# data.attributes.title
MG Cyberster - long-term review - Report No:3

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
MG Cyberster - long-term review - Report No:3 | Top Gear

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Soft-top two-seaters are designed for Sunday morning blasts – can this new-age MG deliver?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
MG Cyberster - long-term review - Report No:3

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Soft-top two-seaters are designed for Sunday morning blasts – can this new-age MG deliver?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Soft-top two-seaters are designed for Sunday morning blasts – can this new-age MG deliver?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
MG Cyberster - long-term review - Report No:3

# data.attributes.body.value
What even is a ‘sports car’? I only ask because most of the cars that fit the accepted person-in-the-street definition aren’t in fact sporty at all.

Traditionally, a sports car was low to the ground, had two doors, two seats and probably an open roof. It had a powerful engine. And its top priority was driving dynamics. That’s as close as you’ll get to a quantifiable declaration of sportiness.

But is a current BMW Z4 a sports car? Was the Mercedes SLC/SLK? Don’t be daft. I’ve heard convincing arguments that the Mazda MX-5 is too limp in the engine department and too roly-poly in the corners to really be a sports car. I choose to ignore them because I adore the current MX-5, but I sort of get their point.

So, the Cyberster. It’s got skin in the game here: the MGB, MGF and MG SV were all sports cars, of varying sorts. Does it do the business?

Dynamically, it’s a bit of a pudding. An MG engineer told me the car’s been softened off again from its original European spec: they felt they’d overdone the ‘stiffen it up for those aggressive-driving, B-road warrior Brits’ and had to smooth the edges back off because “it’s not supposed to be a track car".

For me, they slightly overdid it, allowing too much wallow into the suspension. There’s a sense of top-heaviness to the car, some of which comes from the too-high driver’s seat, and some of which is down to the restless damping, which never settles in one assured movement after it’s been disturbed.

The steering is dead: a pity as I’d hoped going for the RWD ‘Trophy’ model would liberate the steering of corruption from the front motor in the ‘GT’ and unlock a bit of road feel. Not to be, I’m afraid: it’s computer game stuff, without Forza’s handy re-wind feature.

Better news with the brakes: the re-gen feel is far from the worst out there and flipping the left paddle to dial up and down the re-gen eventually gets intuitive. Personally I’d have made it left paddle for less re-gen, right paddle for more retardation, and then left switching modes to the big red ‘SUPER SPORT’ button on the steering wheel. Most of the time it sits there redundant and I’m triple-clicking the paddle to get the re-gen back to where I want it. But it’s a small gripe.

So, a mixed bag for the Cyberster’s handling. Plenty of urgency, a slightly doughy chassis, and not much sensation through the controls to leave you relishing a B-road hoon. Not a sports car, then.

And yet… there is a side to this car that’s unexpectedly, hilariously good fun. And it’s surprisingly easy to access. Don’t worry about Comfort/Sport/Custom/Super Sport mode. Forget the re-gen settings. Just find a quiet, ideally slightly greasy lane, delve onto the central touchscreen, and turn off the ESP.

This is old-school ESP, just as the beardy MG folk would like it. No halfway house ‘dynamic plus’ setting here. Turn it off with a swipe, and you’re on your own immediately. Sort of.

This is indeed old-school ESP, in that it behaves like one of those endearingly clueless Mercedes systems from the Nineties. It’s fully off, until it realises to its horror you’re about to have a plane crash. So it kills the power completely.

With practice, you can trick the Cyberster into adopting some fairly silly angles before the electronic killjoys gather everything back up into a straight line. It’s not an exact science, but if you can keep the counter-steer in check it’ll get properly crossed up. And the burnouts are spectacular. Proper fifty-yard elevens, snaking up the road, from a meek lil’ silent EV. When the Cyberster grows up, it wants to be a Dodge Demon.

I’ve resisted temptation to make ‘ESP off’ part of my daily start-up routine, along with the lane keep assist and speed bong deactivation. Not because the MG isn’t fun to drive. Despite its slightly clumsy behaviour, it’s actually a giggle. Yes, it’s a bit scruffy, but it certainly makes a change from EVs having about as much personality as a supermarket self-checkout.

I just can’t afford to chew through each of the £250 Pirelli P-Zero ‘Elect’ EV-specialised rear tyres as quickly as all that instant torque will let me.

# data.attributes.body.processed
What even is a ‘sports car’? I only ask because most of the cars that fit the accepted person-in-the-street definition aren’t in fact sporty at all.

