In its latest glossy press information pack, Volkswagen says the original Scirocco Storm was sold with a 1.8 litre engine. This is a mistake. It is referring to the 1781cc unit that was, in fact, not introduced until October 1982, by which time it was making the Mk 2 Scirocco. The Storm, like all fuel-injected Mk 1s, was sold with a 1588cc engine. I’m surprised the people at VW didn’t know this.

I, on the other hand, know everything about those early cars. I even know what sort of fuel injection system they used and how big the tyres were. Bosch K-Jetronic and 175/70/13s, in case you’re interested. Furthermore, I know the leather-lined Storm was available in only noisette brown or silver green.

The Scirocco, for me, is very important. I was interested in cars long before VW thought about making a coupé version of the Golf. But it was the result of its efforts that caused me to want to write about them.

Here’s why. Back in 1980, I lived up north, in the flatlands around Doncaster, and most of my friends were in the Young Farmers, which was not so much a club as a way of wife. You had dirty fingernails, stout shoes, a dislike of the south in general and London in particular and either a Ford Escort RS2000 or a Dolly Sprint. One chap had a TR7 and we all thought he might be a mental.

I didn’t really fit either, because while they all understood the art of ploughing and drilling, I thought fields were something for crashing into. And I wanted a Golf GTI. “It’s what they’re all driving in London these days,” I said one night in the Carpenters Arms. This was a mistake. A deathly hush fell over the bar. Heads turned. A dart slammed into a wall. Admitting that I might in some way be interested in the buying habits of people in Fulham was the same as admitting that I was interested in the sexual orientation of Larry Grayson.

The silence was broken after several agonising moments by one chap who was wearing especially stout shoes. “Are you a poof?” he said menacingly. Which is the catch-all northern prelude to someone having their head kicked off.

The lure of the GTI, however, was strong. So I agonised over what colour I’d like and precisely what sort of modifications I could afford if I took it to the GTI tuning centre at Silverstone. And then my eye was caught by the Scirocco. Underneath, it was the same as the Golf, but it had just the most agonisingly pretty body. So should I have this instead?

Unable to talk to anyone about this, in case they thought I was a southerner, I turned to the various motoring magazines, all of which were completely useless. They told me how big the boot was and the benefits of fuel injection and the precise dimensions of the rear seat, but I didn’t care about any of this. All I wanted to know is whether, if I bought a Scirocco, it’d cause me to have more sex than if I bought a Golf.

I decided pretty much there and then that, one day, I’d write about cars in a whole new way . . . but in the meantime I moved to London and bought the Scirocco — a GLI with a tan interior — and in a year I clocked up 54,000 miles in that car. I loved it. I can even remember the numberplate — PUA 516W — and I can definitely remember how heavy the steering became when I fitted 205/60 tyres.

Eventually I replaced my beloved Mk 1 with Mk 2. This was a terrible car, partly because I fitted a white steering wheel to match the white paintwork, and partly because the damn thing was a fully paid-up member of Exit. Over a period of six painstaking months, it used its own clutch cable to saw itself very nearly in half.

However, in the same way that we cannot remember rainy days from our childhood, or pain meted out by dentists, I tend to forget the dismal Mk 2 when I think of the Scirocco and remember with a dreamy fondness all the good times I had with (and in) that wonderful Mk 1.

And that’s why, as much as anyone else alive, I was so pleased to hear that VW was going to revive the name and bring the old girl back.

To drive, the new model feels pretty close to the Golf GTI, on which it’s based. Which means it feels pretty close to perfect. The only weirdness is that it takes 7.2sec to get from 0 to 60, which is just half a second less than my old Mk 1 took 28 years ago.

More important than the speed, though, is the way it looks, and I’m not sure. The original Scirocco was designed by Giugiaro, who is a modern-day Leonardo da Vinci. This new one was done in house, and from some angles it’s what Michael Winner would call historic. But from others it’s a bit wet. And you should definitely be aware that in white it looks like a Stormtrooper’s helmet.

In the past, this would have been a big problem because the only reason for buying a Scirocco, rather than a much cheaper Golf, was the extra style. Now, though, things are a bit different because, incredibly, the coupé is only £90 more than the hatch.

And you’ll soon offset that because even though the two cars have a 2 litre direct-injection turbocharged engine, the Scirocco produces less carbon dioxide than the Golf. And is therefore in a lower tax band.

For even bigger savings, you could wait until VW introduces new versions of the car. One will have a 1.4 litre unit, which comes with a supercharger and a turbo, and the other — God help us — will be a diesel. Frankly, though, these cheapo models will be a bit like the fake Prada handbag my daughter bought on a recent day trip to Thailand. It looks like the real thing, but because it isn’t, it’s actually a bit crap.

Eventually, I am sure, there’ll be a 3.2 litre, four-wheel-drive version — they could call it the Storm — but for now, the TSI is the model to go for, and you should spend an extra £1,300 on the DSG system. It’s the only flappy-paddle gearbox that actually works in the real world.

Frankly, there aren’t that many other boxes to tick. You get, as standard, multi-adjustable suspension that allows you to make the ride uncomfortable, you get climate control, you get a million bouncy castles that boing out of the dash if you hit a tree and you get a brilliant central command system that can be hooked up to your iPod. The only option I’d bother with is the smoker package. It’s only £15, and choosing it would irritate the sanctimonious bastard who decided not to fit ashtrays as standard. If they offered a chlamydia pack, they couldn’t sound more holier-than-thou.

Drawbacks? Well, the Scirocco is 97mm lower than the Golf, a point that becomes blindingly obvious every time you try to get inside. You really do have to pull your head into your ribcage if you don’t want to bang it on the roof. To get in the back, it’s best to cut yourself in half.

And that’s it, really. I suppose I could mention the boot sill, which is a bit high, but then I’d sound like those old motoring hacks who drove me into this business all those years ago.

To make me sound nothing like those guys: the new car is like an old girlfriend you meet after hooking up on Friends Reunited. To everyone else she’s just an ordinary middle-aged woman, but to you she’s a bit more than that . . .

That’s the new Scirocco. To most people it’s just another car. But for those of us who had the old one, it arrives on the scene, after a 15-year period of nothing but grey skies and drizzle, like the warm, fast wind from which it takes its name.

The Clarksometer

ENGINE 1984cc, four cylinders
POWER 200bhp @ 5100rpm
TORQUE 207lb ft @ 1700rpm
TRANSMISSION Six-speed DSG
FUEL/CO2 37.2mpg / 179g/km
ACCELERATION 0-62mph: 7.1sec
TOP SPEED 145mph
PRICE £22,270
ROAD TAX BAND E (£170 a year)
RELEASE DATE On the road now

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