RACHEL Hunter had better beware. So should any other female who gets involved with Robbie Williams.

The 28-year-old singer has just bought a flashy sports car -- but, guess what? He can't drive. He employs a chauffeur to ferry him around.

Rather like my husband. He has a chauffeur -- only I don't get paid for these duties. I haven't even got a cap.

I have mentioned my husband's hatred of driving in the past, but it's grown from a slight allergy to a full-blown phobia. He refuses to place his derriere anywhere but the passenger seat, and when I suggest that he might like to drive he goes so far as to get out and refuse to go on our planned outing.

He belongs to a tiny minority of non-driving males who are content to let their wives and girlfriends take the strain.

I didn't mind so much before we had children. In fact, I was happy to take the wheel on weekend excursions. But, with the demands placed upon us by two young daughters whose social engagements rival those of Tara Palmer-Tompkinson, I resent being the parent who is forever dropping off and picking up.

I pressured my husband to learn to drive for this very reason. He took his test at the age of 32 and, unlike me, he passed first time. But he drives so rarely that he's all but forgotten the Highway Code, so when I'm in the passenger seat I'm a nervous wreck.

The ever-more frequent trips to the supermarket are also a sore point in our house. It's all very well my husband offering to get the groceries on foot. But he knows full well that even a time-served hod-carrier would struggle to lug a dozen bulging carrier bags the two-and-a-half miles from Tesco back to our house. Then there's DIY materials -- which are a permanent feature of our home. I'm the one who goes to Homebase for sacks of plaster, bags of potting compost and various other hefty loads that my husband proposes to carry home.

Sometimes I let him do just that, knowing that he will sweat buckets and grimace with pain simply to avoid turning the key in the ignition.

I wouldn't mind so much if he was on some sort of environmental crusade, if he was trying in his own small way to help save the planet. But he releases enough CFCs every morning during his cleansing routine to double the hole in the ozone layer that I don't think he can be that bothered.

I suppose Robbie Williams has the excuse of not driving by having not passed his test.

He is having lessons, but as a late learner -- my husband was 32 when he took his test -- he may have grown so accustomed to relaxing in the passenger seat, taking in the view, and drinking as much alcohol as he pleases, that he will soon be relying on others again.