Apart from anything else, if you don't know what the Nürburgring is, why it's significant to this car and roughly what it looks like, the impression is merely that the trimmer practised on the centre console before tackling that tricky bit round the instrument binnacle. And you're going to have to explain to your passengers why your focussed, high-powered enthusiasts' limited-edition supercar has embroidery in it.

Still, even if the N400 isn't noticeably quicker than the standard car, the engine is magnificent, giving a curious little clatter at tick-over and enough proper mechanical noise during use to remind you that this is a real engine working hard.

At just below 4,000rpm, there is a harmonic sweet spot that delivers a brief buzz to the coccyx, which is strangely satisfying. Meanwhile, in automatic mode, the optional paddle-shift of my car delivers more of a light thump in the guts at every change up. It really doesn't work as a self-shifter.

Even in manual mode, a great deal of care is needed with the throttle to smooth the changes. It's perfectly possible to hold the pedal flat and simply plip the paddles, but only if you enjoy the sensation of being struck between the shoulder blades with a leather mallet. I'd stick with Aston's chunky but dependable regular manual gearbox, and spend the £3,000 demanded for Sportshift on something more useful. Coat hangers. Anything.

To be honest, I'd be inclined to stick with the standard car altogether. I appreciate the allure of the race-tuned suspension, and what a good boast it is down the pub, but in reality, it's just too hard. In fairness, there is a button marked 'comfort' on the fascia; sadly, when I pressed it, absolutely nothing happened. I'm pretty convinced it's just a button with a small light bulb behind it.

And it's not just that the ride is a mess, especially at low speed, or that the dashboard creaks alarmingly in protest. The combination of fat rubber and no give makes the N400 squirm about on poor surfaces. This problem is not quite as apparent as it was in the N24, but that's a bit like saying Joan of Arc didn't die as horribly as Edward II. I also sense that the new set-up leads to slightly disconcerting initial understeer in fast, fairly tight corners.

All in all, it seems a high price to pay for the knowledge that your Aston isn't just a regular road car, but one that benefits directly from experience at the racetrack. To my mind, it doesn't, and as the best bit of the N400 - the uprated engine - will be available on the standard car soon, it would make more sense to wait for that.

What really worries me, though, is that Aston Martin appears to be degenerating into a maker of special editions of its existing cars. We've had the DBS, the DB9 LM and now this. I know there is a historical precedent for race-derived Astons dating back to the Fifties, but there's a historical precedent for bear-baiting and morris dancing as well.

In my lifetime, great Astons were the original V8, the Nineties V8 Coupe, and the DB7 Vantage convertible; caddish GTs for rotters with floppy hair who thought the Nürburgring was a rally with bunting and singing, not focussed tools for crew-cut fools who think Nomex is acceptable.

Am I the only person who feels like this?