You’ve heard the stories: Jaguar’s in such a bad state it can’t even sell itself. Over the past few weeks it has been portrayed as a multi-billion-dollar albatross around the neck of Ford, lacking in leadership and ideas, not to mention product tuned to the 21st-century public.

Well here’s another Jaguar story, and for once the news is good. You’ll be reading a lot about this new XKR over the next few weeks so you’d better get used to “best Jag since the E-type” headlines. This doesn’t interest me at all. What does excite me is that within 10 miles at the wheel I suspected this Jaguar was not simply more charming than its rivals from BMW and Mercedes, it was plain better, too. Now, several hundred miles down the road, I’ m convinced. And that is a story worth telling.

With 420bhp from its supercharged V8 motor it is not only 20bhp more powerful than the old XKR, it is also 80kg lighter (100kg if you order the convertible). That’s enough to knock its 0-60mph time below the 5sec mark, where performance moves from fearsome to feral. When I drove the standard 300bhp XK at the beginning of the year it didn’t feel underpowered, but the XKR adds 120bhp to its output. Just as importantly, the XKR has been seriously stiffened to cope with the extra performance.

It turned out to be one of those cars I had the deepest difficulty getting out of. I only had it for three days but still put an impolite number of miles on its clock. Trip to London? That’ll be the Jaguar. Long day in the office and need to clear the head on some mountain roads? XKR keys, please. Got to take the recycling to the tip? What’s wrong with two journeys?

Actually, even I couldn’t quite make sense of taking the XKR to the rubbish dump twice, but in every other environment it provided a near perfect blend of point-to-point efficiency and character, perhaps the two most important traits for any true GT. Most of the time its supercharger is effectively bypassed so the car behaves much as would an XK, but when you demand an instant slug of power, where the XK feels swift and sharp the XKR is little short of savage.

Nor has its long-distance demeanour been spoilt by its stiffer springs and reprogrammed electronic dampers. The ride is firmer than that of the XK, but a hard ride need not mean a harsh ride: if your suspension people know their stuff it can actually improve comfort by giving better control of vertical and lateral movements. This is still a car you could drive all night and emerge from more interested in breakfast than bed.

The XKR shows that whatever the trouble at the top, Jaguar still has enough engineering talent to make up in clear thinking and inspired design what the company lacks in cash. And at least the bits that aren’t so good — the tacked-on rear spoiler, naff “R” logos, telescopic aerial and the quality of some interior fittings — are all cosmetic.

Early indications are that Jaguar is going to struggle to build enough XKRs to meet demand, a sign the brand has not yet been damaged beyond repair. And it has been announced that the XKR will race at international level next year, which should bring tears to the eyes of everyone who can remember Jaguar’s C-type, D-type, XJR9, not to mention the XJ13 on page 4-5. A return to Le Mans is not out of the question.

But we should not get too far ahead of ourselves. Jaguar will make money from its XKs but nothing like enough to staunch the haemorrhage of cash leaking from its less successful models. The future depends on 2008’s successor to the lovely but unloved S-type and a desperately needed radical facelift of the staid-looking XJ saloon. At last week’s Paris Motor Show Jaguar executives were chatting excitedly about these cars and even, in the future, an ultra-sporting Porsche Boxster and Cayman rival — the oft-mooted F-type.

If these cars can be delivered and the X-type ditched, and if they build on the standards seen in the XK and XKR, there’s not only a future out there for Jaguar, it could be a bright one, too.

THE OPPOSITION

Model BMW 650i Sport £54,870
For Affordable by these standards, room in back, handling
Against Odd looks, characterless to drive, and it's got iDrive

Model Mercedes SZL 500 £75,925
For Coupé and a convertible in one, strong engine, looks
Against Two swats only, ageing interior, limited boot space

Click here for more on Porsche

There is a vital piece of equipment missing from this £79,540 Porsche 911 GT3, and without it I’m not sure the car is safe to use on the public highway.

It’s a hand that pops out of the steering wheel the moment you start driving like an idiot, and slaps you sharply across the face. It wouldn’t cost any more than traction control to engineer and, believe me, it would be a far more effective safety feature.

I’m trying to put my finger on exactly what it is about the GT3 that makes little red horns break through your scalp every time your backside hits its rock-hard bucket seat, but driving it slowly just doesn’t seem to be possible.

It’s not just its raw power; every Ferrari made today is substantially more powerful than this, yet I don’t feel the smallest desire to drive them fast in less than ideal conditions. But I couldn’t resist the temptation the GT3 put my way, despite weather that made the roads more suitable for a powerboat than a fast car.

I think I may have the answer. What makes the GT3 unique among Porsches and extremely rare among all cars is its ability to double your pulse rate. You might believe the same could be said of all cars bearing the shield of Stuttgart, but sadly this isn’t so.

You only have to look at the way most Porsches are driven to know that driving has nothing to do with it: they are bought because their owners believe a Porsche will make their friends and colleagues think more highly of them.

But these people would never buy a GT3 anyway, not when they could have a 911 Targa 4S with a nice big sunroof and comfortably safe four-wheel drive for similar money. They would hate the GT3 for its stiff ride and thin seats, its bloodhound propensity for following road cambers, and its truly challenging wet-weather handling. And if they ever had it demonstrated to them what it could really do on the right road (or, preferably, track), they’d probably wet the road themselves.

This is because the GT3 is a thinly disguised racing car. Its origins are so rooted in the track that Porsche will supply your GT3 ready to race with a roll cage, a six-point race harness, a battery master switch and a fire extinguisher for no cost other than the deletion of two thorax bags and the door bins. Then, at least in theory, there would be nothing to stop you slapping some numbers on the side and entering it in any race for which it was eligible.

What’s particularly interesting is that while most racing cars are horrid to drive on the road, this one’s reasonably well behaved, at least until you push it harder than it cares to go. I drove it in heavy rain on part-flooded roads, and despite it wearing Michelins that appeared to have more in common with the slicks on Fernando Alonso’s Formula One car than anything you’d connect with road use, it was easy to contain — until I turned off the traction control.

Then, the entertainment on offer was of the decidedly adult variety. It’s not that it will throw you off the road with no warning, but if the tail does start to slide wide on a sodden surface, you’d better be ready. If you’re not quick and accurate with your correction, you will be riding home in a recovery truck with a somewhat dented ego.

I elected not to push my luck: this is the only functioning GT3 that Porsche has at its disposal, and the idea of ringing up the chap who’d booked it next and telling a Mr J Clarkson that he can collect the car from a hedge somewhere outside Swindon just didn’t appeal to me.

Besides, the GT3 is just as enjoyable to drive in a straight line as it is through the bends.

Because it is extremely light — absurdly, it weighs a smidgeon under 40kg more than a Peugeot 207 GT hot hatch — and because the 3.6 litre 415bhp engine sits right over the back wheels, it explodes away from rest, even in the wettest conditions. Despite a slow and frankly disappointing gearchange, it still needs a mere 4.3sec to hit 62mph, and the same amount of time again to take you to the very threshold of 100mph. If you’re interested, it will carry you on to a stirring 193mph.

More impressive still is the quality of its performance. The engine is the greatest one used in any Porsche today, including that in the more powerful, but softer, road-oriented Turbo. It’s engaging and responsive below 4000rpm, whereupon the exhaust note appears to drop an octave and double in volume — which is all the warning you get before you’re slammed violently into the backrest of your seat.

With shorter, closer gearing its acceleration would be even more visceral, but even with the ratios as they are, the first time you change gear at 8400rpm the memory of it will live with you for ever.

It is just as well that the GT3 is such an uncompromising sports car, because it would make a useless tourer. Not only have the rear seats been removed to save weight, but it has a 90-litre fuel tank instead of the usual 64-litre item — just in case you want to do some serious long-distance racing in it. This means its boot is little more than half the size of a Fiat Panda’s.

