Price: £7,990-£13,015
Top speed: 118mph
Acceleration: 0-62 in 10.1 seconds
Consumption: 40.9mpg (combined)
Emissions: 165g/km
Eco rating: 6/10
At the wheel: Paul Potts
Top gadget: Bag retainer in boot
In a word: Sweet

The first thing to clarify about the new Skoda Fabia is that it isn't actually a cake. The notable television advertising campaign for this reworked supermini shows resourceful bakers constructing one from sponge, biscuit and marzipan while Julie Andrews sings gaily of her favourite things. Be assured, however, that the real Fabia is formed from the usual range of metals and plastics, and contains no nuts, cream filling or jelly, and that, accordingly, breaking a bit off the dashboard, in a pang of hunger on longer journeys, is not an option.

Incidentally, in the interests of transparency and the continuing integrity of Guardian Weekend's motoring page, I feel obliged to declare, MP-style, a gift from Skoda, mailed out with some advance publicity for the Fabia, of a large, square, silver cake tin, of good quality, and the basic ingredients for a jam sponge, not including eggs (which don't post well).

I didn't make the sponge (and therefore, it follows logically, I did not apply the pre-moulded, marzipan car shapes Skoda had supplied by way of decoration), reckoning that this would be an act of collusion too far for a newspaper as proudly independent as this one. I did, however, put the silver tin in the cupboard, on the principle that it would be bound to come in handy sometime.

Let me be clear that I feel comfortable in my own conscience that not returning this unsolicited - and still, at the time of writing, unused - gift did not affect in any way the performance of my duties when it came to driving and assessing the car, some weeks later.

Some unvarnished truths about the Fabia. It came out seven years ago. It's the family hatchback that rescued Skoda from seemingly terminal joke status, automatically, in the process, stripping the world of stand-up comedy of 70% of its car-based material. It was well planned, well made, not at all ridiculous.

In its new form, it gets some squarer edges, a flatter roof and some mildly funky black pillars for that wraparound-shades look. It still feels tightly bolted, properly finished and reassuringly firm. It was already roomy and they have made it roomier, which is rarely a bad idea. And not only is it cosmically cheap, it is also endearingly easy to buy. Not for Skoda the confusing and embarrassing code names by which other companies separate their models - "Elegance", "Comfort", "Dynamique", etc. Skoda simply numbers its Fabias from 1 to 3. Press 1 for the basic package. Press 2 for extra knobs. Press 3 for knobs, bells and buzzers.

The high-profile advertising could have its disadvantages, of course. A friend's son said, "There's the cake car." Is this how any car wants to be known? But in a crowded market, it's good to be noticed at all.

Next up, a car built from bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens. Note to Skoda's PR department: in this event, please send no kettles or mittens. A crisp apple strudel, on the other hand...