The XJR isn't the sort of car you throw around on the road ΂- most unseemly ΂- and so I wasn't sure what to expect of it on track. In preparation, I topped up the oil and spent 15 minutes raising the tyre pressures to the handbook recommendation for sustained 100mph-plus motoring. It takes a quarter of an hour because the sexy BBS alloys don't have protruding valves; one of the 'split-rim' fixings hides the valve and you have to screw in an extension before you can get the airline on. Unless the rims are spotless you can guarantee to end up with grubby fingers but I was glad I'd bothered because all four tyres were at a lowly 24psi. I filled up the tank with superplus, too, and reset the trip computer to see how low the mpg would go.

The Jag looked rather incongruous in the pit lane amongst the Caterhams and Elises, like an ocean liner surrounded by a flotilla of tender craft. Drifting out onto the track with the air conditioning wafting a cool breeze through the luxurious cabin, I felt a bit daft wearing a helmet and racing gloves but after half a lap I realised that it was going to be a very enjoyable evening. I expected the XJR to have the legs down the straights but its neat, solid composure through the bends was amazing.

For a big, weighty car it turned in with remarkable precision and enthusiasm and then powered through them briskly with minimal roll. Third gear was good for almost the whole track, just a drop to second to use a bit of engine braking to help the brakes slow it from 120mph into the chicane.

I wasn't the only one surprised by its pace. The Elises weren't any quicker, the 3-litre BMW Z3 was easy meat and I kept Tim Milne's Evo VI behind for a lap. He was quicker through a couple of the turns, the long, long Redgate in particular, but the Jag didn't seem to be holding him up too much elsewhere, or maybe he was just amused by the XJR's tweaked-up stance and the occasional fog of wheelspin.

It was pretty clear half-way through the evening that, despite its speed, the XJR wasn't hurting its tyres or brakes. Sure, a bit of rubber had worn off the outer edge of the left front Pirelli and there was a tell-tale seam of smeared rubber on each band of tread, but the P-Zeros didn't look ragged by any stretch. They were no worse after three hours, while the Brembos actually felt better than they ever have on the way home. Remarkable. Thank you, Easytrack. I'll definitely be giving the Jag another outing.

Oh, and the trip computer? Well, 77 miles from a tankful is rather thirsty ΂- to save you the maths, that's a wallet-wilting 5.3mpg...