And those of you thinking that £79,540 doesn’t sound like so much to pay for a landmark Porsche, remember that the base-model GT3 is pared to the bone. If it were my GT3 I’d also want carbon-ceramic brake discs (£5,800), carbon-fibre seats (£3,130) and navigation (£1,921), which would bring the total to a painful £90,391. And that’s being restrained.

But I reckon it would be worth it. In this world, where reality is less valued than perception, it’s a rare treat to find a truly honest car. If it looks like a hard-driving, sharp-focus, no-prisoners kind of car, that’s because it is precisely that.

Put it this way: there isn’t another Porsche on sale that I’ve driven and would rather have. But then again, I am only partly unhinged. For those who are complete strangers to common sense, there’s always the even more extreme GT3 RS. This model is lighter to the tune of 20kg, quicker to 62mph by 0.1sec, and some £14,740 more expensive.

Sitting here, it’s hard to see the point of it, but then I’ve not yet driven the car. I’ll let you know next year.

VITAL STATISTICS

Model Porsche 911 GT3

Engine type 3600cc, six cylinders

Power/Torque 415bhp @ 7600rpm / 298 lb ft @ 5500rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual

Fuel/CO2 22.1mpg (combined cycle) / 307g/km

Performance 0-62mph: 4.3sec / Top speed: 193mph

Price £79,540

Verdict Reminds you what it’s like to be alive

Rating Five stars

Date of release Out now

THE OPPOSITION

Model BMW M6 coupé £81,760

For Magnificent V10 engine, spacious in back and boot

Against Relatively expensive, ugly, handling only reasonable

Model Ferrari F430 coupé £122,775

For Superb performance, handles well, image

Against Looks odd from some angles, messy interior

Would you be so silly as to buy a car without driving it? If you looked at the specification of the new Mazda3 MPS, you just might. On paper it doesn’t matter whether you compare it with the VW Golf GTI, Vauxhall Astra VXR, Ford Focus ST-2 or Mégane RenaultSport 225; it beats them all for power, acceleration and speed. Unlike the Ford and VW it doesn’t cost extra for five doors and, at £18,995, it is the cheapest, too. Case closed, then.

Er, not quite. Rarely can such raw data give more than a guide to a car’s abilities — indeed they often serve to obscure more important qualities such as ride, handling and enjoyment. Such is the case here.

Admittedly this is the fastest of the Golf-class fast hatches. Powered by a turbocharged 2.3 litre four-cylinder motor it attempts to direct 256bhp to the road through the front wheels.

Now I’m going to mention torque, and before your eyes glaze over and you remind me this is not Autocar, it is important. When you accelerate it is torque, not power, that you feel. And the problem with torque when it’s directed through the front wheels is that it tends to have undesirable effects on the steering.

Most manufacturers shy away from creating front-drive cars with much more than 200 lb ft of torque. Take the VW Golf: in GTI form it has 207 lb ft of torque and front-wheel drive, but when you upgrade to the R32 model with 236 lb ft of torque, VW uprates the car to four-wheel drive, so the maximum torque each wheel needs to handle is in effect halved. The Mazda3 MPS has 280 lb ft of torque, every last bit of which has to go through the front wheels.

It’s too much. For while this is a stunningly fast car (it’s 0-62mph time of 6.1sec may sound quick but it would be at least 0.5sec quicker if it were rear or four-wheel drive), it is not a particularly fun car. And this is why: the only reason for buying a car like this is to make the most of its performance, but it won’t let you.

Put your foot down and as the acceleration builds so does the side-to-side tugging at the steering. If you persevere and if the road is at all damp (as it was during my week with the car), the front wheels will soon lose traction in first, second and occasionally even third gear, despite the fitment of a limited slip differential designed to stop precisely that. Press on further and the traction control will simply cut the power. And this is when you’re travelling in a straight line.

In an attempt to try to string a few wet corners together I turned the traction control off, but this made things worse. If you push it hard, as its styling and engine power invite, it requires more effort than a modern family hatch should to keep it pointing in the desired direction.

The shame is that I can see how tantalisingly close to being a decent car the Mazda3 comes. It looks good, steers nicely until you put your foot down and even offers reasonable accommodation.

It’s well equipped, with standard climate control, cruise control, part leather sports seats and electric everything. There’s a slick six-speed gearbox and excellent brakes. Even the engine can hardly be blamed: it sounds purposeful and has minimal turbo lag for such a high output.

No, the only thing that went wrong was when the engineers decided it was okay to up the power and leave everything else the same. It wasn’t, and the result undermines the car.

If Mazda had kept the engine as it is, provided all-wheel drive and put two grand on the price, or if it left the car alone but dropped power and torque by 20% and lopped two grand off the price, either result would have been better.

What is most puzzling is not simply how the same people who make driver’s cars as good as the MX-5 and RX-8 could get this so wrong, but the fact that this engine can also be found in the Mazda6 MPS, a fine and underrated machine.

Why does it succeed where the Mazda3 fails? Three little words: four-wheel drive. If it had it, I suspect the Mazda3 MPS would be a winner; without it, it is at best a flawed also-ran.

Vital statistics

Model Mazda3 MPS
Engine type 2261cc, four cylinders
Power/Torque 256bhp @ 5500rpm / 280 lb ft @ 3000rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 29.1mpg (combined) / 231g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 6.1sec / Top speed: 155mph
Price £18,995
Verdict Nice idea, shame about the execution
Rating Two stars (out of five)
Date of release February

The opposition

Model Ford Focus ST-2 £19,095
For Lovely engine, terrific handling, value for money
Against Downmarket appearance, rather thirsty

Model VW Golf GTI £20,860
For Good to drive, great to own, good residual value
Against Limited performance, expensive by class standard

It’s a brave carmaker that chooses the road to Beachy Head as the launch point for its new model. In the small print of that elusive tome, How to be an Instant Motoring Marketing Mogul and Survive, I would expect to find a paragraph that states: “Cliffhangers are fine — but not when applied literally.”

With quattro all-wheel drive, loads of safety electronics and adaptive “Magnetic Ride”, there was no fear that Audi’s new TT Roadster would go OTT. It nipped around the winding stretch of road that parallels the cliffs with a tight grip on reality and security.

If it was unusual, to put it mildly, for a manufacturer to include Beachy Head on a test route for a new model, it was equally unlikely that the UK version of a soft-top sports car would be launched in this country in February. Audi, though, was confident of the roadster being a total all-weather solution — and it is.

Like its Coupé sibling, the new Roadster (prices from £26,915) is better in every way than the model it replaces. The original TT Roadster may have been regarded as something of a styling icon, but it also had a mildly dumpy look. Now longer, wider and fractionally higher, the new version has crisper styling and enhanced road presence. Its aluminium and steel body successfully fights the flab, trimming up to 90kg off the weight of its predecessor. It has a fine front-rear balance, too, and its bodyshell is 120 per cent more rigid, feeling more like a coupé of a few years ago. Quite an achievement.

The Roadster’s folding top opens and closes in only 12 seconds at speeds up to 19mph (a big plus on a now-wet-now-dry, chilly winter’s day) and is totally automatic. It fits precisely, to give the car almost a coupé ambience, and folds away into a compact space, leaving plenty of luggage room. The cockpit is roomy for tall drivers, very comfortable and acceptably draught-free with the roof down. There is a power-assisted mesh wind deflector, a nifty addition to the toy box.

Engine choices are 2.0litre turbo or 3.2litre V6, with manual six-speed gearbox standard on both cars. An auto-plus-manual paddleshift S tronic twin-clutch system (it used to be called DSG) is optional. The paddles could be bigger but otherwise it suits the car totally.

