Mini Cooper VS Citroen C3

This is a Mini. But it’s the roomiest one ever without back doors.

Drop yourself inside one and you’ll be struck by the sheer change going on. Retro familiarity dominated by brash innovation.

Yes, it still has comparatively upright pillars, a centrally-sited circular display and a row of toggle switches within an otherwise sparse fascia, but that’s where the similarities between classic-old and brand-new cease.

All eyes are drawn to the modest 240mm (9.4-inch) central OLED display, which seems overwhelmingly busy at first glance, but becomes clear in design, intuitive in layout and functional to use in no time. BMW’s experience here is industry-leading.

The Mini deploys bright colours and fun symbols to further help operators know what does what, where and why, making this playful and sophisticated in execution. If only all screen-based multimedia and vehicle settings were this logical. So much so, in fact, that even a limited number of toggle switches, alongside the welcome volume knob and gear selector, are enough. You won’t miss them.

Now, the driving position is first class as you might expect, with that sitting-upright-in-a-box-with-plenty-of-glass-all-round-you sensation that’s been part of the Mini experience for decades. And, in Favoured guise, the JCW buckets are superb.

The small, low-placed wheel feels right, forward vision is excellent, nothing is too much of a stretch away, storage is generous for a car this size (with a largish glove box included) and ventilation proved to be reassuringly effective in the Baltic-esque conditions we tested the car in.

Of course, being a Mini, the Cooper boasts personalisation and customisation galore, including for some compelling screen backgrounds (one reminiscent of the Morris era) and the inevitable ambient lighting, while the standard, synthetic trim and textures are amongst the most interesting in any car. And it’s all really well put together in terms of aesthetics and build quality.

What’s not to like?

Well, for starters, the glass roof lacks a cover and that’s daft in Australia. Even on a freezing Melbourne day, the sun’s glare can be too much. The side pillars are a blind spot hazard, making those standard lane-support driver-assist safety alerts essential, so don’t disable them. The between-seat cubby feels flimsy and has a lid facing the wrong way from the driver - that’s just plain lazy, BMW. And we’re glad the head-up display directly ahead of the driver is included because the digital speedo in the centre screen strays too far from some drivers’ comfortable sight lines.

Now, there’s no point complaining about the four-person Cooper 3dr’s rear seat packaging, as there’s a massive hint in this car’s name.

But while there’s sufficient room for two larger people, the two fixed positions are best for kids only. Their backrests are a tad too upright for adult comfort. There are basically no amenities present and the side windows do not crack open. Have carmakers forgotten how? Bare and basic sums it up back there. Oh, and entry/egress is impeded by painfully slow-moving electric front seats and narrow apertures to squeeze through.

Finally, there’s the cargo area, which mirrors the previous versions with a volume of just 210 litres (VDA), rising to about 800L with the 60/40 twin backrests folded. You don’t buy a Mini for practicality. And while there’s hidden storage, no spare wheel exists, remember. Just a fiddly tyre repair kit.

Still, the Cooper’s overall cabin execution is ultra-fresh yet still reassuringly on-brand, with enough interesting new details and technologies to justify updating from an older model. An inside job well done.

At a fraction under 4.0m long, just over 1.8m wide, and close to 1.5m tall, the C3 is a small hatch that, in terms of practicality, does well in some areas and could do better in others.

On the plus side, there’s plenty of space for the driver and front seat passenger, and rear room is surprisingly generous. Sitting behind the driver’s seat, set for my 183cm position, I had more than adequate head, leg and knee room.

Three full-size adults across the rear is a short-journey proposition only, but a trio of up to mid-teenage kids will be fine.

The space-efficiency carries over to the boot, with 300 litres of volume available (below the parcel shelf) with the 60/40 split-folding rear seat upright. But beyond that number, the space has been carefully sculpted to maximise usability.

We managed to fit our three-piece (36L, 95L, 124L) luggage set in there, with a small cheat of removing the divider, and could swap them out for the bulky CarsGuide pram, with room to spare. Fold the rear backrest down and available space increases to an impressive 922 litres.

The downside is storage and concessions to comfort elsewhere in the car. As in, a lack of them.

For a start, the dual cupholders in the front centre console confirm the French’s affection for Espresso. You’ll struggle to locate an average size take-away coffee cup in one of those dainty receptacles.

The front door bins are long but relatively narrow, and lack a designated spot to hold bottles upright, so I found myself laying drink bottles horizontally along them, which is awkward.

Plus, there’s no lidded storage box between the front seats, so no centre armrest, either. Rather an open tray behind the handbrake lever.

The glove box is modest, there’s a small open cubby below the central multimedia screen that isn’t big enough to hold a phone, there’s just one USB-A port for connectivity/power and a single 12V outlet.

No fold-down centre armrest in the rear, either. There are map pockets on the front seat backs, a single (again, small) cupholder at the end of the front centre console for back-seaters to share, and while rear door pockets are welcome, they’re petite.

Yes, the boot is commodious, but it lacks tie-down anchors to secure loose loads, and the flimsy carpet in there is prone to moving around.

On a more positive note, the spare is a 15-inch space-saver, which is streets ahead of the all-too common inflator/repair kit.