Block party: Who can build the ultimate lego car in 90 minutes?

“The narrow rear track is making me feel quite faint, tbh,” said dynamics expert Matt Saunders, not unreasonably, but it’s only through sour grapes that I mention that. With 13 votes, it was the runaway winner.

“The red one is the best,” said Culmer.

“The red one, the buggy and then the white one in fourth,” said Mark Tisshaw.

“Bloody hell, you office lot have it easy, don’t you?” said photographer Max Edleston.

Matt Prior - Off-road Hypercar

Some car makers insist that their official press pictures are taken from very specific angles and distances and that they’re then heavily post-processed.

But the public will see a car from all sides, so it’s a nonsense practice that I’ve never had time for. Until I realised Felix had taken a picture of my off-road hypercar diorama from the wrong side. Clearly, the scenery is meant to be at the back.

It wasn’t cheating or obfuscation to include scene-setting, by the way. I just had time, owing to the fact that the buggy isn’t actually that complicated.

I started by finding the wheels, because that would set the tone for the whole piece. There weren’t loads of the right size, as Felix found, so I knew this had to be an off-road sports car.

I found a driver to add a human touch and a sense of scale. Next, I decided on the wheelbase, placing my axles to give a shorter front than rear overhang, because proportionally that looks faster.

Then I got rummaging: I placed a canopy to one side, found what looked like an engine complete with an intake – result! – and it soon started to resemble the concept.

Next came the details, and I probably overdid some, even though the buggy is made from only 30-40 pieces. A little aero went on. Front and rear lights too. I raised the air scoop to an effective height. Job done, and with time to spare.

Instead of twiddling my thumbs while waiting for the other lads, I thought I’d put the buggy into context. I found a base piece and added some grey and brown surfacing to represent a rough track.

Planted some trees. Erected a derelict building and a discarded wagon wheel, with the idea being that it looks like the buggy is racing through the Baja or Mediterranean cross-country rally.

I was pleased with the proportions (although I think in the end I put too much bulk on the nose) and if these three vehicles were real, it’s the one I’d most like to drive.

So, satisfied, I sat back and relaxed, while Felix carelessly photographed it from the rear rather than the front and emailed the entire editorial team. Sigh.

But live by the sword, die by it, etc: the design has to stand up to scrutiny regardless of how it is photographed, so I’ll take it on the chin. Bravo, Samuel.

Sam Phillips - Armstrong Piddly

I’ll admit, reader, that while my engineering prowess doesn’t stretch that broadly, I do have an extensive array of Lego sets tucked away in various locations at home.

Entering the thrilling arena (office boardroom) to two large boxes full of Lego felt like I was back at school during wet play; similarly incredible vehicles were conceived back then too.

As someone with a penchant for barrelling up muddy hillsides in a classic trials-prepared buggy, I decided to use this as inspiration for my Lego creation.

With no prior knowledge of the type of bricks we’d be presented with to build our models, I planned to keep things simple, using flatter shapes for the chassis and then smaller blocks for the body.

And if our tubs of Lego – provided by Page – contained Technic parts, I’d use those for the axles.

I can’t fault our deputy editor’s supply of materials or his dedication in rummaging through the bricks to find only white parts for his ‘interesting’ E-Dirty M3.

The vast array of Lego bits was almost overwhelming and, in my quest to source Technic parts, I found myself with too many pieces to choose from.

And while I was frantically readjusting my chassis to make it align with the idea I had in my head, Page and Prior stormed ahead, fashioning their structures early on.

After a lot of trial and error (and some foul-mouthedness), the Armstrong Piddly began to take shape. The bonnet, windscreen and helmet-wearing Lego figure enhanced my creation and the spare wheel and roll bar were added for a true classic trials look.

Then came the marriage between the front axle and the bulkhead, which thankfully came together during the dying minutes of the challenge.

In my head, I envisaged my car to look like a Dellow Mk1 or Troll T6. What transpired was something along the lines of a Maserati 250F that had crashed into the back of the walrus-faced Williams FW26.

I’m inclined to agree with the sentiments of Matt Saunders: given more time, I’d have found longer axles for the rear wheels and tidied up the front end. But I’m glad I opted for bigger alloys, as these certainly supported my car’s theme and its buggy-like proportions.

With Page’s admission of foul play pre-tournament and Prior’s attempt to win over judges with what he called “an environment” for his model, it seemed only fair that the man who employed honest tactics in his building process should claim victory.

Mind you, I was hoping for a better prize than a Lego trophy crafted by our editor-at-large.

Felix Page – E-dirty M3

I tried to compensate for my total lack of any engineering proclivities by, essentially, cheating.

The titanic pile of Lego that we rummaged through for this challenge was liberated from my childhood bedroom, which meant that before I met up with Prior and Phillips, I had a couple of days alone with the blocks to formulate a bit of a game plan. For all the good it did.

After a fashion, I deduced that the traditional Lego block lends itself rather well to the sort of blocky, angular silhouette we associate with the cars of the 1980s, and because my lack of dexterity and ingenuity precluded any attempt to imbue my creation with any of that period’s famous technical innovation, I needed to aim for a simpler – dare I say purer – design.

That’s why I began by attempting to basically recreate the BMW ‘E30’ M3. The straight-edged, three-box silhouette of Munich’s seminal sports saloon should theoretically be among the easiest of any car to reproduce with ‘traditional’ Lego, and I was pretty happy with my progress for the first 30 minutes or so, but then it seemed like the cavernous tubs were quickly emptying and the clock hands were running at double speed. Panic set in.

I think the trouble was that I had too rigid an idea of what I wanted to achieve and almost totally sacrificed whimsy and innovation in my unyielding pursuit of that.

I’d find a brick of the right colour – your classic single-row sixer, for example – and stop at nothing to ensure it was incorporated in some way, be it as a sill strengthener, an unseen axle mounting point or just tacked uselessly in the middle of the floorpan.