She’s Fabialous –but no classic

Skoda’s super-mini is absolutely Fabia-lous in so many ways – and I even grew to love the lurid yellow. But, oh, my aching back...

It’s not been my greatest car week, to be honest. Do you recall me smugly informing you of my appointment with James Bond in Rome this weekend? Well, it’s not happening any more. Not this weekend, not next weekend, not any weekend ever. My one-on-one with Daniel Craig during his downtime around the shooting of the big car chase for the new Bond movie, Spectre, is now itself a thing of fiction.

In fact, as you’re reading this, I’ll almost certainly be sitting with my tail between my legs home alone instead of larging it with Mr Bond over a glass of icecold Cervaro in a trattoria somewhere off St Peter’s Square. I knew I shouldn’t have blabbed before the event – it was always going to tempt fate.

I’m home alone because, after finally plucking up the courage to tell my wife exactly who it was I was sneaking off to interview in Italy, she promptly booked a spa weekend away for her and a mate along with our collective brood. Activities, treatments, meals and childminders have all been organised – I can hear them all living it up now. Never mind though, eh? Instead of hanging out with the world’s most renowned secret agent and trying not to get too much saliva on his brand-new Aston Martin DB10, look what we get to do: we get to test the new Skoda Fabia SE L. Oh joy of all joys. What’s more, it’s a lovely luminous bright yellow. How on earth am I not going to vent the whole of my crestfallen spleen on this poor innocent?

Such a godawful, four-wheeled, five-doored abomination 21st-century excuse for a motor car as this should never be allowed out in daylight, without question the worst vehicle I have ever had the terrible misfortune to be given cause to even step close to, let alone actually get in and drive.

I’m joking, of course. How can it possibly be? This little lady has already been voted Car Of The Year by one of the more respected motoring magazines. Although I have to confess I was more than reluctant to whip up any pro-Skoda zeal for a while in the post-Bond gloomy funk that had overcome me. Especially as I’d already peered through the window and seen the one thing that should never be allowed in any car with less than three litres of engine under its bonnet – an automatic gearbox. Aaarrrggghhh! No, God, please no.

This is not meant to be. Automatic gearboxes and small cars are like Fleetwood Mac after Rumours – they’re much better off apart.

But nay, nay and thrice nay, how wrong can a car-mad DJ be? When I did finally become unfunked enough to get started on this week’s test, it was surprise blimmin’ surprise.

The Fabia’s little auto transmission set-up was fine, in fact more than fine – it was positively groovy, smooth and more than one could ever wish for. I mean, it’s still entirely wrong and should never happen, but somehow Skoda has made it work. And it’s a nippy car, too: foot to the floor and whoosh, you’re off. The only real issue with the auto box is when you reselect forward after a spot of reversing – she does like to have a wee think before fully committing. Oh, and sometimes rolls back a bit during procrastination.

That said, most of the Fabias – and there are a good few to choose, from the €13,895 S 1.0 MPI through to the €21,295 1.4 TDI – come with manual transmission. Of which, apparently, there will be quite a few because – forgive me but I had no idea – this car really turns some people on, to the extent that they’re enquiring about vRS versions (which there won’t be) and even getting excited about a special Monte Carlo model (which there might be) that’s being touted as a possible variant later on this year or early next. OK, so she is officially a super-mini, but she’s still not a Peugeot or a Ford, although she does share much of her DNA with the VW Polo.

And although she feels a lot quicker than her stats suggest, she is a little on the awkward side when it comes to handling. She’ll do anything you ask of her as long as you don’t mind what she looks like while she’s doing it. A bit like me skiing – never pretty but I can get down anything as long as you don’t mind ugly. Yes, that’s exactly what she is

Comfort was the only other major issue I had. Honestly, I thought it was quite bad. After I drove to my pub in Surrey from The One Show on Friday night, my lower back was properly aching which, considering I don’t suffer any regular discernible back niggles, was poor to say the least. It was definitely to do with the car because it was that kind of lowerlumbar region, dull throb. I get it a lot in the old cars I drive, especially if the seat springs have gone. Strange really, considering how neat, presentable and upmarket the rest of the interior looked in general. I’m loath to point out once again there is a rear seat pantomime going on via the ridiculous suggestion that three actual people might somehow fit in the back. ‘Three at a pinch,’ said one kindly fellow reviewer.

SHE’LL DO ANYTHING YOU ASK IF YOU DON’T MIND HOW SHE LOOKS AS SHE DOES IT... LIKE ME ON SKIS