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Where do you start with cars like these? Well, in this case, we started with an early flight from Gatwick to Bologna. We were met at Bologna airport by Alfredo from Land Rover Italy, who gave us a Freelander diesel to drive for a few days. We set the Freelander's satnav to take us to a destination in Sant'Agata, then on to another destination in Maranello. Simple. A flight, a couple of waypoints, normal procedure. Routine stuff. We were so excited, we nearly shat ourselves.

Once outside the airport and trundling along in the trusty Landy - a vehicle we'd grow to adore over the next three days - we phoned Mauro Calo, the safe pair of hands who'd been given the rotten task of driving a black £160,000 Aston Martin DBS down to northern Italy from Top Gear HQ in London.

He was near Sant'Agata already. We agreed he should park discreetly nearby and wander up to the Lamborghini factory on foot - best not drop a DBS right into the visitor's parking area of a rival supercar maker. They don't like comparison tests much, the Italians.

When Mauro turned up, Schofield: driver, Norris: art director, Wycherley: photographer and yours truly: writer, were wandering round in a kind of trance in the Lamborghini factory museum, gazing at Uraccos and Miuras and Countaches and Diablos.

We five car-loving numbnuts were in hog heaven, feeling just how you would feel: expectant and thrilled and wondering what on earth we'd done to deserve all this. For at that moment, there was a
99.9 per cent chance that Lamborghini would give us a £192,000 Murciélago LP640 to punt around an ice track and thrash through
the hills of northern Italy for a few days.

Half an hour after that, there was a 99.9 percent chance that Ferrari would give us a £179,000 599 Fiorano to punt around an ice track and thrash through the hills of northern Italy for a few days. We'd have appreciated the diesel Freelander on its own, but these three? This was fever.

Somehow, I'll have to swallow my guilt at being there without you, and tell you what these mighty supercars are like to punt around an ice track and thrash through the hills of northern Italy for a few days.

Soon, all three supercars were sitting side by side in a little square in Maranello centre - that'll be 18,430cc, 1752bhp, £531,502 and 604mph in one tiny car park, with five happy car-loving numbnuts scurrying around like over-excited dogs, not quite knowing where to look or where to pee. The three greatest supercars on earth? No arguments here.

There isn't really a fourth car for this comparo, because nothing quite makes the cut. We thought about a Continental GT Speed, but Bentley wasn't flexible enough to get us one in time, and we thought it too heavy, anyway, despite its 600bhp and 12 cylinders. We were tempted by Paganis and Ascaris and Koenigseggs, but they don't have the right names or the right heritage, and they're all a bit sharp and pointy.

And no, not even Porsche can play at this party. The 523bhp, £131,000, 204mph GT2 raises a plaintive hand, but a pumped-up 911 is ultimately not special or exclusive enough in this exalted company. And it fails spectacularly at being a V12. Sorry. Aston Martin, Lamborghini and Ferrari are up there in the rarified supercar stratosphere, beyond Porsche's ceiling, whether the proud Germans like it or not. For now, these three great marques fight it out alone. They deserve to.