This of course isn't MG's first badge engineering exercise. Although the Montego and Maestro only linger in our memories as beige nightmares, the MG badge did adorn the more tasty variants including the rather mental Tickford Turbo Maestro. Check them out here: MG Links

The UK ads for the MG-ZT promise 'fire breathing, full bodied, red blooded' pleasures. In a country where driving fast is as socially acceptable as puffing a Cuban cigar in a children's hospital, MG's message is welcome news for petrolheads. Still, let's not get carried away; it's only advertising. Or is it? Does the MG-ZT actually live up to the hype? Or is it an empty marketing exercise, shamelessly exploiting one of motor sport's most distinguished marques?

The new Range Rover is Top Gear's magazine's Car of the Year. Car? I'm sorry, but my definition of a 'car' doesn't include vehicles taller than six feet that weigh nearly two and a half tons. The Range Rover is, according to US environmental and safety regulations, a truck. Truck by name, truck by nature. No amount of ABS, traction control and terrain sensing suspension can alter The Laws of Physics: mountainous mass X V8 acceleration + slippery surface = endless understeer oblivion. As Top Gear's own writer put it, the Range Rover's quest for soft-road world domination will ultimately end 'in a ditch'.

The snow falling from the leaden sky over Pffanhausen made me nervous. As did the fact that Natalie Campagna, Keeper of the Keys for RUF Automobile De, couldn't look me in the eye. And no wonder: Alois Ruf himself had just called to forbid the English journalist from driving the R-Turbo. On the face of it, it was an entirely sensible decision. Five hundred and twenty horsepower and drifting snow are not the ideal combination for a test drive- especially when the car in question belongs to a customer.

Plan B involved a ride in the passenger seat with a RUF technician at the helm, followed by a 'small spin behind the wheels.' As I helped push the immaculate R-Turbo out of the showroom, I hoped something had been lost in the translation. I took comfort in the fact that RUF's official press car- a yellow, rear-wheel-drive machine-was busy making sushi out of lesser cars in Japan. This silver car had four-wheel-drive and stability control. Oh, that's all right then… isn't it?

Blasting down an unrestricted section of autobahn at 125 miles per hour, the new Mercedes SL did something extraordinary: it kicked down. There I was, as nervous as a human cannonball aimed at a brick wall, and the SL just reaches down, grabs some more power, and slings me all the way to 155. All my doubts about Mercedes' range topper vanished. It's totally safe, faultlessly efficient and plenty damn fast. It is, in fact, the perfect car.

Oh, OK, the turn indicators sound cheap and nasty. The vanity mirrors are too small, and lack an indent for easy opening. The driver's visor is too tightly sprung; try to find a shallow angle and it just might snap your fingers off. And, um, that's it. It's perfect.

Speed matters. So does size. A Lamborghini Murcielago can crest 200mph on an autobahn, but it’s slower than a pair of roller skates down a busy city street. Enter Mercedes’ chic new SMART car. It’s tiny– small enough to dart through any gap wider than an NFL lineman. It’s quick– well, “nippy”. It uses less fuel than a John Deere lawn mower. In fact, the SMART should be an urban driver’s dream come true. It isn’t.

Are you a poser or a purist? Be honest. Provided you don't crash into a parked car while clocking yourself in a shop window, there's nothing wrong with buying a sports car to flatter your ego. But if you're more concerned about perception than performance, the RUF 3400S is not for you. It's a Porsche Boxster. Yes, RUF have modified this particular version to blast from zero to sixty in well under six seconds and out-corner a Ferrari, but it's still a hairdresser's car. Compared to the fearsome 911, the Boxster has about as much street cred as a dark blue M&S suit.

Ah, but if you are a purist, get ready for a treat. You'll already know the Boxster has one-up on its 911 stable mate: a mid-engine layout. (For the blissfully ignorant, the 911's engine sits behind the rear wheels. During heavy cornering, the car must use clever tricks to stop the rear end from saying, 'Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I'm the leader.') What purists can't know- at least until they drive the 3400S- is the Boxster's true magnificence. The official Porsche product just doesn't have enough power to exploit the Boxster's dynamic capabilities. In other words, it's too damn slow.

The Jaguar XK8 is a classic. Six years after its debut, the design is still fresh, bold and dramatic. It's one of those cars that somehow looks fast standing still. Okay, viewed from the side, the boot is about two feet too long- thanks to US regulations requiring all expensive cars to accommodate two golf bags. Even so, the Jag rules. Freshened Porsches, Mercs, Beemers and Lexi still can't compete with the XK's svelte aggression. Slinking into the club's parking lot, the Jag proclaims, 'Look out boys, this cat has claws!'

Except it doesn't. Yes, the XK is fast. The standard 4.0 litre car zooms from zero to sixty in 6.6 seconds. The supercharged XKR makes the same dash in 5.1. But anyone who loves life (or hates insurance forms) shouldn't try to carry that speed into a corner. The heavyweight XK8 is a cleverly disguised boulevard cruiser. Ask it to change directions quickly and, well, hippo-type wallowing ensues. It doesn't matter if you try to counter the XK's 'hard-a-starboard' body roll with brakes, acceleration, opposite lock or prayer. Bad things happen. Owners quickly learn to restrict their fun to straight-line blasts or slow motion posing.