The problem for the entry-level model is that the F-Type is a pointy car. You will not encounter understeer, the front just grips and grips and then, for good measure, grips some more. It’s very precise and backed up by wonderfully accurate (if light on actual feel) steering that requires no more than a nudge of lock to commit to most corners. The question is whether the loading you’ve put through the front axle will be tolerated by the rear as well. If not, if you’re going hard or the road is very uneven, the V6 can load up its outside rear tyre and heave and pitch. It’s never enough to be concerning, and it’s chiefly noticeable because the structure itself is so stiff, but if one F-Type could be said to lack focus, this is the one. It hasn’t quite made the full leap from GT to sports car.

The other two have. They wear peculiar green and pink fluoro S badges and feel that bit tighter of focus, more exploitable and even better balanced. Here, among other things, you get to play with a switch to alter the exhaust note. At this point, a public service notice is required. Leave it unpressed. The F-Type’s plenty raucous enough already. Of course you won’t; you’ll do what we did and engage maximum volume. But be warned that your neighbours will demand you be served with an Asbo, and there are probably track days you’ll be turned away from. The V6S in particular is like a rally car with anti-lag. The V8S on the overrun is distant artillery; the V6S is the crackle of small-arms fire in the next room. Do yourself a favour, and reduce the loudness when you overtake someone. It wouldn’t do to cause an elderly Suzuki driver to have a heart attack.