Traditionally, a sports car was low to the ground, had two doors, two seats and probably an open roof. It had a powerful engine. And its top priority was driving dynamics. That’s as close as you’ll get to a quantifiable declaration of sportiness.

But is a current BMW Z4 a sports car? Was the Mercedes SLC/SLK? Don’t be daft. I’ve heard convincing arguments that the Mazda MX-5 is too limp in the engine department and too roly-poly in the corners to really be a sports car. I choose to ignore them because I adore the current MX-5, but I sort of get their point.

So, the Cyberster. It’s got skin in the game here: the MGB, MGF and MG SV were all sports cars, of varying sorts. Does it do the business?

Dynamically, it’s a bit of a pudding. An MG engineer told me the car’s been softened off again from its original European spec: they felt they’d overdone the ‘stiffen it up for those aggressive-driving, B-road warrior Brits’ and had to smooth the edges back off because “it’s not supposed to be a track car".

For me, they slightly overdid it, allowing too much wallow into the suspension. There’s a sense of top-heaviness to the car, some of which comes from the too-high driver’s seat, and some of which is down to the restless damping, which never settles in one assured movement after it’s been disturbed.

The steering is dead: a pity as I’d hoped going for the RWD ‘Trophy’ model would liberate the steering of corruption from the front motor in the ‘GT’ and unlock a bit of road feel. Not to be, I’m afraid: it’s computer game stuff, without Forza’s handy re-wind feature.

Better news with the brakes: the re-gen feel is far from the worst out there and flipping the left paddle to dial up and down the re-gen eventually gets intuitive. Personally I’d have made it left paddle for less re-gen, right paddle for more retardation, and then left switching modes to the big red ‘SUPER SPORT’ button on the steering wheel. Most of the time it sits there redundant and I’m triple-clicking the paddle to get the re-gen back to where I want it. But it’s a small gripe.

So, a mixed bag for the Cyberster’s handling. Plenty of urgency, a slightly doughy chassis, and not much sensation through the controls to leave you relishing a B-road hoon. Not a sports car, then.

And yet… there is a side to this car that’s unexpectedly, hilariously good fun. And it’s surprisingly easy to access. Don’t worry about Comfort/Sport/Custom/Super Sport mode. Forget the re-gen settings. Just find a quiet, ideally slightly greasy lane, delve onto the central touchscreen, and turn off the ESP.

This is old-school ESP, just as the beardy MG folk would like it. No halfway house ‘dynamic plus’ setting here. Turn it off with a swipe, and you’re on your own immediately. Sort of.

This is indeed old-school ESP, in that it behaves like one of those endearingly clueless Mercedes systems from the Nineties. It’s fully off, until it realises to its horror you’re about to have a plane crash. So it kills the power completely.

With practice, you can trick the Cyberster into adopting some fairly silly angles before the electronic killjoys gather everything back up into a straight line. It’s not an exact science, but if you can keep the counter-steer in check it’ll get properly crossed up. And the burnouts are spectacular. Proper fifty-yard elevens, snaking up the road, from a meek lil’ silent EV. When the Cyberster grows up, it wants to be a Dodge Demon.

I’ve resisted temptation to make ‘ESP off’ part of my daily start-up routine, along with the lane keep assist and speed bong deactivation. Not because the MG isn’t fun to drive. Despite its slightly clumsy behaviour, it’s actually a giggle. Yes, it’s a bit scruffy, but it certainly makes a change from EVs having about as much personality as a supermarket self-checkout.

I just can’t afford to chew through each of the £250 Pirelli P-Zero ‘Elect’ EV-specialised rear tyres as quickly as all that instant torque will let me.

# data.attributes.field_cars_group_v2.derivative_name
250KW Trophy Single Motor 77 KWH 2DR Auto

# data.attributes.field_car_claimed_mpg
4.2 miles per kWh, 250 miles, 0g/km CO2 

# data.attributes.field_car_headline
Does the MG Cyberster live up to the promise of an electric sport car?

# data.attributes.field_car_teaser_description
Soft-top two-seaters are designed for Sunday morning blasts – can this new-age MG deliver?

# data.attributes.field_sub_title
Does the MG Cyberster live up to the promise of an electric sport car?

# data.relationships.field_cars_group.data.meta.links.help.meta.about
Usage and meaning of the 'virtual' resource identifier.