Neil Lyndon struggles to get to grips with the new Mini JCW GP, a hot hatch costing £28,7
90.
Snap, crackle, pop. Not the sound of milk being poured onto cereal but the fusillades that resounded from a procession of Mini JCW GPs as they hurtled into corners on hill roads in Portugal at the press launch. Select the “Sport” mode for the transmission and suspension settings. Then, whenever you lift off the throttle pedal at speed, a small overrun of excess fuel will surge into the hot tailpipes and ignite there like firecrackers.
Formula One cars give out a sound like this on the circuit. It is a racket that makes boys out of men. “Silly, I know, but I love it,” grinned a chap at the launch. “It makes you feel as if you are a genuine racer.” Genuine? I spy an unhealthy suspension of disbelief. That synthesised sound and the delusions it encourages seems typical of the inauthenticity of this two-seater Mini JCW GP. Its insincerity puts it in the same bracket as the soup-plate speedometer and the toggle switches inside this car which self-consciously mimic the classic Mini of the Sixties.
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