Like ping-pong, it goes forwards and backwards

YOU might imagine that filling entire pages with words about the new Hyundai i10 was impossible. That there simply could not be that much to say about a small Korean hatchback. And that I’d be waffling about the weather by the fourth paragraph.

Pah. I sneer in the face of your pessimism — 1 200 words on Hyundai’s new baby is a breeze, a cinch, a walk in the park. Because I’m a man who at school flatly refused to play cricket. As a result I would spend my Saturday afternoons in detention, writing essays on whatever took the duty master’s fancy. Once I had to write 1 000 words on the inside of a ping-pong ball.

Anyway, while you may snigger at the dreariness of this little hatchback, let me tell you that the other morning there was an elderly gentleman with a beige anorak, a worldweary face and a mobility scooter poring over it as though it were the Holy Grail. All around were Ferraris, Aston Martins and RollsRoyces, but Norman — I bet that was his name — was fascinated by the i10. He’d probably read all about it in Which? magazine. Or maybe Reader’s Digest.

So not only am I able to fill the pages with my review of this small car but there’s also an audience for what I have to say.

We all know the truth. Hyundai was going nowhere in the UK but then one day the government introduced a scheme allowing anyone to get a couple of grand for their old car, provided it was scrapped and replaced with something new. This was supposed to boost the British motor industry, but nobody scrapped their old Austin Maestro and then went off to purchase an Aston Martin or a Bentley. What they did was buy a new car that was cheap. A Hyundai, in other words.

And they were delighted. So they filled in forms saying: “I’m delighted”, and all of a sudden Hyundai had huge sales and the happiest customer base in Christendom.

That’s why Norman was so interested in the new i10. Because he’d heard from his mate, Albert, that the old version was the best car he’d ever driven. “Tell you what, Norm,” Albert had said, “it’s better than my old Austin Metro.” And it was.

So what about the new one? Well, first we need to put it in context. We need to understand what it’s up against. What other cars out there are vying for your cash. We must consider all the other teeny hatches that you can buy these days.

The 1-litre Ford Fiesta is fabulous — easily the best of them all. But it is expensive, which is why my favourite is Volkswagen’s Up!. It manages to be cute without being twee, which is a problem that affects Fiat’s otherwise wonderful 500.

I recently drove an Up! all the way across Ukraine, from the Crimean peninsula in the south, through the majestic city of Kiev to Chernobyl in the north. I rather liked Ukraine. And I liked the Up! too. There are times when you wish the 1-litre 3-cylinder engine had a turbocharger, but when you’re not trying to overtake a lorry on a hill, it’s fine. It will cruise at 135km/h, and if you drive normally you’ll get good value from your fuel. But it’s the big personality of this little car that I liked best of all. It’s determined to push its way to the front of the queue.

Small cars need to feel this way. Big ones can be quiet or fast or pretty or even boring. But a small car has to be fun. It has to feel as if it’s making an effort, as if it wants to get there first. Small cars need stripes and snazzy upholstery and big, wide-eyed headlights.

If a small car is right, it can be more rewarding to drive than any aloof Mercedes, BMW or Audi. I enjoy taking a tiny 3-cylinder to the red line and driving as though my hair’s on fire, knowing that when I get to the next corner I don’t have to slow down at all, because I’m still doing only 50km/h.

Which brings me back to the new i10. The model I tested costs £9 995 (R178 718) — about the same as a mid-range Up!. It comes with a non-turbocharged 1-litre 3-cylinder engine. Granted, it also comes with more of the little luxuries as standard. You get five doors, plenty of legroom in the back and a decentsized boot and, er, it goes forwards when you press the accelerator and slows down a bit when you brake. Also, it is easy to park.

What it lacks is any form of spark. There’s not even a trace of personality. It is boring, and as a result it’s like sitting in the inside of a ping-pong ball that . . . Oh no, I’m out of space. And I was just getting into my stride.

Verdict: Can’t we talk about something else? Ping-pong balls, perhaps?