The term ‘supermini’ was first coined in the mid 80′s, and was applied to the Ford Fiestas, VW Polos and Austin Metros of the day. It intended to describe a small, practical car, larger than the likes of the real classic Mini and Fiat 500′s of the day, but smaller than what could be more broadly termed as a ‘small family car’ (eg. a VW Golf or Ford Escort).

As automotive technology has moved on, cars have gotten safer and more reliable, but all the extra fluffy bits have made cars heavier and larger. This weight gain has meant that modern superminis are quite a bit larger than their 20 year old counterparts. As the cars get bigger, manufacturers struggle to make the cars ‘fit’ the Supermini label. Indeed, BMW’s relaunched modern Mini now falls into this Supermini label, despite the name actually referring to a small car ‘larger than a Mini’.

These days, the ‘Supermini’ moniker is applied to an exceptionally wide band of vehicles – some of which are neither super, nor mini – no doubt due to the fact that Supermini sales make up the largest chunk of new cars sold every year in Europe. Because of this, car makers are forever dreaming up new market segments of vehicle types, and this brings us to the curious beast that is the Fiat ‘Grande’ Punto.

The regular, semi-skimmed, Fiat Punto is a three or five door small hatchback in the traditional ‘supermini’ mode – available with a range of tiny tin-pot engines ideally suited for pootling around town. With the full-fat Grande model, Fiat have taken the original car, and stretched the back out a bit. It’s a regular Punto, but with a bit more room in the back. There’s some styling changes, but essentially, they’re the same car, just one’s a bit longer.

The ‘Grande’ Punto is in a curious niche – too big to be a supermini, but too small to line up with a Golf, Focus or Civic. I’m struggling to think of what market it tries to fill.

As for the car itself, it’s fairly well appointed internally – the fit and feel of the plastics and materials used is of a good quality – certainly better than I was expecting. I’ve no idea how far up the model range the car I had was (all I knew was that it was a 1.2), but it was fitted with alloy wheels, CD player and electric windows and mirrors, and steering-wheel controls. The electronic windows lack the ‘one touch’ operation of most modern cars – allowing you to roll up or down the windows without having to hold your finger on the switch until fully open/closed. I found this quite annoying.

The car also featured variable speed power steering, which was activated by pressing a button on the centre console. This puts the steering into ‘CITY’ mode, which I guess is to help people with absolutely no lower arm movement to park the vehicle – the regular power steering was more than competent, and enabling this ‘CITY’ mode just seemed pointless to me.

Speaking of parking – the Grande isn’t going to be much use to you if you’re not a confident reverse-parker. Visibility is, for a car with such large windows and a slightly elevated driving position, frankly – crap. You can’t see where the bonnet even starts, nor is it easy to make out what’s going on behind. Other niggles were found in the general controls of the vehicle – all the buttons and switches (radio, electric windows, heating controls) all seemed to be just that tiny bit just out of your reach.

I’m quite worried, nay! – petrified – by the inexplicable button on the steering wheel which looks frighteningly akin to the Microsoft Windows logo. I pressed this and the stereo went off and its display said ‘VOICE’. I have no idea what this button does. Frankly, I’m scared that I pressed it.

Another annoyance is that there’s no boot handle – this is something that slightly bothers me on the RX8, but significantly less-so, as the RX8 key has a button on the remote that will pop the boot for you whenever you like. In the Punto, you’ve got to climb back into the car and press a bloody button in the middle of the centre console to open the boot. I can see that getting annoying real quick.

On the other hand – it’s an exceptionally cheap new car – about eight grand on the road, if you do some haggling. Shortcomings aside, similar offerings from the likes of VW, Ford and Vauxhall are well over a grand more.

So, there you have it. If you’re feeling frisky, spank 8000 quid on a Fiat – however, whatever you do don’t ever, ever, ever, EVER buy one from the GK Group (Mazda, Ford, Fiat, Seat, Peugeot, Citroen) in the North Midlands and Yorkshire. In fact, don’t buy anything from them, or have your car worked on there. Mark my words.

Now, this shower of steaming piss have caused me nothing but consternation and grief ever since the day I signed the papers on my RX8 in July (I won’t go into specifics here, but one problem as an example – I bought the car in July but didn’t actually get it on my driveway until August). As I’ve said before, they dented my car when it was last in for its starting problem – today was supposed to be when they’d sort the dent, and fix the starting problem.

Not so. Today would be the day that they’d shrug their collective shoulders and deliver two pieces of bad news to me.

One. Yes – I was right, as was the first Mazda Assist engineer, and the second Mazda Assist engineer, the battery is fucked. I had told them this two weeks ago when the car first went in, and when I picked the car up (dent day) they’d assured me that they’d replaced it, and everything would be hunky dory.

However, it works out that, no, there was a mistake – they didn’t replace it at all – in fact they wouldn’t replace it as it’s a consumable item – like tyres or brake pads – and isn’t covered by any warranty. No amount of explaining that I’d only bought the car 6 months ago would cut it. No dice. If wanted a new battery, I’d have to pay the princely sum of £124 (£60-odd for the battery, £40-odd for fitting, plus Alistair Darling’s 17.5% cut) for one. As I rely on the car and need (and indeed, expect) it to work when I turn the key, I agree to this – I’m fully intending to bring this up with the Chesterfield branch who sold me the car.

Two. The dent. No, no, no sir – that dent can’t possibly have happened whilst the car was in our care. O RLY? I must’ve done it myself on the way up to the garage then, or I might just be making the whole thing up for shits and giggles. They refuse to claim any kind of liability for the dent, and won’t cover the cost of any repairs. They claim that their technician noted the dent when he first started working on the car.

Cue much, much loud heating argumentation between myself and the service manager. I certainly hope I put off any potential buyers in the showroom. I ask for the branch manager, who agrees somewhat hesitantly to speak to me.

The manager is equally unsympathetic, and actually offers me his opinion on what’s happened – he claims that they’d had the car up on the ramps in the workshop to inspect this dent, and claim that the marks are typical of the impact of a shopping trolley! My protestations that no such mark was present at 8.30am on the day I took the car to the garage, but was there at 6pm when I picked it up again, were met with the same repeated spiel. It all boils down to my word against theirs, and neither side will back down.

The ‘best’ he can do, he claims, is to get his detailing specialist to have a look at it when he’s next on site – and he’d very generously charge me the ‘trade rate’ for any detailing done. Gee – how thoughtful of him!

A complete, and utter shower of bastards, these lot. My only advice is to avoid the entire chain like the plague.

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