Audi's iconic coupe has been a favourite with motoring pundits and fashion savvy hairdressers since its launch in 1999 and has been one of Audi's most successful sports cars since the original Quattro of the 1980s.

The incumbent TT Coupe - which is being replaced this year by a newer, sleeker version that just happens to have a nose remarkably similar to that of the latest Ford Focus - shares its underbelly with a Mark IV Volkswagen Golf, which just happens to share familiar components with similarly sized cars in the Seat and Skoda range too. The Golf has always carried a good reputation for its handling prowess and, coupled with Audi's clever four-wheel-drive system, the recipe looks good for a plateful of gourmet automotive entertainment.

The TT immediately impresses with its pedigree and eminence. It sits proud on its haunches and its flowing lines give you the feeling that it's waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting BMW driver not checking his mirrors on the M1. Everything about the TT screams "success", and Audi wouldn't disagree with that statement. So successful has the TT been that it's barely had a facelift since inception and, unlike many of its competitors, it has taken eight years for Audi to bite the bullet and have a go at updating it.

The model I've had, however, is this one - the Audi TT 1.8 T 225bhp version, arguably the most chosen model across the range. The 1.8 litre turbo engine spins out a whopping 225 brake horse power, dashes from a standstill to sixty miles per hour in just 6.4 seconds and would keep going up to a jail-sentence-acquiring 151mph if you were to find a road long enough, straight enough and clear enough to have a go at it. It's only four miles per hour slower at the top end than the bigger 3.2 litre version, is just 0.2 seconds (a figure only Formula 1 drivers really worry about) slower to sixty than the bigger engine model, yet it's slightly more economical and is a group lower to insure. Not to mention it's cheaper, when buying new, too.

Whilst hairdressers and footballer's wives rave about its ergonomic looks, I think it looks like a car that can't tell its arse from its forehead. If you swapped the headlights and brake lights over it would look the same either way. The backside looks fatter than my wife's and the front looks as if its been injected with more Botox than Ann Robinson. There's something Beetle-esque about its appearance and that worries me, because it means the designers were thinking about a Porsche 911 when they were trying to come up with something different.

The interior is laid out functionally, as is typical of most German vehicles. It's not stunning to behold, but it works and it all feels good. The stereo is probably the weakest part of the car's interior: the controls are awkward to use and it's not the greatest sounding unit I've ever had the aural pleasure of. Despite that, it's still a little drab and grey and there's not an awful lot of space. There are a couple of bucket seats in the back but they're more useful as an extension of the mediocre boot space than they are for putting people in. Certainly, adults will struggle to find a comfortable position in the back and even children over the age of seven will whinge if you decide to put your driver's seat in to the position most suitable for you.

There are two variants of the 1.8 turbo engine - the 180bhp version and the 225bhp. Visually, there are almost no obvious differences inside or out, except that the baby version only has one exhaust pipe at the rear whereas the model I've been driving has two. Under normal driving circumstances, the car moves smoothly, the steering flows well through the thick wheel and the engine burbles and revs heartily when you ask it to. The gearbox is a pleasure to use, the clutch is neither too heavy nor too light, and the pedals are just about spaced out well enough that even if you wear clogs you won't inadvertently catch the brake instead of the throttle. The steering is well-balanced and responds well, if a tad vaguely, to just about any twist or turn you give it. You certainly won't be embarrassed by this car's straight-line performance and, even if I don't like the look of it, the TT sits just as neatly on Cambridge's Regent Street as it does in the centre of Monte Carlo.

The Quattro system primarily gives most of the traction to the front wheels, with a lesser split to the rear to aid grip, but pull away from a roundabout too quickly in the damp and the front wheels will light up quicker than a reformed smoker who's taken up the habit once again. The rear wheels will sort of spin to try and help but a massive amount of under-steer will have you heading towards the kerb frighteningly quickly.

I desperately wanted to like this car. The motoring press rave about it, the in-crowd think they're sexy, young boys admire them and posh girls are easier to pull if you own one. It's relatively fast yet economical to run (with an average fuel consumption of 30mpg) despite the fact that it's CO2 emissions (226g/km) put it into the higher tax bracket. Young drivers will be dismayed to find that the group 18 insurance bracket will mean its impossible to insure without a mortgage, but the rich ones will still buy them anyway. The reality is, however, that I hated it. I can't abide its porpoise-appearance, its letterbox visibility, its drab interior or its useless back seats. The boot is too small to be functional and when nature thinks about giving us a drop of rain the TT becomes less responsive than Noah's Ark, and when the climate conditions are perfect for the TT the stereo is so fiddly you'll probably crash the car while trying to tune in Radio 4.