Audi only took along the 3.2 version of the roadster to the car’s UK launch. At £31,535 plus £1,400 for the S tronic, it is a big price jump compared to the front-wheel drive Turbo but has quattro as standard. The manual V6 makes 62mph in 6.1sec — versus 6.7sec for the Turbo — but fuel consumption, acceleration and emissions figures (29.7 mpg, 5.9sec, 227 g/km) are all better with S tronic.

Snuggled down in the superbly engineered and trimmed cockpit, wind deflector in place, hot air blasting out, the TT gives a great drive. Its speed-sensitive steering controlled by a chunky wheel, is sufficiently sharp, and the optional (£1,150) Magnetic Ride suspension gives a choice between smooth comfort and very firm sport settings. The system uses dampers filled with a fluid containing minute magnetic particles.

Apply a current to electromagnets, the dampers firm up, and the result is tightly controlled roll and pitch.

Audi says that the Roadster will be bought mainly by “young, dynamic, upwardly mobile people” aged between 30 and 45, having an average monthly income of £4,500. A high proportion will be women but the TT is in no danger of being labelled “girlie”.

Compared to the Turbo, as well as all-wheel drive, the 3.2 gets 18-inch alloy wheels (19inch are an option but don’t help the ride), bigger brakes and Nappa leather upholstery. For style, quality, engineering excellence, handling and performance, the TT Roadster is a thoroughly impressive package. And after a few years of ownership, its expected high residual values shouldn’t be a cause for depression — an added feeling of security when you are in the area of a well-known drop-off point.

Specification

Car Audi TT Roadster 3.2 quattro.
Engine V6 3.2litre 250 PS
Transmission Six-speed manual or S tronic.
Performance Manual, 0-62mph, 6.1sec; S tronic, 5.9sec; top speed 155 mph.
Fuel consumption combined Manual 27.2mpg; S tronic 29.7mpg.
CO2 emissions Manual 250g/km; S tronic 227g/km.
Price £31,535.
On sale Now.
Alternatives:
Porsche Boxster Great drive, fine engine, looks good. Cockpit a shade tight for tall folk.
Mercedes-Benz SLK Folding hardtop, handsome, handy, good value.
BMW Z4 Individualistic looks, competitively priced.

I remember it well: a Saturday in October 1993, a huge bouquet of flowers, a cool bottle of champagne, the dog gambolling in the autumn sunshine, anxious to get in on the party.

It was the ceremony of the keys, but instead of locking up the Tower of London this was all about unlocking our new BMW 3 Series Coupé, just delivered by Alan, the salesman, who was clutching the goodies — and the keys to the shiny blue machine.

Some BMW dealers do things such as this and it is a great start to a relationship with them and with the car, but mostly the champagne helped to reduce my shock at spending so much money.

Now, in its fourteenth year and with more than 140,000 reliable miles beneath its mildly scuffed alloys but still looking remarkably smart, the aged Coupé has become a family fixture, handed from one member to another and now owned by Patrick, who graduated to it from a weary old Metro that had seen him through university. Insurance costs him almost as much as the car is worth, but the Coupé’s image, all these years on, is still as cool as that bottle of champagne.

But what if it had been an old diesel — would it still be cool, would he be seen anywhere near it? In the early 1990s, there was no diesel 3 Series Coupé; even the thought would have been anathema to most BMW owners.

How things have changed. Today, the star of the latest generation of 3 Series Coupés is the diesel 335d. Its 3.0-litre, 286bhp, six-cylinder, bi-turbo engine even eclipses the petrol-powered 335i. Not in outright performance — although it is only slightly behind — but in its overall ability to accelerate with determination.

It barely pauses for breath as the smaller of its turbochargers gets things moving before handing the booster baton to the larger to continue the power delivery, engine and six-speed automatic gearbox working in slick harmony to serve up maximum benefit from the 580Nm of torque available from only 1,750rpm.

“Sporting diesels”, as BMW calls them, are thoroughly satisfying to drive and people who continue in their cloth-eared determination to write off diesel power as noisy, smelly, lugubrious and fit only for vans, rep-mobiles and people who make every journey an economy run are just plain wrong.

Well, almost, because the 335d Coupé is very economical. Official combined fuel consumption figure is 37.7mpg and I averaged 41mpg for a 250-mile trip on a mix of motorway, main and rural roads.

But this car is not only about frugal high performance. Its handling is a revelation, with a lashed-down feeling that makes the car feel controllable and precise. Steering is slightly heavy but exactly right for the car. Ride, though, is very firm for a luxury coupé. The planned M Sport version will be even firmer.

More than just a 2+2, the Coupé will carry four adults, but rear seat knee-room is limited. The rear seat backrest folds down to expand the already large (430 litres) boot.

Standard equipment is comprehensive, with lots of safety-enhancing chassis electronics, plus hill-start assistance, cruise control, run-flat tyres, automatic transmission, electric sports seats — and a seatbelt, with Jeeves mode, that hands itself to you when the door closes.

Price is £35,475, but many buyers will opt for extras including Bluetooth telephone preparation (£535), navigation system (£1,970) and a sunroof (£675). As for the Coupé’s exterior aesthetics, they are impressive at the front, rather heavy and bland at the rear. However, it passed the “look at me I’m cool” test on a busy M25, attracting and nods of appreciation. The M Sport Coupé will have added styling details.

Did the mobile audience know that it was a diesel? In 2007 it makes no difference; it is cool and I suspect that, like our old car, will always be — even on the run-up to its fourteenth birthday.

Specification

Car BMW 335d SE Coupé
Engine Diesel, 3.0-litre with 286 PS, 580Nm of torque
Performance 0-62mph in 6.1sec, top speed 155mph
Economy combined 37.7mpg
Emissions 200g/km
Transmission Six-speed automatic
Price £35,475
On sale Now

The rivals

Peugeot 407 Coupé
Stylish, comfortable, excellent 2.7-litre V6 diesel engine

Mercedes-Benz CLK Coupé
Elegant 320 cdi 224bhp, seven-speed auto gearbox. Styling showing its age

Audi A5 Coupé
Coming this summer, should be very good and includes a 3.0-litre turbo-diesel

Ever since the first sporting cars were produced more than a century ago, there has existed a perception that fun is directly proportional to power and price. But then, just occasionally, a car like this Fiat Panda 100HP comes along and turns that on its head.

It costs less than £10,000 and, as its name suggests, has just 100bhp, yet I spent a few days bowling about southeast Wales in one and can name any number of allegedly sporting cars with more than twice the power and price that would have been less than half as much fun.

This car represents Fiat at its brilliant best. Indeed, it seems to me that, for this embattled marque at least, the relationship between power, price and fun is inversely proportional. Even a basic Panda is clearly conceived and smartly executed, but by the time you work your way up through the model ranges and reach the heady heights of the Croma, you start to wonder if you wouldn’t really be better off on the bus.

None of this should surprise you. Despite its insistence on building large and undesirable cars, Fiat is actually in its element when building cars like this. Its genius for small car construction can be traced back before the war to the original Topolino. The Nuova 500 that replaced it was a cleverer, cuter piece of design than the original Mini and even the more modern Pandas and Cinquecentos have been charming and effective.

The Panda 100HP is all this and more. Fiat has figured out that even a 100bhp engine will still provide decent performance if installed in a car weighing less than a ton. True, few people are likely to get overexcited by a 0-62mph time of 9.5sec and a top speed of 115mph, but if that were all there is to this tale, you’d never be reading about it here.

