Plus, because the power gulf is a relatively trifling 89bhp and the older car weighs around 400kg less, the Quattro feels nigh-on as quick as its offspring in the real world, if only after the screeching KKK turbocharger has awoken and kicked you violently down the road.
Whether the Quattro is quicker or not on paper (it’s not) is somewhat beside the point. Driving this rally-bred car is, of course, a much more visceral experience, one that places a great deal more demand on your concentration, your hand-eye coordination and your confidence.
It rears up on its haunches under load and nosedives hilariously under braking, its lively rear end is only semi-predictable in fast corners and the three-bar turbocharger takes nearly full control of the steer ing wheel above 4500rpm.
You feel your forearms tensing to keep the bonnet pointed in the right direction through the corners, and each gearshift is a Tetris-like exercise in predictive dexterity – not to mention raw strength.
The TT, of course, is at once more predictable, more malleable and – crucially – less unnerving. It changes direction with pinpoint accuracy, unbreaking in its rigid commitment to your chosen line, and stays flawlessly composed even on greasy, shattered country lanes.
Is it as fun as the Group B refugee? Of course not – it was never going to be.