Mini Cooper S - long-term review

Yes, the Mini had only been in my possession for a matter of hours when I set about it with a toolkit. And sorry to kick off with a grumble, but this is something that ought to have been sorted from the factory.

A factory which is in Oxford. The heart of England where – last time I checked – we drive on the left-hand side of the road, and thus the driving seat is on the right-hand side of the car.

This brings me to the centre console design of the new Mini. Freed from having to package any pesky manual transmission (now all Minis are either electric or automatic) the designers came up with a cutesie clutch bag that’s fixed to the central spar between the seats. Pull its fabric tab – like the lightweight handle in a Porsche GT3 RS – and the lid clicks (a bit cheaply) open to reveal a space big enough for sunglasses or most smartphones.

The lid doesn’t fit tightly, which means you can trail a charging lead into the teeny chest, without worrying it’s going to crimp your cable. A nice touch, especially as the wireless charging pad at the foot of the console is absolute rubbish. No sooner is my phone strapped in, the screen is bombarding me with pop-up warnings that ‘low power charging’ is enabled because there’s a ‘foreign object in charging area’. No, that’s my phone.

Back to the clutch bag. It’s fine, except it’s been set for left-hand drive. The hinged lid opened to the right, meaning I couldn’t actually see the inside of it. I’ve checked every new Mini I’ve seen recently and yep, all the same.

So, out came the rubber insert, then two hex screws, and in a matter of seconds I’d spun the cubbyhole round and fixed it back down. It fits just as happily either way, which leads me to think it’s designed to be screwed in either orientation but someone on the production line hasn’t been getting the memo.

Anyway, no biggie. And what’s more, I’m getting along with the sparse interior better than expected. Browsing photos of old Mini interiors (from 1959) the other day, I was struck by how elegantly the new version copies the old dashboard, which featured a central speedo, a row of toggle switches and a key barrel.

The new one turns the toggle switches into the mode, okay, ‘Experiences’ switch and gear selector, flanked by volume and ‘Park’ buttons, and the old cat’s tongue starter switch has been replaced by a twister which is a bit more kitsch and cool than a start/stop button might’ve been.

I’m not sold on the rough netting covering the dash and door tops, but worrying it’s going to fill up with dust and detritus does mean I’m now much more prone to moisturising. There you go. Unexpected boon of Mini ownership, number one: softer, more supple skin.