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But then the opportunity to drive the new Aston came along. Hmmm. This would mean coming off the painkillers for a day, and putting up with the agony so I could have a thrash in a car with a ride I suspected would be hard enough to make things even worse.

The doctor said I'd be mad. My wife said I'd be mad. But they don't understand.

You see, I've never really thought about buying a DB9 for a number of reasons. It's a beautiful car, of course, and possibly the best GT in the world, but for purely personal reasons, it's not quite me.

First, I have an innate wariness about the complexity of a V12. And second, there's the fact that it's just not quite sporty enough.

The Vantage seems to address both issues. It has a 4.3-litre version of Jaguar's Welsh-made V8, and with its short wheelbase and Nürburgring handling, would almost certainly have the lemon-fresh zest of a 911. Deep down, I wasn't driving this car for your benefit. I was driving it to see if I'd like to buy one. I was driving it for mine.

First things first: the styling. To the casual observer, it's a DB9, but actually the two are completely different. The Vantage has an even prettier backside, a much more aggressive stance and a roofline that's a full two inches lower than a Porsche 911's.

It's an absolute honey. Until you happen to take a quick walk round to the front. Viewed from dead ahead, the wheels are completely hidden by a huge spoiler and it really doesn't work at all.

Still, the quality of the panel fit is exceptional and there's more good news inside. As with the DB9, the doors open upwards slightly so you don't catch them on high kerbs. You even get DB9 door handles and that's just the start. You get DB9 everything; dials, buttons, knobs, the lot.

That's great, because they're elegant, and yet somehow, I wish it were different. It looks like they might have been saving money and 'diesel thinking' has no place in the bespoke world of cars like this.

So far as I can tell, you even get DB9 seats and that's not very nice, either, because the backrest is too concave. This is fine if you're fat, but not so good if you're not. And really bad news if your spine's broken. Still, I climbed in (ouch), turned the key, pushed the starter button and waited for that characteristic Aston start-up bellow.

It didn't come. The V8 started to make a noise, so I pressed the nice 'n' light clutch, tensed bicep before engaging first on the He-Man six-speed 'box and, for the first time in three weeks, actually found myself going for a drive.