Sounds great, doesn't it? A nice, practical, Japanese saloon (complete with three-year warranty) that packs a 339bhp punch and a four-wheel-drive chassis that hangs onto the tarmac like Glen Ross grips Atlas stones. Almighty, all-conquering, all-weather ability comes as standard.

With new forged pistons and conrods, a remapped ECU, high-pressure fuel pump, more efficient intercooler and a free-breathing induction system, the four-cylinder, 16-valve motor is fully primed to cope with the rigours of 1.6 bar of boost pressure. It lifts peak power by 63bhp and peak torque by 68lb ft over the standard Evo VII.

A 25 per cent meatier clutch has been fitted to cope with the increased stresses, which is probably just as well, given the way in which the Extreme begs to be driven. Stiffer and 20mm shorter Eibach springs together with 18in alloys give the Evo an even more aggressive stance, and although it feels more jiggly than the standard VII, it copes with bumps better than its unyielding Evo VI namesake.

Those enlarged rims also make room for an absolutely gargantuan set of front discs - 362mm APs, complete with six-pot callipers (slightly smaller 306mm rotors at the back, gripped by four-pot callipers) offer race-car levels of stopping power. Pity they're optional extras...

The Extreme's most impressive standard-fit item is its performance. With the turbo well and truly lit, it's explosive, hitting 60mph in a little over 4sec, 100mph in just 11sec. In-gear grunt is equally eye-watering, and even when you think it's languishing off-boost it still musters enough forward motion to humble much more exotic machinery.

As with its ancestors, the Evo VII Extreme has great steering feel. This car came on non-standard SO3 Bridgestones rather than the stickier, more feelsome Yokohama AVS tyres it is designed to run on, but it still has tactility Impreza WRX drivers can only dream of. The balance is exciting and adjustable through all but the tightest corners, and the chassis always feels on tip-toe. It can take some holding onto though. The first time you have a play in the middle of a fourth-gear corner is a sideways moment that will live with you and your underwear for a long time. Active Yaw Control and four-wheel drive or not, the Extreme doesn't suffer fools at ten tenths.
So why does the Mitsu fail to worm its way into our affections? Well there's the price tag for starters. At ΂£39,995, the VII Extreme can hardly be described as a performance bargain, but when you start to tot-up the attractive extras fitted to our test car this chunky price tag pales into insignificance. Marvel if you will at the gargantuan AP front brakes, then fall off your chair at the ΂£2962 asking price. Plus VAT, naturally.

Then there's the ΂£789 bazooka exhaust and various cosmetic tweaks, including leather, silver paint and brightwork, that add a further eye-watering ΂£2566. You can no doubt live without the leather, but we just couldn't come to terms with the test car's ΂£47,600 price, no matter how many times we thraped it along our favourite local B-roads.

The Extreme is such a focussed car its saloon origins become almost irrelevant, for you are unlikely to find any family members willing to share the journey with you. In almost every respect its as single-minded as a Caterham, which is its appeal and its undoing. Averaging little more than 17mpg, a full tank lasts 150 miles if you're lucky, which means almost every journey involves a fuel stop for extortionately expensive 48-litre shots of super unleaded. It also needs a service every 4500 miles, which tells you plenty about how hard that willing four-pot has to work to deliver such ballistics.

While there's no arguing with its raw ability, the Evo VII Extreme holds little long term appeal. You get in it to wring its neck. Nothing more, nothing less. Consequently your licence is in peril from the moment you fire up. Where an M3 is a multi-tasking masterpiece, offering refinement, a magnificent sound-track and mile-deep quality, the Evo VII Extreme is an impressively able tin-box with a couple of sticks of TNT stuffed up its tailpipe. The beauty of cars like the Impreza and Evo is their cut-price Beemer-bashing potential. The moment they cost more than the icon they intend to humble, the point is surely lost.