me about my house and if I ever considered selling that.

Hours later they're back with some other bloke who I later found out was the guy who actually wanted the car. He offers me a stupid price and then pleads with me to sell it to him. And so it goes on...and on...and on...phrases like 'I'll pay cash now'...and...'Why are you being like that for brother?'...and...'What is your last price?...and...'but there be's a scratch on the bumper' are used throughout our conversation until I lose my rag and tell them all to get lost.

The slow walk and the sheepish guilty looks follow. It doesn't stop there, for the next couple of days they drive past my house to see if I ever sold the car.

Maybe it's in the blood because when I go to purchase a motor I do exactly the same thing. But I've got some secret tricks up my sleeve.

Firstly, I send six of my cousins down to have a look at the car and offer the poor fellow ridiculous prices. Then I turn up and offer him twenty quid more. Secondly, I wear a suit...that way you tend to get some free food...like samosas.

Thirdly, if the seller is a woman I take my mum along....just in case I get lucky and they want to meet my family.

Getting the price down is tough, especially if you come across uncle G. You could plead all day but uncle G will never budge because he takes it personally. He doesn't get angry, never tells you leave and half the time it seems he isn't even listening to you. In the end you just walk off.