Bare bones, the interior is unchanged. So the sills are huge, the plastics questionable, the creaks inevitable and the build quality still not what you’d expect of a £45k car.
Its likeable elements are consistent, too: the exposed, wilfully spartan tub, the low-slung seating position, the tiny steering wheel, the sensation that nothing is extraneous.
But after 20 years, the charm has worn thinner than ever. There’s still nowhere convenient to put anything (although an optional cupholder is coming) nor any real pleasure to be drawn from sitting in the car other than the visceral experience of going quickly.
The 250 does come with several advantages. First among them are the carbonfibre-backed seats, which are both an eyeful and adequately comfortable for buckets designed to keep you from spilling out into the neighbouring footwell.
The Alcantara trim, too, although underused – it’s on the pews and door cards – is predictably pleasant.
Less nice is the fabric roof’s continued capacity for stubbornness – whether taking it off or putting it on again – and its willingness to allow both water and excessive noise to leak into the cabin.