The Dutch roundabout belongs in one of Dante’s circles of Hell

Iam glad to say I live on the other side of town to Cambridge’s new “Dutch style” roundabout, because just looking at photos brings me out in hives. The layout more closely resembles a Ludo board than a roundabout, and winning – in terms of crossing the darn thing – appears to require similar levels of luck and guesswork.

Each approach has a zebra crossing, giving pedestrians priority, and when you’ve negotiated that in your motor you are faced with a red-surfaced outer ring for cyclists, to whom you should also give way. There are also some bamboozling grassy features that narrow the roundabout and which I’d be tempted to park on while I scratched my poor addled head.

It’s no wonder that within days of the grand opening a car had crashed into “an unfinished beacon”. I’m guessing they thought they’d somehow landed in a parallel universe, where our alien overlords all wear bike helmets.

I must confess, roundabouts strain my concentration at the best of times. When I drive along the outskirts of Milton Keynes, the Mecca for circular traffic-flow fetishists, my blood pressure goes through the roof. There’s the constant underlying anxiety about taking the correct turning (I’ve been known to drive round the beastly things four times in a row before getting it right). Then there’s an equal fear I’ll hover at the give-way point for many minutes in my submissive low-acceleration Ford Focus, while other bolder drivers barge their way into the flow and the people behind me honk horns in fury. If I decide to join the inner traffic circle, I never quite know when to move to the outer one. In fact, it strikes me Dante could have usefully added a roundabout to his seven circles of hell.

You would have thought when the grand panjandrums of road design decided to reinvent the roundabout, they would have made it easier for slow-witted motorists like me to understand the rules. Instead they’ve made it a game of risk and dare, like Crossy Road.

I say this from dual perspectives, as I spend most of my time in Cambridge on my bike. Do I trust this roundabout from a cyclist’s perspective? Ha! About as much as I trust Donald Trump to be the soul of diplomacy – and local residents say the same. If drivers haven’t come across a Dutch roundabout before, how will they know to stop for little ol’ me on my sit-up-and-beg bike? It may not be a coincidence that it’s very well placed for Addenbrooke’s Hospital.

The geniuses from the local county council have recently “improved” my local zebra crossing in North Cambridge, so it has a bike crossing running parallel to it. Roughly a third of cars show no sign they feel they should brake for a bicycle on this track, and speeding cyclists can be even worse offenders. I fear for children every time they use it.

But by far the most eye-popping aspect of the Dutch roundabout is its cost. The original estimate was £800,000. By kick-off that figure was £1.4 million, and by the time of opening it came in at £2.4 million. Cambridgeshire county council now says it will review how it carries out project management and cost estimates for infrastructure schemes. As a wiser person than me once said, “No s---, Sherlock.”

In fact they could give me a pack of Sharpies and I’ll design a lovely British roundabout for a tenner. We’ll put a maypole in the middle, get Morris Dancers to open it and it will still be simpler than the Dutch one.