What sort of Audi is the A1? Here’s a couple of possible scenarios. Number one: a rethinking of the all-aluminium A2, the city car built between 1999 and 2005 and now widely regarded as having been way ahead of its time. Or number two: a rethinking of the Audi 50, the mid-’70s supermini built by VW (it went on to become the Polo) that Audi has conveniently swept under the carpet.

But how about a third, one that has nothing to do with plundering the back catalogue? Audi’s Mini. Suitably succinct, you’ve got to admit, and most definitely Audi’s preferred scenario, encapsulating everything the A1 claims to represent: quality, image, driver appeal, individuality.

The A1 needs to nail this one or it opens itself up to the charge that it is indeed little more than a latter-day 50. Why? Because underneath you won’t find aluminium underpinnings, but a conventional steel structure – and a familiar one at that, the VW Polo’s.

Audi has tried hard to disguise the fact, of course – the A1’s proportions don’t have the same tall, upright family feel as the Polo, Fabia and Ibiza. It looks lower and wider, and uses details such as the overhanging rear lights to distance itself from the rest of the family. The overall effect? Not retro, but hardly radical. And those silver roof-arches are optional. This is important because, just as with the R8’s sideblades, the A1 looks far too plain without them, rather A3-ish in fact. Unsurprisingly, every car on the launch has those silver side-rails. Even so, its reception from the local population is muted at best.

We make a dash from the airport in search of good roads. This is largely futile as the landscape around Berlin is flatter than England’s World Cup performance and the scenery about as inspirational. Featureless roads run in straight lines through fields and forests, but they do at least provide a proper workout for the engine – if only because with 120bhp it’s not exactly the last word in potency. Except that it is – this being the most powerful A1 announced so far.

The 1.4 TFSI is aimed squarely at the Mini Cooper, and because it’s turbocharged it offers a fair whack more torque (147lb ft versus 118). A claimed 0-60mph of 8.9sec is respectable enough and the A1 feels good for it too (despite the steel chassis, at 1125kg it’s commendably lissome). The engine is sewing-machine smooth and picks up nicely through the mid-range, but it’s disappointing to find that it’s done its best work by 5000rpm, tailing off noticeably from there to the 6000rpm red line.

It’s indicative of the fact that this engine has been designed to achieve emissions targets rather than outright pace. Despite a slick, clean manual gearbox (or the £1420 seven-speed DSG if you’re so inclined) it’s just a bit dull to use. But then so’s the whole car.

Surely driver appeal should be a crucial facet of a model like this? Yet Audi has been content to make the A1 just another sensible, refined, genteel supermini. Where’s the fun in that? If there’s one ray of sunshine, it’s that the chassis balance is good. Lift off mid-corner and you can feel the weight transfer forwards, giving grip to the front, removing it progressively from the back. Lob it in hard enough and you might even need a snatch of opposite lock.

But you’re never really encouraged by the chassis to be this adventurous. The light steering is devoid of feel and any handling edge has been rounded off, resulting in a curiously dispassionate product that’s most content when exhibiting its quiet cruising ability.

Although I have reservations about how the A1 handles expansion joints and urban road furniture, plus the excessive suspension bounce at the rear, for the most part it has a polished ride. But what I can’t get out of my head is the feeling that money has been spent on the touch-and-feel stuff rather than used to nail the trickier dynamic aspects.

This is Audi sticking to what it knows – and, let’s face it, doing it very well. No other supermini comes close to being as well built as the A1; it’s a gorgeous, desirable little thing inside, the design a cross between the A4 and TT. Yet as we’ve come to expect from the rest of the car, it’s hardly an exuberant cabin and design flair is thin on the ground.

Of course, the A1 will be a massive success. The four rings have undeniable cachet and it arrives at a time when some Mini owners are probably starting to get a bit bored and are looking out for the next big thing. It’s just a shame that the A1 is a car more hyped than worthy of hyperbole.