Mini The Brand and Mini The Car are not the same thing, of course. Arguments will continue over just how much initial Rover development is wrapped up in the final product ΂- that BMW can price it so competitively suggests quite a bit ΂- but let's not be under any illusions, here. Mini was a hook for BMW to hang its first front-drive baby car on. It is not the car that Rover, given a free hand, would have produced as a sequel to the original. Sold from BMW showrooms, remember. This is a classless car no more.

None of which should concern us unduly now. The hype will rumble on for a while yet, but new Mini has already shown itself to be extraordinary in the best sense. It brings assets to the price point that are unprecedented: exceptional bodyshell integrity, genuine BMW build quality and finish, a dynamic signature unlike anything else currently available and, perhaps the neatest trick of all, pastiche styling that looks startlingly original.

Set new Mini's instant appeal, neon-lit design cues and direct access to emotional threads that reach back over nearly half a century against the swelling hunger for a different kind of chic. Do you think, with a price of ΂£10,300, vanilla-flavoured new Mini will fail? About as remote as the Voyager space probe, I'd say.

So let's ask a different question. Can the new ΂£11,600 Mini Cooper ΂- owner of a tailgate, of course ΂- home into the hot hatch bullseye with a dull, blood-chilling thud? Tougher shot. Just about everyone and his dog has had a go at re-inventing the Mini Cooper in the 'modern idiom'. The Cooper legacy has melted into the contemporary hot hatch genre. It's what tin-top tiddler turn-in is judged by. The rules for nip 'n' tuck bear the Mini's monicker. And if you've never driven the diminutive old timer, your credentials for talking about nimbleness are threadbare.

Volkswagen's ΂£12,995 Lupo GTI tries least hard to disguise its Cooperesque inclinations. Crucially, it is genuinely small where the new Mini challenges the eye to make sense of a look that screams 'tiny' stretched over a frame about as long as a Peugeot 106's but somewhat wider. The Lupo's blend of cuteness and aggression ΂- an area in which the old Mini excelled ΂- is spot on, too. Cuddly with claws. Order the list any way you want, the signifiers read perfectly: 125bhp, 978kg, 205-section tyres, twin centre-sited exhaust, Xenon lights. This is Kit with a kapital K.

You can draw up an even longer list of take-me-now features for new Mini, of course ΂- this side of an Audi TT, we can't think of another car that packs so much design jewellery into such a compact space ΂- but the 113bhp and 1050kg don't exactly pin your eyes to the page. On the other hand, our car's optional 'Chili' pack grows the wheels from 15 to 16 inches and stiffens the suspension, promising still more grip and response from that already uncommonly broad wheel-at-each-corner stance.

Parked next to the Mini, the Fiat Punto looks even taller and narrower than it usually does. But no less achingly pretty. This is the new Abarth version of the range-topping HGT and Fiat's advertising is happy to talk about it as a 'monster on the loose' with no hint of irony. In truth, Punto hasn't done 'hot hatch' too successfully so far and it definitely doesn't do 'monster'. Squaring off the chin spoiler, sticking Abarth badges to the side-skirts, kick-plates and aluminium gearknob and limiting the colour choice to black or yellow is hardly likely to have people running for cover. Then again, the 130bhp developed by its 1.8-litre 16-valve motor is, by a fairly breezy margin, the toughest fight faced by any set of front tyres here and, weighing a modest enough 1040kg, the Punto's 127bhp per ton power/weight ratio is bested only by the 128bhp/ton of the Peugeot 106 GTi (which weighs just 950kg).

The pert Pug, of course, is the Mini's natural nemesis. So unconcerned is it with fashion and designerish details that it's the only car in the group with olde-worlde ribbed headlight lenses. Heinous. Moreover, its interior is as plasticky as a day in Legoland and the standard of fit and finish every bit as ordinary as the Mini's is special. But it says 'GTI' on the tin in bright red letters and that's exactly what the 106 is ΂- purely, simply and supremely. Only three things really matter. It's very light, it's powered by a 120bhp 16-valve engine with more fizz than Tango and its suspension encapsulates the sum of Peugeot's considerable knowledge in the field of handling. This car is so focused it's almost on fire.

Merely to find some sporting definition is what Toyota sought with the T Sport version of its otherwise 'funkily sensible' Yaris. Especially as the lamentably tepid SR drew a blank. At ΂£11,995, the T Sport and 106 are the only rivals that can claim anything like price parity with the Mini and, although hardly in its first flush of youth, the Yaris still packs plenty of interest and ingenuity into its high-roofed, well-packaged cabin. But, with just 105bhp to push along the promisingly trim 960kg kerb weight, it's hard to avoid the impression that Toyota has yet to firmly grasp the hot hatch nettle. It's a bit like appointing Nicky Clark as tour hair stylist for Limp Bizkit. Can 'nice' really do 'nasty'? A question mark hangs over its credibility.

But all such questions are about to be answered. We've repaired to the heart of the Dales for a little peace, tranquility and toe-down therapy. In fact, let's deal with that first. Quickest car between two bends? The Peugeot without a doubt: its 0-60mph time of 7.4secs takes more than half a second out of the next quickest car, the Punto (8.0secs).

A similar gap leads us to the Lupo, at 8.6secs, yet another to the Mini, at 9.0secs and another to the Yaris (9.4secs). On the road, the Toyota's performance feels comfortably the mildest, probably because its engine is the least revvy and sounds the most ordinary.