Its real magic lies elsewhere. For a start it looks terrific with its pugnacious stance on its fat alloy wheels, pushed-out wheelarches and chunky front and rear bumpers. The cabin looks funky and if you look down at the gearlever, you’ll find it has six forward speeds — in a car costing £9,995. What you won’t be able to see is that the suspension has been reworked to make the car feel like no Panda before and that the brakes have been uprated to cope.

The result is a car that may not be quick on paper but, out on the road where it matters, is startlingly rapid point to point. On a certain sort of narrow B-road, its diminutive dimensions mean you can travel at speeds you’d not hope to match in a Bugatti Veyron. Because it is light it not only has absurd levels of grip, it is also extremely agile, changing direction like an escaping POW dodging machinegun fire.

Best of all, because it is small, noisy and endlessly enthusiastic, it also conspires to feel much faster than it is, making it a car that can be enjoyed to the full without putting your licence on the line. I absolutely loved it.

Whether I could live with it is another matter. The driving position for a tall driver like me is pretty dreadful — you feel perched on the car with the steering wheel uncomfortably far away — there’s precious little room in the back or boot and long journeys are inevitably compromised by high noise levels in the cabin and the rollerskate ride.

But these cars will be bought by the young, and the young don’t even know what ride and refinement are and won’t be in the least bit bothered by their absence.

Yet this is not the Fiat I’m most excited about. True to the Fiat form book, the one I’m really looking forward to is even smaller, cheaper and less powerful than this. Later this year Fiat will launch its new 500, a direct descendant of the Topolino. In concept form it looks beautiful — true to, but not tied to, its roots — and easy even now to visualise in the crowded piazzas of Milan and Turin.

If it’s as good to drive as it is to look at, it could be a landmark in small car design. We’ll know for sure in September.

VITAL STATISTICS

Model Fiat Panda 100HP
Engine type 1368cc, four cylinders
Power/torque100bhp @ 6000rpm / 97 lb ft @ 4250rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 43.5mpg (combined cycle) / 154g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 9.5sec / Top speed: 115mph
Price £9,995
Verdict Small, fast and fun, exactly what all Fiats should be
Rating 4/5
Date of release Out now

THE OPPOSITION

Model Citroën C2 1.6i VTR £11,445
For Good looking, quite good to drive
Against Getting old, build quality not the best

Model Ford SportKa SE £9,995
For Terrific fun to drive, good performance
Against Cheap-looking cabin, interior noise levels

Andrew Frankel

It feels like I’ve become trapped in a parallel universe where life plays out in mirror image. Earlier this month I left a shirtsleeve-warm London and flew to a Phoenix, Arizona, so cold that journalists attended an outdoor press conference wrapped in blankets.

Then I got up and climbed aboard a BMW with a folding metal roof that more than one BMW engineer had told me the company would not make. And then, despite its twin turbo engine and more than 300bhp output, I didn’t much enjoy driving it.

So if I return home and discover friendly staff at Heathrow and no roadworks on the M4, I doubt I’ll be surprised.

It’s not often a car manufacturer goes out of its way to lower expectations of a car before you drive it, but BMW did a good job with this new 3-series convertible.

Albin Dirndorfer, its project manager, claimed convertible drivers were more interested in a “relaxed” drive than a sporting one, and then went on to point out that the coupé on which it is based met “much higher dynamic requirements than the convertible”.

I was rather heartened by this. Indeed I applaud BMW for daring to say what other convertible manufacturers know but still absurdly try to cover up: namely that there is not now, nor has there ever been, a convertible that’s as good to drive as the closed car on which it’s based.

The reasons are always the same: convertibles are structurally less rigid than coupés and, in an attempt to ameliorate some of the worst symptoms of this lack of torsional rigidity, manufacturers reinforce the chassis, making the cars much heavier. In fact the convertible 3-series weighs 463lb more than the coupé.

To understand what effect that might have on its performance, handling and economy, imagine how your car might behave with two baby elephants on board. Exactly. In fact once you’ve added an average driver, the convertible is heavier than an empty 7-series limousine.

What’s remarkable, then, is how little this appears to have dented its performance: the top-of-the-range 335i model is just 0.3sec slower to 62mph, its top speed is the same electronically limited 155mph and its fuel consumption has fallen just 1.2mpg. This, however, is not how it appears on the road.

Despite the fact that convertibles usually feel quicker than they are thanks to their proximity to the elements, this 335i never felt like it had 306bhp under the bonnet. When I drove its coupé sister last year I described its performance as relentless. This one never graduated beyond pleasantly quick, and you can thank the elephants for that.

BMW reckons this lack of knuckle-whitening excitement will trouble its customers little, not least because it’s quicker than its immediate rivals, and the company is probably right. Try as I might I cannot see a prospective 335i convertible buyer crying into his or her chardonnay about the adverse effect of the roof on its power-to-weight ratio. It’s more likely they’ll complain that it looks a trifle dull with the roof down and more than a trifle dumpy with it raised.

As Volvo did with the C70, BMW has taken the more difficult but theoretically more aesthetically pleasing option of a roof with three short sections instead of two long ones, but the Volvo is, to me at least, substantially the prettier of the two. And that’s without mentioning Audi’s visually gorgeous soft-top A4 Cabriolet, which is better looking by far than either of its hard-topped opponents.

Still, I hadn’t been at large in Arizona for long before my initial disappointment ebbed away. Roads that stretch arrow-straight for miles into the desert come with 40mph limits and a bewildering number of state troopers with the will and the way to enforce them. One was kind enough to show me his new Taser and proudly announced that not only would it put 50,000 volts through a man 21 yards away, but that it had done just that only yesterday; suddenly I wanted to be extra law abiding.

Instead of putting my foot down I sat back and cruised and, while I don’t associate small 300bhp BMWs with this activity, it is by far the strongest suit of this particular one. It rides beautifully, shakes little even on rough surfaces and manages the airflow around the cabin exceptionally well.

I’d brought no warm-weather gear because who would in the Arizona desert? Yet driving with the roof down in temperatures barely above freezing was no hardship at all. It steered nicely into the few corners there were and took me round the state with a minimum of fuss. Which was all very pleasant.

But while I may seem to damn with such faint praise, the truth is BMW has done as well as can be expected. The Audi S4 Cabriolet is heavier and slower than the 335i convertible, despite having a fabric roof, and while I haven’t driven them back to back I have no doubt which I’d prefer. Likewise the Volvo C70, even in flagship T5 guise, is about as exciting as a tax form.

Remember, too, that this £37,895 335i SE version is as exciting as the 3-series convertible is likely to get. It goes on sale on March 24 with the 218bhp £33,030 325i, while the 320i, 330i and diesel 330d needed to complete the range arrive in the summer.

Dirndorfer, who was also responsible for the 3-series coupé, finished his presentation by explaining why he cannot answer the question he gets asked the most: which does he prefer, the coupé or the convertible? “It is like being asked to choose between a sporty son or a beautiful daughter,” he claimed. Leaving aside the daughter’s undoubted beauty, it’s the son every time.

The convertible may be good by chop-top standards — and it’s probably the best in its class — but the coupé feels like a proper sporting BMW, something this convertible may aspire to but never comes close to achieving.

VITAL STATISTICS

Model BMW 335i SE Convertible
Engine type 2979cc, six cylinders
Power/Torque 306bhp @ 5800rpm / 295 lb ft @ 1300rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual
Fuel/CO2 28.5mpg (combined cycle) / 238g/km
Performance 0-62mph: 5.8sec / Top speed: 155mph
Price £37,895
Rating 4/5
Verdict Best in class, which sadly isn’t saying much
Date of release March 24

THE OPPOSITION

Model Audi S4 Cabriolet £43,025
For Great looking, well-built, quick
Against Little fun to drive, expensive

Model Volvo C70 T5 £33,250
For Great looking, smooth engine
Against Limited handling, performance

Stuart Birch

The communists of the former Soviet Union would have been thoroughly irritated by the facts and figures proudly released by Skoda at the launch of its new Fabia.

