The Proton Impian is a four-door executive saloon of a highly unusual cheapness. This is going to make it something of a hard sell among executives, most of whom would regard 12,000 as an annual mileage, rather than the price in pounds of a company car. Isn't the point about an executive car the fact that it tops lesser white-collar cars in terms of leather, cigarette lighters and price? Maybe. But if the recession bites as deeply as some fear it will, we could see a few more people driving Impians than we currently do. Greet the first true executive saloon of the 21st century.

Alternatively, one can look at it from the other end and declare that the Impian represents a whole new leap into luxury for the minicab. Here, within reach of the 24-hour car service for the first time in history, are unimaginable minicab luxuries, such as fully operational rear electric windows and doors that close without the use of cleverly improvised coat-hangers. At least, certainly while the car is new. It comes with a three-year 60,000-mile warranty, after which it is all down to the owner whether or not the boot stays shut without string.

Proton is a Malaysian company, based at Shah Alam near Kuala Lumpur. Indeed, the Impian is, according to the company literature, "the first passenger car to be created entirely in Malaysia". Which, I guess, would be something to say about it when the neighbours were round.

"New car?"

"Yes, a Proton Impian."

"Any good?"

"Well, it's the first passenger car to be created entirely in Malaysia."

Another talking point might be the seemingly unpredictable involvement of the British company Lotus in the development of this car. Lotus lives most vividly in the popular imagination as the creator of terrifyingly earnest sports cars. One doesn't automatically associate the company with the blueprinting of minicabs - until you learn that Proton now actually owns a majority share of Lotus. Consequently, Lotus specialists briefed Proton engineers about suspension when the latter were busy making a hot hatch called the Satria Gti; and, thus, Lotus thinking informs the suspension on the Impian, too.

"New car?"

"Yes, a Lotus."

This would not be completely wide of the mark. Can you sense the presence of Lotus while driving the car? Possibly you can. Not because it growls like a monster and streaks away from traffic lights. In fact, the car has a very modest 1.6-litre engine made by Mitsubishi, which also - as one is strongly reminded while accelerating in the Impian - makes microwaves. But you don't expect the car to drive anywhere near as firmly as it does. It seems to promise the floppy and baggy ride provided by the more established minicab products from Nissan. On the contrary, it sits very proudly on the road, and the wheels respond promptly and tidily to the command of the steering wheel in a way one wouldn't predict in a car this size costing less than £20,000.

Passengers in the rear reported perfectly adequate comfort and leg-room. They did, however, tend to ask me, with barely concealed irritation, why I would choose to try to come over London's Blackfriars Bridge at that time of day, rather than heading down the Embankment and crossing at Lambeth, as they would have done themselves. And would I mind putting my foot down a bit, because they were late. And what did I mean, 10 quid? It was only eight quid last time.

Whatever Lotus's input elsewhere, it was apparently powerless to prevent Proton from going with a commercially bold, back-to-the-80s look for the Impian.

On first sight, the car looks like an old model Vauxhall that has been incredibly well-preserved under a tarpaulin in a garage - one careful owner, or even fewer. The vehicle's single concession to the rounded softness of contemporary car design is the nose of the bonnet, which, in a style possibly borrowed from Alfa Romeo, melts over the radiator grille, like liquid boiling over the lip of a saucepan.

Otherwise, the car looks touchingly old-fashioned in its stiff four-squareness. Again, this may make it hard to market. But it's worth a try. After all, if ABC and the Human League can tour again after all these years, why shouldn't it be possible for cars to come out with thumping great blocks for boots? One can also appreciate the advantages of buying a spanking new car that doesn't look spanking new. Only someone with an advanced grudge against material possessions would run a key down the side of an Impian. That is a peace of mind not vouchsafed to BMW and Audi owners, who - certainly in urban areas - must live in fear of an assault on their property every day of their driving lives.

Altogether, the quiet, unassuming nature of the Impian will seem positively attractive to people who would rather their car blended a little with the scenery and wasn't puppyishly seeking attention all the time for its youth and cuteness. That's a sizeable and probably increasing constituency in these economically troubled times. Fewer wine bars, more Impians. Face it - it's the future.