For a more elaborate take on the accelerative abilities of the group, see what happened at MIRA. The bottom line in the Dales is that only the Yaris struggles to keep up with the convoy on the most demanding sections. But this isn't just lack of puff. Or that the Toyota's tall, upright driving position abjectly fails to hit the right 'press-on' buttons. At least you can rely on the seats to hold you in place and the light (but curiously unconnected) gearchange to slice swiftly between slots. No, the T Sport hits the buffers with a chassis that simply isn't up to the demands of a sustained strop. Its steering is light and feel-less, it scrabbles for traction out of tight turns, body roll at fighting speed is substantial, and the grip generated by its 185/55 Bridgestone tyres gives out surprisingly early ΂- albeit in a benign, nose-led fashion, and ride quality is more than reasonable, too. But it's all a bit wasted on brakes which are as good as any in the group: very powerful, hard to fade, meaty pedal action.

The Punto Abarth should be blessed with such anchors. Its own brakes do all right but fade early and aren't nearly as impressive as the hefty straight-line push. Good engine, this: smooth and free-revving with oodles of mid-range muscle. Sweet snickety-snick gearchange, too. And, apart from the ghastly two-tone steering wheel, cabin architecture/ambience is right on the money with great seats and driving position, fine ergonomics, clear instruments and brilliantly thought-out stowage arrangements. Its form-follows-function approach is the diametric opposite of the Mini's image-led initiative.

The Abarth's chassis isn't without talent, either. Witness its Mini-humbling slalom display at MIRA (the Mini was hot favourite for this discipline). You'd never guess it from the way it feels on more regular bumpy and rutted tarmac, though. Typical Dales fare often seems to overwhelm the Fiat, its ever-fidgety ride lapsing into wholesale raggedness whenever a combination of genuine pace and a change of direction are required simultaneously. In the Punto's defence, it isn't quite the handful the Yaris is on the limit and its gutsy motor papers- over its chassis' shortcomings to the extent that not even the 106 can pull out a lead point-to-point. But, boy, is it hard work.

Leap into the Lupo, wipe the sweat from your palms and you can begin to appreciate the meaning of poise again. Everything about the baby VW ΂- apart from the slightly wooden steering feel ΂- is measured and slick. Not least the way it's put together. If you want Mini-standard build and finish but without the spotlight fashion statement interior gestures, the Lupo's more subtle (but still characterful) architecture might just persuade you. Amazingly, there isn't even that much difference between the two for rear seat room ΂- a telling indictment of the Mini's poor packaging.

Indeed it's the evenness of the Lupo's talents that serves it so well. Its engine isn't quite in the Peugeot's firecracker class or as lusty as the Punto's but it shames the Mini's for bite, top-end smoothness and sonic sportiness and is perfectly complemented by a snappy, short-throw gearshift. Agility might be expected given the stubby wheelbase but it's the fluency and composure of its execution that lifts the Lupo clear of the Punto and Yaris. Traction and grip are excellent, the steering (if a little numb) well weighted and precise, balance on the limit remarkably neutral. Even ride quality is decent, though brake feel is a little soft despite good power and progression.
But good as the Lupo is, it isn't really in the same race as the 106 GTI and Mini Cooper. Our hunch that it would come down to this pair hasn't been misplaced. For the first time in its five-year career the Peugeot has been brought up short by a newcomer, and it has started to feel its age too, particularly in presentation.

The Mini isn't as good as it should be. Far from it. BMW's conceit in giving it packaging unworthy of the name is audacious to say the least. And that Brazilian-built 1.6 is neither powerful nor charismatic enough to live with what the best of the opposition has to offer. The pimply-surfaced seats that come with the Chili pack aren't half as comfortable or supportive to sit on as they are to look at. And that rev counter pod that sits on the steering column is partially obscured by the overly chunky rim of the wheel. Apart from anything else, it simply doesn't feel very 'Mini'.

And then you start to drive it. And shut the doors a couple of times. And run your fingers over the paintwork. And look closely at the fit and finish. Then you realise the Mini is unlike any supermini you've ever driven. And, for the most part, a whole lot better.

First, there's the steering. It guides the Mini with a level of directness and accuracy that simply takes your breath away. By comparison, every other car in the group feels as if it's taken an overdose of tranquilisers. Then there's the integrity of the body. It doesn't flex, it allows the suspension to be tautly controlled without introducing any harshness to the ride which, in turn, reduces body roll and increases grip. The Mini has shedloads, especially at the front. It means that, wherever you point it, it goes with the maximum of fidelity and the minimum of fuss. True, there isn't attitude adjustability in the sense that the 106 has attitude adjustability, and when the grip does eventually run out it tends to do so all of a sudden. But there is the kind of composure and precision that no other supermini has or ever had. Driving the new Mini is truly a new experience.

The Pug's primary weapon, of course, is fun. It feels smaller and more handy than the Mini. Its steering isn't as alive to small initial inputs but, with some lock wound on, it's a miracle of lucidity and transparency. And whereas you have to relax behind the wheel of the Mini and be very literal with your hand inputs if you're not to over-drive it, the 106 positively relishes being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrashed to within an inch of its life. It doesn't seem to matter how extreme you get with it, how ludicrous the liberties you take on the edge of adhesion, it always seems to have a few tricks in reserve that will pull you through. The harder you drive the Peugeot, the better it gets. The tirelessly crazy-to-rev engine, the gymnastic chassis, the lightning gearshift, the stonky brakes ΂- all conspire to give you the best of times if you're in the mood for a serious blast.

The Mini can't quite scale the same heights. The reason it wins this test is that it doesn't have to. It makes you feel good every second you spend with it.