They show that the sales figures of the Czech Republic company, once in the thrall of communist Moscow but now part of the Volkswagen Group, continue to soar thanks to products that actually fulfil people’s needs and that they are proud to own; cars that are modern, safe, reliable and good-looking. By the whiskers of Lenin’s beard, whatever next?

It has been like that for a while. Last year, the Czech company produced 549,667 cars, almost double the 1995 figure of 279,363. In 1988, as the Soviet Union approached its demise, production totalled only 158,760.

Now, with modern factories in several countries, expansion in India, production starting in China and a new assembly facility under construction in Russia, sales of a million cars a year — the very suggestion of which would once have been regarded as a great Skoda joke — look distinctly possible. And it is the new Fabia that can help it to come true.

Skoda’s product maxim is not based on old German or Czech philosophies but on the thoughts of a Swede called Ingvar Kamprad: “Everybody knows how to design a table that is expensive and good. But the real challenge is to produce a table that is good and cheap.”

Mr Kamprad knew how to do it; after all, he was the founder of IKEA.

In fact, Skodas are not particularly cheap but they are certainly good, coming high in the discerning ratings of the quality-monitoring JD Power Report. Skoda says that market research shows nine out of ten present owners would recommend a Fabia to a friend. It does not say if the friendship continues after the sale, but I suspect it would.

The new Fabia hatchback — an estate version is planned as well — will also win friends. Up against stiff competition, including the Renault Clio, Ford Fiesta, Peugeot 207, Toyota Yaris and Fiat Grande Punto, it scores high marks on space, looks and practicality. The really amazing news, though, is that its designers must have actually been shopping.

Put a few plastic bags of food in the boot of most cars and they roll around with a frolicsome determination on every corner.

Not so in the Fabia. On the backrests of the rear seats are hooks on which to hang those recalcitrant bags. For a weekend shopping trip, there are a couple of extra ones that can be unfolded. That is Skoda’s simple commonsense design in action.

There are other neat touches in the same vein, including retaining wires running in the front-door bins to keep a road atlas or copy of The Times neatly in place.

The other big plus for the new Fabia is its extraordinarily spacious interior. Externally, the car is little larger than the previous Fabia that was launched eight years ago, but internally it has been given a touch of the Tardis, with a surprising amount of room for tall occupants of the rear seats and lots of space in the front, too, with plenty of seat and steering-wheel adjustment. Compared with a Ford, it feels at least halfway between a Fiesta and a Focus.

Engine choice is wide. Most popular will probably be the 1.4litre and smooth 1.6 petrol units — and low CO2 emission, three-cylinder 1.4 diesels in 68bhp and 79bhp forms — although the lower-powered version was unacceptably noisy and vibratory. There is also a 103bhp 1.9 diesel.

The smallest Fabia engine is the biggest surprise. A 1.2litre, three-cylinder petrol with 68bhp (59bhp optional), it is willing and economical, albeit not overendowed with torque, and not for those in much of a hurry.

The Fabia’s ride is excellent and handling sharp and sure on winding and poorly surfaced roads.

At the birth of the motor car era, the Red Flag Act was introduced to curb speed and development; it was soon abandoned. Skoda’s potential was also curbed by a red flag; its removal took rather longer.

But now it is accelerating hard towards its million-a-year sales dream — and I’m not joking.

Specification

Car Skoda Fabia
Engine 1.4 litre, 84bhp
Transmission Five-speed manual
Performance 0-62mph in 12.3sec, top speed 108mph
Fuel consumption combined 1.4, 43 mpg
CO2 emissions 155g/km
Prices Not confirmed but about £9,500 to about £13,000
On sale April

Alternatives

Renault Clio Chirpy, attractive, handles well.
Ford Fiesta Big seller, competent; diesels very good
Peugeot 207 Roomy, distinctive road presence
Toyota Yaris Has Toyota’s reputation for reliability
Fiat Grande Punto Attractive styling, space efficient, likeable

The R8 will do 187mph. It has all-wheel drive. It costs about £80,000 and is the first mid-engined sportscar built by Audi. The R8 is an homage to Audi motor sport, the 4.2litre V8 engine sitting a few inches behind the driver’s head, ready to howl away on demand.

This 420bhp powerplant is the heart of the car. Indeed, much of the engineering and technology derive from the track-going R8, Audi’s all-conquering racer that won the Le Mans 24 Hours race five times and the Sebring 24 Hours six times. While the all-wheel drive is the latest incarnation of Audi’s rally-bred 4 x 4 system.

The car looks far more menacing than its baby brother, the TT coupé. The R8 has huge, purposeful-looking wheels. Slashes in the sides not only suck air to the engine but add aggression to the looks. A powered spoiler at the back rises to maintain stability as speeds increase. Then there are the front lights, which use futuristic light-emitting diodes (LEDs) for a dramatic front end.

Made of aluminium, the chassis is light and stiff, which helps performance, as well as handling and road-holding. So as well as a top speed only autobahn drivers or track-day specialists will see, the R8 will go from a standstill to 62mph in 4.6sec, helped by all-wheel drive to maximise traction.

With such a rich motor-sport heritage and so much power, you might expect the R8 to be a handful in stop-start traffic or tootling through walking-pace rush-hour jams. Not a bit of it. Audi launched the R8 in Las Vegas, where crawling traffic is the norm. Away from the city, temptingly empty roads through the desert wilderness bristle with 25, 40 and 55mph speed limits. State Troopers await those driving recklessly, with the promise of a night in jail for serious speeders. Yet the car handles town jams and modest speed limits with ease.

Given its head at the Las Vegas Speedway race track, however, and the R8 shows what it is made of. The faster it goes, the more secure it feels, so confidence-inspiring that even modest driving skills are enough to drift the rear end out around the handling course.

And all the while, when worked in anger, that V8 engine is snorting and burbling, the electronic suspension adapting instantly to give maximum grip and ride control. The permanent all-wheel drive splits torque 35 per cent front and 65 per cent rear in normal driving conditions but varies constantly and automatically, sending up to 100 per cent of torque to the rear wheels, should conditions demand.

The car comes as a six-speed manual or as an automatic. The manual is slick and precise and there is even a Teflon nonstick lining to keep it that way. For the automatic, Audi has taken the Lamborghini Gallar-do’s box, reworked it and christened it the R-Tronic. Working the steering-wheel mounted paddles and with the Sport button pushed to harden the suspension, the car is in its element. Only in fully automatic does the transmission feel like the car’s weak point, with clun-ky gear shifts. Audi claims that the space behind the driver and passenger seats will take two golf bags, but a couple of coats and laptops are probably more like it. At the front under the bonnet is more luggage space for a couple of weekend bags.

Amazingly there is easily enough head and leg room for a driver who is close to 6ft 5in.

As for the competition, Audi will have to convince buyers that the R8 is a better bet than the Porsche 911 Carrera, which is almost as fast, cheaper (from £66,000) and with a badge on the nose with just as much motor-sport cachet. Or there is the 4.2litre supercharged Jaguar XKR, fractionally slower but again, at £67,495, cheaper, and the V8 Vantage from Aston Martin from £82,800.

Yet Audi has few worries about sales. It plans to build about 3,000 R8s a year, each one put together by hand. Even though the first R8s will not be seen in Britain until June, the 450 cars slated to arrive in 2007 are sold, as are the 750 for 2008 and most of the allocated 750 for 2009.

