Pixelthing.

One of the first things you notice is how high you sit in the Fiat 500. It feels quite SUV-like, although again you must consider that I’ve spent four years with my bum on the floor in a Smart Roadster, so it is sort of relative.

I’ve figured out the digital media player, and the controls are a bit fiddly, but no more so than many mobile phones. A surprise is the voice controls – which do help if you don’t get embarrassed by talking to a car again and again – but I still get “Call failed” when I try to use the hands free to call someone, although I’m sure it’s something simple I’m missing. It could even be that the reception around Highgate is rubbish.

The air-con is alright – every review of the car I’ve seen has the optional “climate control” package, but the standard stuff has nice chunky plastic rotary “tonka toy” style controls which I rather like.

For once, I can’t wait to have a few long drives up and down from Portsmouth to Highgate, to get used to it all. The turbo shove is quite intoxicating, although with a light foot it’s a pussy cat around town.  You need to keep the turbo spun-up to get the most out of it, but in normal traffic that’s just plain reckless, so I’ll be a good boy for the foreseeable, just squeezing it to get a kick now and then.

The grip is fantastic, chucking it into roundabouts under power gives you understeer of course, but it never feels like the horses are running away from the carriage. Hoofing away from a stand-still gives a little scrabble, then the tyres plant the road and you’re thrown forward. But that’s all just boy-racer stuff. On regular roads you know exactly how big a gap you can go for, the knowledge that the throttle can get you out of trouble if you need to is enough and the brakes pull you up with no fuss. It’s great fun.

And for a jumped up shopping trolley, it doesn’t half get noticed. People are still looking at Fiat 500s as cute and a bit new, but one with chunky spoilers and stripes turns the odd head – men and women. Amongst a sea of Minis in London, the Abarth is not for the shrinking violet. I can’t say I’m normally an extrovert, but after the Smart Roadster and the Honda Beat, I’m used to being a bit disappointed if no-one at all turns a head over the course of a journey. So this little car seems to be right at my level – people look interested, but don’t appear to mouth the word “tosser” back at me – or at least I hope.

Sitting in the back seat is interesting – it’s really tight – anything over 5ft 9″ will require a bit of a slouch in the seat to fit your head in. The headlining drops towards the back – possibly for the high-level brake light, but you wonder if a little bit of extra design time could have given an inch extra there. Legroom is small, but the front seats are designed so that the centre back of them is squashy, so it’s not awful. It’s true, it’s not a car for carrying four tallish people on long journeys, but hell, it’s not so bad. It’s a novelty for me to carry two extra people anyway.

And timing being what it is, now I’ve got this uber-toy, I’m off on holiday for a week, so I’m going to have to forget about it for a while. That might not be so bad, by the time I get back, it’ll be new all over again, and I’ll finally have the opportunity to break out of the north-circular stranglehold, and get some air into the engine.

Can’t wait – but I’ll have to.