Twin test Imitation game

It’s face-off time in the 4x4 superhatch category as new VW Golf R takes on Merc’s A35

Here’s a theory: the Merc A35 only exists because the old Golf R was a blinder. AMG made its play in 2013, insisting the best posh hot hatch was the most powerful one... ever. The utterly crackers, AWD A45.

Five minutes later VW’s MkVII Golf R arrived – £10k cheaper and 70bhp worse off. And most of us thought, “That’ll do nicely. Love your work AMG, but the Golf’s enough.”

So, during the MkVII Golf R’s life – while the three-door bodystyle and manual gearbox were quietly shelved and the price was steadily creeping from sub-£30k to well over £37,000 – AMG was having a rethink. ‘Shameless copy’ might be more accurate.

For the latest shape of A-Class, we got a new A45 and a new entry-level AMG: this A35. The spec combines a 2.0-litre turbocharged 300bhp engine with a 7spd twin-clutch gearbox and 4WD. Look at their acceleration times, top speed and kerbweight. Copy-and-paste.

VW is as bad. This new Golf R has an annoying multiplex interior, touch-sensitive buttons smeared about the steering wheel and an optional Drift Mode... just like the A45S.

Honestly, sometimes the Germans are so unhealthily obsessed about keeping up with each other it’s surprising they remember to write the correct name on the tailgate.

I set off in the A35, partly because it’s been a year since I last drove one and mostly because it has heated seats. It’s properly freezing today, and VW reckons it’s OK for a £40k top-of-the-shop flagship not to have bum warmers as standard.

While my backside is thawing out, I reacquaint myself with all the A35’s flaws. I don’t like the chintziness of its interior, how most surfaces glare or reflect then creak when prodded, and how Mercedes set up the infotainment to be operated by touchscreen, trackpad and steering wheel buttons, none of which work quite as well as the old clickwheel. The seats look like a dead whale’s tongue and offer as much support as Old Trafford lately.

Noisy too. Tyre roar booms about the cabin in a most unBenzy fashion. And now my bum isn’t numb, the ride seems busy.

Dispel any notion that just because the A35 is the baby AMG cub, it’s any less aggressive than the loony A45. This engine is a crisp, fizzy firecracker. That blip of turbo lag only adds to its character. I’d driven to this German civil war in the Golf, barely aware it was the 316bhp quad-piped R version. It’s so compliant, so careful not to intrude on your day.

Swapped into the AMG, cradling its expensive metal paddles in my fingertips,

I’m astonished how much more exhilarating the A35’s drivetrain is. It gains and sheds revs with less inertia, the engine note is a cackle to the VW’s saintly hum, and while the Golf’s embarrassed about exhaust flatulence, the AMG gargles, rasps and trumpets like it’s being fuelled with 100-octane baked beans.

On first impression, the Golf is a Zoom pub quiz. Fun, but tame. The A35 is the first bar crawl after lockdown. Mayhem. And you’re going to have a sore head tomorrow.

Now, when the A35 squared up the M135i, I gave the AMG the nod because it was that much more of an event. And at first, this contest looked to be going the same way. But then something weird happened.

I’d been tailing Stephen Dobie from the A35, hunting down the Golf and shouting it into the weeds, when he hooked a left onto a slightly narrower lane. The sort of back road that links England’s sweetest chocolate-boxy villages. Within seconds, the Golf was gapping me. I fell back helpless, choking on the VW’s emissions.

The AMG’s getting buffeted and bump-steered and boxed in. I have to ease off to keep all four tyres on the deck while the Golf just cruises into the distance. Stevie completes the humiliation by pulling over to let me catch up. He admits he hasn’t even been trying.

Through each corner, you can sense the Golf’s electronic front diff fighting to claw purchase from the road, and the rear diff feeding torque left and right to keep you on a line. They’re a sensational team.

This’ll sound mad, but when the roads got slippery it reminded me of the Ferrari F8 Tributo’s guardian angel-o-matic toiling away beneath the skin like a Typhoon jet fighter’s systems. It’s using tech for speed and for fun.

Now, the Golf R can be pain in the neck. The touchscreen’s buggy, and waiting 20secs on start-up for the climate menu to load while your breath hangs in mid-air is insane.

One day I’ll find out who thought of the haptic steering wheel buttons, go round to their house and unscrew every light switch. Maybe carve the buttons off their telly remote with a cheese knife. See how they like it.

These common sense errors aside, the Golf’s quicker, quieter, more supple, spacious and mature when you’re doing the school run/ commute/garden centre chores. That’s more fitting of a £40,000 posh-rocket than the brittle Benz. And yet there’s all those layers of handling panache and cleverness lurking there, waiting to be enjoyed. So it edges this contest over an AMG playing the imitation game.