Specification

Car Audi R8 Quattro
Engine 4.2litre V8 producing 420bhp at 7,800rpm
Transmission Six-speed manual or automatic
Performance Top speed 187mph, 0-62mph in 4.6sec
Economy 19.3mpg comb
CO2 emissions 349g/km
Price Manual £76,725, automatic £81,925

Andrew Frankel

A little more than half a century ago, at 7.22am on May 1 1955, Stirling Moss left the start line of the Mille Miglia road race. Without the help of motorways and despite crossing a mountain range, just over 10 hours later he was back, having put nearly 1,000 miles under the spoked wheels of his Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR.

Nobody had done it so fast and nobody did so again. Moss’s win is the most famous of any by a Mercedes, and his car, still owned by the factory, is believed to be the most valuable in the world.

Why am I telling you this? Because the number on the side of the Mille Miglia cars correlated to the time it left the start line, which is why Moss’s number was 722 and why, more than 50 years later, Mercedes has put it on the side of another car. The result is the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren 722 Edition, which costs £340,000, £22,390 more than the standard SLR.

It is designed to appeal to those for whom the normal SLR power output of 626bhp is not quite sufficient. With a bit of electronic trickery, the 722’s motor has been tickled up to 650bhp, making it more powerful even than the only other production road car to wear a McLaren badge, the unforgettable F1. It’s lighter than the basic SLR, too, better braked and derives more grip not merely from its lowered, stiffened suspension but aerodynamically, thanks to a new front spoiler that increases the air pressure on the nose of the car at 150mph by a staggering 128%. And, as if it matters, its top speed rises 2mph to 210mph.

Even in the wide open spaces of the deserts of Oman and Dubai where I drove it, it feels science-fiction fast. When 170mph is just the nudge of a toe away, the challenge is not to see how fast you can go but how slowly. You might regard a car that can reach 60mph in less than 10sec as pleasantly swift — but give such time to this SLR and you’ll see the dark side of 120mph. It doesn’t howl and scream at you, as will a Ferrari 599 GTB, it roars and bellows instead as its supercharged 5.5 litre V8 motor clubs you up the road. It is a brutal, physically and mentally draining experience. And it’s just great.

But the more I drove it the more I realised this is a car that doesn’t know its station in life. On one hand it appears to want to be the ultimate high-speed touring machine: at a constant cruise it’s reasonably refined, the boot is big and it even has a nice and easy automatic gearbox.

Why, then, fit stiffened suspension that wrecks the ride quality? Why give it ultra-aggressive steering that makes it change direction like a racing car when the only effect this has on the public road is to make the car feel needlessly nervous?

And while I applaud the desire to fit brakes strong enough to reverse the Earth’s rotation, I don’t understand why they need a dead feel that’s disconcerting when you’re trying hard, and plain annoying in traffic. Ferrari and Porsche have similar systems on cars costing a fraction of this and they work just fine.

The idea behind the SLR was that it should provide the performance of an ultra-specialised supercar such as a Ferrari Enzo or a Porsche Carrera GT but in a package sufficiently civilised that owners would not be afraid to use it. I first drove it in 2003 and while it was undoubtedly a flawed product it hit this target with reasonable accuracy. By contrast the 722 has the performance but has lost the civility, without gaining the heart-stopping thrill of an Enzo.

Or, as can now be said, a Ferrari 599 GTB. The fact that Ferrari last year produced its greatest car in the past two decades makes me ponder the point of this SLR. The Ferrari is 0.1sec slower to 62mph and has a top speed 5mph lower. But I drove the 599 on roads 10 times tougher than those provided for the SLR and it coped with imperious ease, while simultaneously supplying one of the greatest drives of my life. And here’s the killer: at £171,825, the Ferrari is just a smidgeon more than half the price. Yes it’s made from aluminium rather than exotic carbon fibre like the SLR, but it is the result rather than how it is arrived at that interests me.

Not that this will bother Mercedes. Only 150 of these SLRs will be built and those destined for Britain have been sold. Mercedes is now turning its attention to the convertible SLR Roadster that will be shown this summer. Lacking the strange modifications that spoil the 722 but with a retractable roof and — probably — the 650bhp engine, I suspect it will suit the character of the SLR more. It will also find favour among customers who will want to make damn sure everyone knows who’s just spent a third of a mill on a car.

I suspect it will succeed like no other SLR before it, unless of course you count the one used by Moss to win the greatest race of his life.

VITAL STATISTICS

Model M-B SLR McLaren 722

Engine type 5439cc, eight cylinders

Power/Torque 641bhp / 604 lb ft

Transmission Five-speed automatic

Fuel/CO2 n/a

0-62mph/Top speed 3.6sec 210mph

Price £340,000

Verdict Ferrari does it better

Rating 3/5

Date of release Already sold out

The opposition

Model Ferrari 599GTB

For Best Ferrari in 20 years

Against Dubious looks

Model Lambo Murciélago

For Shatteringly quick

Against Difficult in traffic

Image :1 of 2

In the wake of the phenomenal response to Sky/NBC’s Battlestar Galactica TV series in 2004, and the cult, if not commercial, success of Michelle Ryan’s take on the Six Million Dollar Woman comes yet another rebooted Glen Larson classic. Knight Rider is to return to TV screens in 2008.

The original 1980s series featured David Hasselhoff as Michael Knight, a mysterious vigilante righting wrongs across a suspiciously clean America with the help of an artificial intelligence, K.I.T.T., embedded in his heavily modified Pontiac TransAm.

Hasselhoff went on to create Baywatch and became an ironic icon with an acute awareness of the nature of his appeal. The car, which all but the most pedantic viewers prefer to call K.I.T.T., has surfaced on eBay more than once: a number of TransAms were used for the show and several more have since been modified by enthusiasts to resemble the Knight Industries 2000.

The 2008 show Knight Rider stars Justin Bruening as Michael Knight’s estranged son Mike Tracer, an ex-Army ranger and creator of a new K.I.T.T. Purists are already expressing outrage that this time K.I.T.T will be portrayed by a Ford GT500KR rather than the classic Pontiac.

Ford are planning to market a limited edition replica K.I.T.T complete with Cylon-style ‘scanner’ light on the front. It’s said to be a coincidence that the 2008 5.4 L supercharged V8 Ford Shelby GT500-KR has those initials at the end of its name. The Shelby Mustang has been known as ‘King of the Road’ since its 1960s debut but fans will still no doubt draw the obvious inference.

It’s thought that the new model K.I.T.T. might even be able to ‘transform’ into a humanoid robot, although this feature is unlikely to be implemented on the retail model. Ratatouille and Grindhouse actor Will Arnett will be replacing William Daniels as the voice of the car.

The feature length pilot for the reimagined Knight Rider will premiere in the United States on February 17, followed by a full series later in the year. Hasselhoff, star of the original 80's TV show is expected to make a cameo appearance as Michael Knight.

New KITT v old KITT, which do you prefer? Leave your comment on the form below

If you had no idea what powered Honda’s FCX Concept, it would still be a great car. Drive it under the illusion that a super-quiet diesel or petrol engine was tucked under the bonnet and you could not help but be impressed. When you realise it runs on electricity generated by its oxygen and compressed hydrogen fuel cell, and that the only emission is water, the car becomes all the more significant.

“It is a matter of when, not if, fuel cell cars come to the UK,” a Honda spokesman said. “We have experimented with other technologies including hybrid cars and that only convinced us that ultimately hydrogen fuel cells are the long-term solution.”

The Japanese company is so committed to fuel cell technology that it expects to be building 400,000 such cars a year by 2020. The FCX Concept is almost identical (the bumpers will change) to the version that will go on sale in Japan and America next year. This is a four-door saloon with a hint of rakish Aston Martin styling at the back, a glimpse of Lamborghini in the short, blunt nose, all part of a sleek, smooth and purposeful package.

