Replace the zig-zag greenery for lumps of your favourite fromage and cast traditional cartography to the bowels of your brain.

Now, what would you say Britain was on this smorgasbord of smelliness? A Babybel? A Dairylea triangle? Possibly.

But what about the world's two so-called sleeping superpowers that flexed their muscles this week?

I am of course talking about China and Russia - enormous Edam and gargantuan Gorgonzola respectively.

Firstly, China showed us what Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory would look like were the Umpah Lumpahs to discover Viagra, as they went about their opening ceremony to the 2008 Olympics.

I have never, ever, seen anything quite like it. But as the Chinese grinned like Wallace and Gromit with a winning Lotto ticket, I couldn't help but feel this was more like a poisonous frog warning would-be predators that it isn't to be trifled with.

Then there's the Vodka swilling, flappy-hat wearing Russians. Little Georgia - which isn't even the waxy wrapper on a Babybel - dares to utter a squeak of dissent, and suddenly Vladimir Putin has mobilised hell - on tank-tracks.

And all of this cracking walnuts with sledgehammers brings me nicely onto the Volvo XC-90 D5.

At over 2,100kgs - before anyone even gets into the thing - it is fair to say this is a big cheese. It's a Ford Mondeo and Ka put together in kerbweight terms.

So, to test its credentials, I booked it in for the weekend of my beloved brother's wedding, where I was expected to ferry my other half and my parents 125 miles - luggage, gifts, cakes, hats and all.

I needn't have worried. In fact, I think the XC-90 perked up when it realised I was going to stuff it to the gills and romp across the country.

The Volvo had something of an automotive assault course before it - the Krypton Factor for cars, if you like.

First of all I needed the boot. Removing the parcel shelf and dog mesh thingy were a bit of a faff but the seats went down with a minimum of fuss. Pull a lever, yank a chord and hey presto - a mini-van.

Now, losing two seats only leaves you with a paltry five pews, so be warned. But you should have seen how many suitcases, boxes, suits, beverages and other wedding paraphernalia I crammed in. If push came to shove I reckon I could have put the marquee up in there.

And so with all this extra weight this behemoth was going to struggle. Wrong.

You'd think the first round at the other end included a pint of diesel with a lemonade top - with the XC-90's name on it - judging by the way it galloped up the A1.

There was a time when 185bhp was to be bragged about, but in a car like this it isn't all that. However, the aluminium 2.4-litre five-cylinder engine generates 400Nm torque - only 40Nm shy of the bespoke 4.4-litre V8 Yamaha lump that can propel the flagship XC-90 to 60mph in 6.9 seconds.

As a result the oil-burning incarnation feels plenty quick and remarkably smooth. It will also offer you, as it did me, over 35mpg on a good run.

The closest I got to ploughing a field with my Chelsea tractor was plugging through a boggy farm track. For me to say the XC-90 did this with aplomb would be akin to saying the teaspoon on my desk is ideal for transporting yoghurt to my cakehole. Duh!

£10,000 will buy you an '05 model with less than 60,000 miles on the clock. But if you have £30,000 in your skyrocket for a brand new motor, this big cheese is a bit of a cracker!