I drove a Mini last night - not a BMW hatchback wearing a Mini badge, but a real Mini, the one we voted Car of the Century back in 1995.
I'd forgotten the crummy fixtures and fittings, the bouncy ride, the who-left-the-windows-open refinement and the fact that, contrary to popular belief, there's no room inside at all.
It's effective too. In central London, an original Mini is still a devastatingly quick device, especially if it's fitted with one of the rortier versions of the 1275cc A-series engine.
No gap in the traffic is left unplugged while every roundabout provides an opportunity to savour steering that seems more closely related to that of a kart than a road car. I've driven racing cars that don't turn in as well as this.