That price, at least in this particular case, is £116,284. Now, here in the real world this seems like a lot of money, but for Twisted's higher-end customers, cash is perhaps a little more abundant. Also, Twisted hasn't just fitted the Defender with a V8 and then stuck a brew on.
Firstly, the 's' bit of the T40s designation means there's Twisted Progressive suspension fitted, including new anti-roll bars, springs and dampers, all tuned with performance in mind. Then there are the six-pot Alcon brakes with 365mm discs on the front wheels and four-pot versions with 300mm discs on the rears. The alloys are deep-dished and 18in, the tyres knobbly 285/60 jobs.
The list goes on, covering four sheets of A4, but some of the highlights include the Recaro CS seats, mounted on Twisted's own raised subframes covered in bespoke leather, along with lots and lots of Alcantara and a 350mm Momo Millenium fixed steering wheel.
All of which adds up to not only a hell of a lot of money, but also probably the most convincing modded Defender we've ever laid hands on. You realise that the moment you turn the key. Unlike the Zulu, the T40s's LS3 only needs a second to fire with a bark and kick of torque roll, but almost immediately it settles to a steady but guttural idle.
Do little more than glance at the throttle pedal, though, and the results are dramatic. Throttle response is savage, the rev counter firing around the dial in an instant in neutral and causing the 90 to flex on its springs; behind, all manner of foliage and wildlife is blown into the bushes at the business end of Twisted's stainless steel exhaust.
The T40s has no traditional gearlever, instead a sort of backlit touch pad with which to select gears. Pressing 'D' causes a mechanical clunk beneath you and instantly the LS3 and handbrake do battle. Easing off the handbrake brings about a surprisingly swift and rolling idle. It's an indication of this engine's intent and also a nightmare in tight parking situations.
Initial hook up is a little jerky into first gear and the gearbox isn't afraid to hang on to its ratios. There's no Sport mode but, with the V8 howling on a scale of bear to banshee as the revs rise, you won't particularly care. This is a car for the unashamedly extroverted, up there with supercars for its head-turning potential.
Rolling across broken town roads it becomes apparent that the T40s rides decently well for a Defender (and particularly a 90). There's still the odd crash and jump over the worst potholes, but much of the secondary fidget and jostle has been tamed by decent damping. The brakes are a little wooly at the top of the pedal, but that's quickly replaced by a consistent meat soon after at all speeds.
Talking of speed, mashing the throttle sends the T40s squatting back on its rear axle before spinning all four of its wheels in the dry. It doesn't take long before the chunky tyres and T40s's 1900kg bulk win traction and there you sit, sweaty-palmed, in a black, boxy wall of sound marvelling at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.