Yes, car horns are shockingly noisy – surely that’s the point

Each night, as I set my alarm, I urge myself to wake naturally just before it sounds. It goes off at Defcon 1 – anything less combative fails to drag me into consciousness – and has me leaping from my bed in full fight-or-flight mode the second it sounds.

It really is a horrible way to start the day, especially for my husband; he prefers to be gently roused from his slumber by an alarm that delivers the morning headlines with the volume set to gradually increase from a soft murmur over a minute or so. But however much he complains, I’m up first and mine offers the only guarantee I will be so on time, so we’re stuck with it.

Annoying noises – some traumatically so – sit among life’s infuriating necessities. They grab our attention, warn us of imminent danger and make us jump out of harm’s way. Take the honk of a car horn, for example: it’s one of the most aggravating sources of noise pollution going, particularly when used by the idiots who seem to think sounding it loudly and often will magically part standing traffic during rush hour on the M1. But if it weren’t for mine I’d have run over goodness knows how many imbecilic teenagers by now, strangely convinced that their texting imparts supernatural powers allowing them to step blindly out in front of cars and survive unscathed.

Which is why I’m a bit perplexed by news that sound experts have been meddling with the classic Klaxon “ah-oo-gah” car horn sound that’s been around since 1908, with a view to making it less stressful on the ears. After trying out 100 horn variations on volunteers, they concluded that something that sounds like a quacking duck will be more pedestrian-friendly.

I suppose that would make being stuck in a traffic jam mildly amusing – especially if they brought out a whole range of farmyard-inspired horns. But I’m unconvinced the sound of a honking duck is quite the noise I’ll be looking for the next time I want to startle a fellow driver out of cutting me up on a roundabout.

The whole point of a car horn is that it can be heard above the roar of traffic and whatever noises you’re making inside your own vehicle. It’s not meant to be pleasant. In evolutionary terms, the human being who in 2017 would jump at a car backfiring or a kettle beginning to whistle would be the same person who survived in prehistory when they heard the crack of a twig under paw.

There are, of course, certain noises that some of us would like to have banned altogether. My middle girl is driven to madness by the sound of people crunching on crisps – just the sight of a bag about to be opened will see her run screaming from the room demanding to know why the perpetrator hates her so much. My own peccadillo is that I can’t abide the sound of my husband bolting our kitchen door shut before he comes up to bed. I go into an instant panic as I do a mental roll call of who’s in and who’s out, terrified that someone might inadvertently end up locked out for the night.

A friend finds the alarm that sounds to warn the train doors are closing on the London Underground terrifying – it’s only there to warn people it’s too late to climb aboard, but instantly makes her feel as though she’s trapped inside the carriage and might never get out again. Perhaps they might consider changing it to a gentle mooing sound, so she can start her journey less perturbed.