Inside, the dashboard is clean and uncluttered, with very good visibility. The light tan of the upholstery and roof linings gives an airy feel. For devoted environmentalists, the fact that the roof, door and boot linings, and carpets and seat upholstery are made from processed corn only adds to the car’s “green” attributes.

Despite the low roofline, there is plenty of head and legroom in the front and rear seats for someone over 6ft 4in. On a private, new test track on the Swedish island of Gotland, the car handled well, even if there was a bit of tyre squeal.

The car is not perfect, however. Boot space is limited because the hydrogen tank takes up a lot of space and it is difficult to get a real feel for the car’s performance as it makes virtually no noise. It chirrups, beeps and twitters at you, like a cross between a Star Wars robot and a spin-dryer at full chat, idiosyncrasies that arise because of the car’s power source.

There are only two FCX cars in the world at present, which makes the car I drove worth around £5 million given Honda’s hefty investment in its technology. The real beauty of the FCX, though, is that, if you had no idea what was powering it, it would still be a good car. This is the feat motor manufacturers are going to have to pull off if they are to convince motorists to buy cars that do not pollute.

Sachito Fujimoto, the Honda senior chief engineer, said: “This is not just a show car. This car will be on the road very soon. The fuel cell stack combines oxygen from the atmosphere, and compressed hydrogen stored in a pressurised tank in the boot, in the fuel cell, which then undergoes a chemical reaction to produce the electricity which drives the car’s electric motors.”

Acceleration is on a par with a 2.4 litre petrol saloon, except that maximum torque is instant and does not build up as the revs rise, as with a petrol and diesel. Full power is there the moment you press the accelerator.

To turn the car on, you pull forward a switch to the right of the steering wheel. That’s it. The car is silent, but the central display in front of you tells you that the car is ready. Press the accelerator and as you move forward a whine, more a whistle, builds up, with a few beeps. The main impression, though, is of rapid progress achieved in a quiet, refined car.

As for supplies of compressed hydrogen, Honda is confident that energy companies will respond to demand and establish refuelling stations capable of filling fuel cell cars with pressured hydrogen. If they do not, Honda can always sell owners its own Home Energy Station, which extracts hydrogen from natural gas and then pressurises it for use in the car.

Citroën’s task was simple: create a totally basic vehicle that was essentially four wheels under an umbrella, able to carry four people in comfort plus 50kg of potatoes at 60km/h (37mph) on unmade or pavé roads – or a basket of eggs over a ploughed field without breaking one.

The result was the roly-poly, long lived but ultimately trendy and much loved 2CV deux chevaux. By 1939, 200 prototypes had been built and the odd-ball stayed in production until 1990.

Now Citroën is at it again but customer expectations have changed: the no-frills C-Cactus diesel-electric hybrid concept may also have four wheels but they are under a panoramic polycarbonate roof and the interior is air-conditioned. Like the 2CV, it is able to carry four people in comfort and lugging 50kg of potatoes would be a doddle. For ecological reasons, top speed is limited to 93mph.

Although ploughed fields are out, the C-Cactus could carry a few dozen bottles of Beaujolais across Europe, not only without breaking one but also without leaving a broad carbon footprint. It is super-economical, averaging about 83mpg and with emissions down to 78g/km, way below any scheduled official requirement.

Driving the C-Cactus is a weird experience. I had a nagging feeling that something was missing – like the dashboard. Not necessary, apparently. Passenger airbag? Not necessary. The glovebox? Hang a bag on a hook shaped like a butterfly brooch. Window switches? The windows don’t open.

The air-conditioning system is there but forms part of the interior styling, looking like the intake of an airliner’s turbofan engine, or possibly a hairdryer for the super-follically endowed. The steering column is exposed and the transmission selector is a simple “ego” switch: “Push it like this and the car ’e go forward . . . like this and ’e go backward.” The floor of the C-Cactus is upholstered in recycled leather offcuts, its hollow door panels have wool trim and door exteriors are unpainted. The rear seats simply slide forward and slot beneath the front seats to enable more potatoes to be carried.

If it all sounds boringly basic, it isn’t, because instead of just designing a no frills, worthy car devoid of comfort or aesthetic appeal, Citroën has used its minimalist approach to maximise its attractiveness, like a sort of mobile Pompidou Centre. It may look pug ugly at first glance, but I warmed to it on my drive near Paris.

Emmanuel Lafaury, Citroën’s technical manager for concept cars, explained how the number of interior components was halved: “The car just has what is essential: attractive design, air-conditioning, a high-quality audio system, cruise control – and full safety systems. We used the same moulding [the concept is of carbon fibre] for part of the front of the car and for the rear. Crash safety is not a problem and we think that a limited top speed of 150km/h [93mph] is fast enough, so we don’t have to have such large and expensive brakes.” Diesel and electric motor work together for maximum acceleration.

Abandoning everything that is not essential helps to reduce weight and particularly offset the cost of the C-Cactus’s highly efficient but equally highly expensive diesel-electric hybrid drive system and indicates how the philosophy could – and will – be applied to a production car. In city traffic, the Cactus just runs on its electric motor.

Mass produced in a rather less extreme form, the C-Cactus, which is based on the Citroën C4 Picasso platform, could sell at about the same price as today’s most basic C4 – about £12,000, but the running costs would be sensationally low and it could become as trendy as the quirky 2CV.

Cathal Loughnane, the Citroën interior designer, said: “The C-Cactus has been created in the spirit in which the 2CV was conceived. Every aspect of it serves a necessary function. But this time, we have avoided the look of a cheap car.”

If Citroën could keep its nerve and plant the Cactus on the market soon, there would be no real competition; it could be in an un cheval race.

Variation on a theme

Car Citroën C-Cactus concept
Engine 1.4litre 70bhp turbo-diesel plus 30bhp electric motor
Transmission Five-speed robotised manual
Performance Top speed 93mph (electronically limited), 0-62mph approx 10sec
Fuel consumption (combined) 83mpg
CO2 emissions 78g/km
Price As a one-off concept, about a million euros (£747,000); in production £12,000
Alternatives Lots of quirky concepts seen at Motor Shows

When I was growing up, and it wasn’t that long ago, we had electricity for only three days a week, we drove cars that wouldn’t start, we used rats to take away rubbish, and dead bodies, and a cup of tea was considered a luxury good.

And now we spool forward 30 years to find that round where I live there are women with crisp shirts and nice hair who make a living by decorating other people’s Christmas trees.

Don’t you find that amazing? That someone has persuaded a bank manager that there is a demand for such a thing, let alone such a volume of demand that it would overcome the extremely seasonal nature of the business? I can only presume that they charge £25,000 per tree.

Mind you, £25,000 these days is nothing. I know someone who paid that for a pair of binoculars. And £25,000 for a gun is considered good value. In just 30 years, then, Britain has been transformed from the Old Kent Road into Mayfair, the Community Chest and the entire bank.

And I was there when it all began. The year was 1982 and the place was Fulham. Specifically, Parsons Green, and, even more specifically, my local. The White Horse.

When I started drinking there, it was a painter and decorator’s pub and everyone drank stout. If you’d have strolled in and asked for a vodka, your head would have been kicked in before they’d got the rust off the optics. But then along came the privatisation of British Telecom and all of a sudden everyone had £200.

It was the start. The White Horse was given wooden blinds and leather sofas, and friends of mine started dropping in after a day at work with enough money in their pockets to buy a house. One, a chap called Johnny who had an earring and a Ford Capri, suddenly remembered he was the Earl of Dumfries.

I think in my youth a City bonus was a chicken drumstick or some luxury crackers from Boots. But as Mrs Thatcher ran around privatising the water and the gas and the air, all of a sudden people starting getting enough each Christmas to buy an estate in Scotland. Or a small country in the Caribbean.

