We Took The 550bhp Jaguar XFR-S Supercar Spotting In London And Held Our Own Among The Exotics

When someone mentions Jaguar, the younger petrolheads among us will likely think of expensive, classy saloons built for rich old folk to waft around in luxurious comfort. But those older folk will no doubt remember a time when Jag made ballistic sports cars like the E-Type, and brutal supercars like the XJ220.

The intervening years have seen a smattering of fast Jags, but they’ve all been the kind of car that only those approaching retirement could appreciate. Then recently, Jag went a little bit insane, and we love them for it.

In the current lineup there’s the gorgeous F-Type that’s unashamedly loud and boisterous to drive, while the XKR-S and XFR-S take their standard variants’ clothes and tear through them in a Hulk-like transformation.

It is the latter I’m walking towards right now, keys in hand, and boy is it intimidating. The standard XF is a huge car, but this R-S model bullies your eyesight to be centre of attention. The gorgeous Ultra Blue suits the car perfectly by being in-your-face and accentuating the bulging body panels and gaping grille. The 20-inch Varuna alloys fill the arches, and the massive carbonfibre rear spoiler stands proud on the rear bootlid.

Open the large driver’s door and slide into the cosseting seat, and the first thing you’ll notice is classic Jag comfort; it feels like your favourite leather armchair. Everything you touch is coated in wonderful soft leather and just feels expensive, though at £79,995 ($132k), so it should. Subtle blue stitching borders each surface and is perfectly judged - colour coded stitching can often feel tacky, but it doesn’t here.

Push down the starter button and the engine barks into life with an angry blip of revs. Under that long, prominent bonnet sits a 5.0-litre supercharged V8. It makes a whopping 543bhp and 502lb ft of torque, which puts it up into the higher echelons of performance cars. Perspective? That’s the same output as a Nissan GT-R.

As we cruise towards London, the sun begins to set and the heavens open. All that power going through the rear wheels, in a huge car worth the best part of £80k, and the roads are akin to a river. It’s fair to say my backside’s squeaking, but with photographer Jayson beside me I man up and fight on through the Friday night traffic.

You might be questioning my sanity by taking the keys to a car with such power and strangling it in Central London traffic, but there is method to my madness. During August, London becomes the centre of the supercar universe. Exotic motors, mostly shipped in from the Middle East, descend on the suburb of Knightsbridge and cruise the streets around Harrods.

Supercar spotters make the pilgrimage to Sloane Street, mobile phones and digital cameras in hands, to record the cacophony created by the wide variety of finely tuned engines and exhausts. The XFR-S certainly has the headline figures, but can what is essentially just a big saloon with a lairy bodykit and a massive V8 really hold its own with the best the supercar world has to offer?

As we drive past Harrods, expensive motors are everywhere. We make our first pass into Sloane Street and within 100 yards we spot an Aston Martin DB9 and Lamborghini Aventador. I pull in for Jayson to grab a few snaps, and call a friend who has offered to help with the shoot. I put the phone down and a young guy approaches my open window and has a quick chat about the car, before saying “I think they want you to give it some throttle!” I look in the mirror to see that in the minute or so I’ve been on the phone, a dozen people have crowded around the back of the car, cameras in hand.

If the question is whether the XFR-S can fit in with such illustrious company, it appears the answer is a resounding ‘yes.’ In neutral, I plant my foot and give them what they want, my toes becoming the conductor of a deep and loud V8 orchestra. Frustratingly limited to 4k revs when the XFR-S is at a standstill, the noise is still epic, but it’s the over-run that gets me giggling every time. Lift your foot off the throttle and the exhaust snaps, crackles and pops.

Jayson tells me it’s time to get a few passing shots, so I pull away and drive up and down the street until he gets what he needs. It’s impossible to get any sort of meaningful acceleration here in the wet, the wheels just spinning uselessly before traction control cuts in to halt your progress. Jumping back in the car, Jayson tells me that every time I came back the supercar spotters would scramble to get in position. I think the big cat has made an impact.

Unfortunately, not everyone is so pleased to see these supercars arrive. Knightsbridge may be famous for its expensive shops and world-class restaurants, but people live on these streets, too. As much as we all love to hear a supercar scream, being a resident here during this time must be tough - just ask the guy who threw an apple at an Aventador last week.

Inevitably, therefore, the police are never far away. We parked up and braved the wet weather to chat to one cop who has been tasked with clamping down on this Middle Eastern supercar invasion. Not only does he tick off people who are unnecessarily noisy, his job is to seize foreign cars that do not have insurance or the necessary paperwork to be on the road in England.

During August, that means hanging around Harrods checking the details of the numerous supercars that pass him. British cops have the power to seize uninsured vehicles on the spot and potentially send them to the crusher, something which also applies to foreign cars. He hasn’t made himself popular with these rich kids, but if they have a crash a lot of expense could fall on the unfortunate person they hit.

As the clock passes midnight we head back to the Jag. As an aside, Jayson had made me parallel park - in front of a bunch of supercar spotters, nervewrackingly - between an Aston and Aventador for a photo. Impressively, next to such otherworldy exotica was the only time all weekend the R-S was outshone. The Lambo is just jaw-dropping and looks like it’s from another planet.

Leaving the bright lights and torrential downpours of London behind, we find ourselves on some wide open, empty roads where the XFR-S can really flex its muscles. This is the first time all night we’ve had the chance to see what it can do, and my word, this thing packs a punch.

0-62mph can be dispatched in 4.6 seconds, but it’s the way it keeps charging through the gears that gets me. You can plant your foot in any gear and it pushes you back in your seat, the noise becoming all-consuming. There are beefy nostrils cut into the bonnet, allowing the engine to breathe and snort away like an angry animal as you keep your foot in; flick the right paddle towards you to slam home another gear with only the slightest hint of a break in power.

As we drop onto the quiet B-roads that twist across the British countryside, the Jag’s heft becomes immediately apparent. This is not an agile car, but you’d have to be going ridiculous speeds to unnerve the front end. Getting the most from this car safely on the road requires a steady ‘slow in, fast out’ attitude. Get round the corner then get the car straight and just plant your foot - you don’t really need to worry about lost momentum here.

I’ll admit, I never turned the traction control off. Yes, I bottled it, but I had good reason. I discovered that you could trick the aids into allowing slip by travelling at part throttle then quickly snap a little extra right foot. This was especially fun when slowly approaching a junction - give it a quick dab as you exit and the back will get loose enough to be a giggle before the traction systems kick in and stop you looking like a wally.

Over the course of my weekend with the car I fell in love with it. I’m an unashamed JDM fanboy, and prefer my cars small, light and nimble, but this big Jaguar got me under its spell. It has supercar grunt and looks unashamedly obnoxious, particularly in that blue. And the noise is just infectious!

But the biggest praise I can give it is that this is the first expensive car I’ve driven where I’ve genuinely thought it was worth the cash. I took my family out in it, and it was a comfortable quiet cruiser with a boot that could swallow six weeks-worth of shopping. In a more subtle colour and without the optional Subaru-esque spoiler it could even pass under the radar out on the road. Then, when the mood takes you, it can transform into a brute with enough power to change the direction of the Earth’s rotation.

It truly is all the car you’d ever need.