This one-off isn't to be confused with the limited edition cosmetic replicas (250 of 'em) that Ford is currently using to drum up a bit of 'lifestyle' interest in the four-wheel-drive double-cab Ranger. This one has more power, more torque and new headlights. Its bodywork is somewhat more eye-catching than yer regular run-of-the-building-site Ranger whilst most of the standard interior has been binned. And it has 'those' seats. Strangely, though, the suspension has been left alone while the only brake upgrade is the fitment of Aeroquip hoses.

The World Rally Ranger was the brainchild of Paul Wilson, cheeky-chappy boss of Ford's UK press garage. Most of the time he ensures that the Fiestas, Focuses, Mondeos et al loaned to the press are in peak condition. But occasionally he's allowed to play. Four years ago Wilson mocked up a WRC Escort Cossie, complete with flame-throwing anti-lag, and more recently he helped create the World Rally Transit.

Most of the work on turning the five-seater pick-up into a two-seater head-turner was done by M-Sport, the Cumbrian-based outfit (run by Malcolm Wilson, no relation to Paul) that fettles Mr McRae's company car. As well as making the Ranger look the part, inside and out, M-Sport attended to the standard 2.5-litre turbo-diesel engine, tweaking the management system and improving the breathing by fitting a cone performance air filter and a bespoke exhaust. Power rises from 105bhp to 118bhp and torque climbs to 203lb ft.

Those figures may not sound like much in a vehicle the size of a multi-coloured bungalow (and pretty much the weight of one, too) but don't tune out just yet. The WRR is one of those welcome anomalies where the fun factor is out of all proportion to the on-paper specification.

Even so, when the WRR first turned up on my driveway, I was ready to dismiss it as a stickered-up stooge. Then I noticed the interior. Of course, it's all for show, too, but it's hard to suppress a grin when confronted by FIA-approved carbonfibre competition seats, full harnesses, carbonfibre trim, extinguisher system, rally-style trip computer, dinky Sparco suede-rimmed wheel, and a battery master switch. Shame about the lack of a cage, but then it's difficult enough clambering in and out of those seats without tubing to negotiate as well.

You sit a long way up in this thing, and as you tighten the straps you're struck by just how mad it is; the Martini stripes and stickers seem oh-so familiar after all the coverage of the WRC Focus, but you don't expect to see them at this altitude. Nor do you expect the clatter and rattle as the turbo-diesel coughs into life. There's absolutely no soundproofing in the cabin, so the noise arrives unfiltered and aggressively loud. There's the whistle of the turbocharger, the suck and swoosh of the induction system and the harsh vibrations of an engine tuned for maximum effect and performance rather than ultimate efficiency and refinement. But while the din isn't inspirational, it is in keeping with the nature of the WRR.

Before setting off, discard any notion of beating hot hatches away from the lights. You can see off a Transit - no mean feat in itself - but the WRR is at its best when the revs are hovering between 2800rpm and 4300rpm and the torque's on-stream. Then the chunky truck is a blast, quick to turn foot-flex into lunging forward motion.

Clutching the little motorsport-spec steering wheel, your initial expectation is that you'll be powering through the twisty bits with a flick of the wrist and a prompt response from the front end. But after the shock of almost missing your first bend you learn to anticipate a slight time delay as the steering takes up the slack and the tyres and suspension do likewise. Tight corners reveal the inside-wheel-spinning limitations of rear leaf springs and beam axles, but when the bends open out the WRR can be hustled along at a barely believable pace for a pick-up.

After a couple of days hoofing the WRR around the countryside you scarcely notice its size any more; it doesn't exactly shrink around you, but its bulk ceases to be intimidating, except to those hapless souls who find its white and dayglo decoration filling their mirrors.

The World Rally Ranger has no purpose in life other than to gain Ford a few column inches in the press during a quiet time of the year. Yet it's also a bloody good laugh, which in the world of evo is reason enough to give it the thumbs-up.