They were great times. Exciting times. Times when you felt anything was possible and that all you needed to become a billionaire was an idea. Any idea would do. I started writing about cars for local newspapers. Another mate came up with wheelie-bin cosies. Others bought and sold houses. And as all these businesses flew, it had a profound effect on the cars we all drove.

In the early days of the change, you couldn’t really go to the White Horse unless you had a Golf GTI. Preferably in Lhasa green with a splash of Val d’Isère mud up the side. There is no modern-day equivalent to this phenomenon. You lived in Fulham back then. You had one. It was that simple.

But then, as the bonuses got bigger, people started upgrading to the BMW 323i.

God, it was a good car. With its dainty pillars and uncomplicated styling, it was in many ways indistinguishable from a Ford Cortina. But unlike any Ford of the period, it started, it cost a bloody fortune and it went like stink.

And because it was rear-wheel drive, something with which the GTI brigade was unfamiliar, it was ever so easy to crash. This not only gave you something exciting to talk about in what had now become known as the Sloaney Pony, but it also gave you the opportunity to replace it with a 325i, which was even better.

This cost even more, but the amount of stuff it didn’t come with was astonishing. No, really. There was no radio and you had to wind the windows down by hand. It was just a light body and a big engine. And we all loved it more than we loved our genitals.

Sadly, since then, the 3-series has grown into middle age. It’s become fatter and bigger and slower. Deep down, a modern 3-series is still balanced and wondrous, but the excitement, the fizz, the thrill of those early cars is gone. Buried under a ton and a half of technology and kit.

Of course, because the 3-series became so enormous, BMW was able to launch the 1-series beneath it in the lineup. And that would have been fine but unfortunately it was styled by the same chap who did Corporal Jones’s butcher’s van in Dad’s Army. Even Queen Victoria would call it old-fashioned, with its sit-up-and-beg stance, its almost vertical windscreen and those idiotic swoops on the flanks.

All of this would have been only mildly annoying if it was thrilling to drive and more spacious inside than an art gallery. But it isn’t. The boot is microscopic, the rear legroom is suitable only for people who haven’t been born yet and the big-selling diesel is about as much fun as herpes. If this car were a person, it would be Piers Morgan.

Now, though, BMW has given its baby hatchback a boot to create what it calls the coupé, and frankly that looks like a recipe for even more calamity and disaster. Booted hatchbacks never work. You need only look at what happened when VW turned the Golf into the Jetta to know I’m right.

And then you have only to look at the 1-series coupé to know I’m wrong. It is by no stretch of the imagination a pretty car. But neither is it offensive. Which means it has exactly the same non-styling-driven appeal of the early 1980s 323i.

What’s more, the version I tested came with a big 3 litre twin-turbo six under the bonnet. That’s 306bhp, and that’s good too.

Step inside and it gets better.

You get the bare minimum of kit. Just a big, fat, chunky wheel, a snickety-snick six-speed manual box and, er, a rear-view mirror. I had hope in my heart as I set off; hope that, after 25 years, BMW was back in business making small, fast, simple sports saloons.

It is. Initially the brakes feel too sharp, but after a mile or so you adapt your driving style to suit and then you can sit back and revel in the joy of it all. The ride is perfectly judged; firm but not so taut that it pops your eyes out on every cat’s-eye. And on a motorway it settles down to be nicely on the right side of comfortable. The seats are bang-on, as is the driving position.

But it’s the engine that impresses most of all. It has one small turbo to spin up the instant you apply the power, and then a bigger one that trundles into life later to keep the power coming . . . in bigger and bigger lumps. This, and there’s no other way of saying it, is a great engine. A masterpiece. It doesn’t zing like the BMW straight-sixes of old but there’s so much muscle you don’t notice.

Then you leave the motorway and the road gets twisty and it’s like settling into your favourite armchair. The steering, the feel, the way you can adjust your line through the bend with the throttle. There is no other car made today in this sector of the market that gets even close. If you love driving, this is up there in a class of one.

Of course, a Mitsubishi Evo or a Subaru Impreza will grip more and slingshot you from bend to bend with more urgency, but if you prefer a more flowing style - less grip and more handling – then you would be better off with the little Beemer.

Faults. Well, the rear legroom is a squeeze, and it’s not what you’d call cheap. With no extras at all it squeaks in at under £30,000, but add one or two bits and it’ll shoot up to £34,000. That’s a lot.

Except, of course, it isn’t – not these days when people are spending that, and more, on family holidays and kitchens.

The fact of the matter is this. The 135 coupé is the best car BMW makes. I have no hesitation at all, then, in giving this long-awaited return to form the rare accolade of five stars.

Vital statistics

Model BMW 135i

Engine 2979cc, six cylinders

Power 306bhp @ 5800rpm

Torque 295 lb ft @ 1300rpm

Transmission Six-speed manual

Fuel 30.7mpg (combined cycle)

CO2 220g/km

Acceleration 0-62mph: 5.3sec

Top speed 155mph

Price £29,745

Verdict BMW’s finest

Read Charles Bremner's Paris blog

The dream of inexpensive, ecofriendly aviation has come closer to reality after a French test pilot achieved the first flight in a conventional light aircraft powered by an electric motor.

The Electra, a wood-and-fabric single-seater, flew for 48 minutes for 50km (30 miles) around the southern Alps, winning a global race to apply battery power to a fixed-wing standard aircraft.

The APAME group, founded to develop green aviation, said that the flight showed that nonpolluting, quiet light aviation was within reach.

“This will be a real aeroplane that will have an airworthiness certificate,” Anne Lavrand, president of APAME, said. “It is a machine built for anyone with a pilot’s licence.”

The quest to replace noisy, fossil-fuelled aircraft engines with quiet, clean power has been under way for nearly 30 years. The big hurdle is the punitive weight of batteries, which produce only 2 per cent of the energy from the same mass of petrol.

Paul MacCready, a celebrated Californian engineer, pioneered exotic solar-powered flying machines, one of which flew from Paris to Kent in 1981. Recent advances in battery technology have led to electric power for small unmanned observation drones and radio-controlled model aircraft as well as the extra drive for motor gliders. Last summer the French group and a US inventor each flew electric-powered, delta-winged microlight aircraft for the first time.

The last challenge has been to scale up electric drive to equip passenger-carrying conventional aircraft of the kind flown by recreational pilots. Ms Lavrand’s group, financed by French aerospace companies and other donors, started its project quietly 18 months ago. “When we began, no one believed we could do it,” she told The Times from APAME’s base, near the southern Alpine town of Gap.

The group used a Souricette kit aircraft and adapted to it a 25-horsepower British-made motor of a type that powers golf carts. The key to their pioneering flight on December 23 was the new generation of light lithium-polymer batteries, 48kg (105lb) of which supply power in the Electra, which has a 9m (30ft) wingspan.

A new category of modest-performing, light sport aircraft is ideally suited to the new battery power. Many recreational pilots will be prepared to forgo speed and range if they can escape the cost, noise and guilt of carbon-belching, gas-guzzling petrol engines, the firms say. Sonex, a leading American manufacturer of kit aircraft, is about to fly a 50-horsepower electric motor that will carry two people at 220km/h (135mph) for up to an hour before it has to be recharged.

Ms Lavrand said that the fuel cost per hour of the Electra was €1 (70p) compared with about €60 for an equivalent petrol-driven machine. The motor and batteries will cost between €10,000 and €15,000, about the same as existing small petrol engines.

“It’s expensive, but you have to think of it like buying the fuel up front,” Ms Lavrand said.

Electric power for larger aircraft, including airliners, is also on the horizon, with research by Nasa and Boeing into the holy grail of the field: hydrogen-fed fuel cells. These will drive electric motors with power like those on French high-speed trains.