Mini Cooper S
Price £15,995
Top speed 140mph
Acceleration 0-62 in 7.1 seconds
Consumption 40.9mpg
Eco rating 6/10
At the wheel Twiggy's daughter
Top gadget Speedo-based sat nav
In a word Friendly
It may, just about, be possible to form an active and vigorous hatred for the Mini, but you rarely see it done. It's the car people feel chummy about, regarded by owners and non-owners alike as an amiable presence and an all-round force for good.
Round my way, and round yours, too, perhaps, a squadron of brightly resprayed and noisily logo'd Minis has been adopted as a company fleet by a prominent estate agency chain. Surely if anything was ever going to strip the public's sentimental attachment to a product faster than a cloud of locusts, it would be knowing that it contained an estate agent. Even this, though, the Mini has survived, continuing to quicken the pulse on sight and lift the spirit. Clearly, the brand is made of plutonium.
BMW launches this first update on the modern-era Mini amid the usual sweaty-palmed equivocation. It's a new car - but, of course, it's the old car really. It's vitally altered in every aspect from the ground up - but we haven't touched it at all, in fact, they seem to be saying. It's completely different - but it's totally the same.
You can understand their anxiety. Custodians of a "style icon", they tinker with the Mini knowing that almost everyone will be looking over their shoulders - from the hubcap-spotting historian who believes that a Mini can only truly be driven by Twiggy, via the thrill-seeking enthusiast who knows the script for The Italian Job backwards, all the way through to the casual observer who isn't really all that bothered about cars but can nevertheless raise an end-of-empire harrumph for the knowledge that Mini is now a German subsidiary. Mini is a bit like the Balkans in this respect: too much history.
Still, it's enough that the new Mini Cooper S is quicker yet more frugal, rippingly handsome all the way around, and as thumpingly, tear-jerkingly British as any car can be that is designed by Munich-based Germans in dark suits and expensive polo shirts.
All the old details are present, but a touch bigger, from the puppyish round headlamps to the tea-plate speedo, now bristlingly wired for 21st-century infotainment - the optional sat nav and TV screen. Retro toggles? On board again, but more of them. And you can change the colour of the interior lighting - from watery blue to warm orange, depending on your mood.
And though, by comparison with the original Minis, it's a midi in size, it is still built for rapid twists and light-footed shuffles and general go-kart-style amusement. If, even now, your rear passengers must travel with their ears cosily covered by their knees, then that, too, is part of the full Mini heritage experience, and not to be complained about.
And you can still personalise the roof. The Union Jack is popular, and the chequered flag, too. But apparently the real Mini-borne comedians these days are going for mock-helipad markings. Call me nervous, but if I was going about in a Mini with a giant 'H' on its roof, I would possibly struggle to subdue the worry that, while innocently parked at the roadside and fiddling with the sat nav, I might abruptly find myself under 15 tonnes of hired Sikorsky and three visiting American businessmen. Go for plain white, maybe. It's safer.
