So, leaving aside the fact that two-thirds of the electricity to power them comes from fossil fuel power stations, we decided to test the front runners’ credentials on a 31-mile journey across London from City airport in the east to Heathrow in the west in Friday afternoon traffic. In case they ran out of charge we asked the RAC to follow us in a rescue truck.

The four electric vehicles on the market are imported by specialists: the £8,299 G-Wiz, the £10,950 Aixam Mega Van, the £9,950 Maranello4 and the Twike, which starts at £15,170. There was to be a fifth, from Modec, but it was withdrawn at the last minute: it was in pieces on the workshop floor, the supplier said.

The concept of a rechargeable, emissions-free vehicle is as old as the milk float and workable versions have been around for years. Sir Clive Sinclair’s C5 had a range of 20 miles and a top speed of 15mph. It was a flop. Makers claim to have increased range and performance with lightweight materials and improved battery technology: those advances mean the electric car is here to stay, they say. Perhaps. The truth is that just as the debate on global warming is hotting up, motor manufacturers are dropping out of the electric car market. Ford’s TH!NK city car was recently discontinued along with Peugeot’s Partner. The electric version of Citroën’s Berlingo was the latest to be unplugged. “We sold 11 in 2005 and 14 in 2004,” said a spokesman.

So what is putting buyers off?

Recharging: it’s fine if you have a garage but if you keep your car on the street it means leaving a power cord through your letterbox for hours, which could attract vandals.

Reliability: battery life for the G-Wiz is estimated at two to four years, depending on usage. The car is covered by a two-year warranty but if the battery fails outside that, it costs £1,200. Twike says its batteries will last for 50,000 miles, with a replacement cost of £3,180-£6,980.

Price: electric cars may be cheap to run but are pricey to buy. The cheapest is £6,999, £400 more than the entry model new VW Fox, which has a top speed of 92mph, has airbags and air-conditioning and has a four-star Euro NCAP rating for both adult and child occupants. Critics say electric cars won’t catch on until they are priced like motorcycles, say £2,000-£3,000.

Nevertheless, with tax incentives and rising fuel prices these drawbacks look less important. So do the latest machines represent a new dawn for the electric car or are they just a repeat of the same mistakes?

I knew I was onto a winner with the G-Wiz from the moment I set eyes on its eager, bug-eyed little face. With its bashful expression, created by two circular orange indicator lights — like a pair of blushing cheeks — the G-Wiz is the McCute of electric cars.

There are almost 500 whirring around the capital, their owners spurred on as much by exemption from the £8 congestion charge (not to mention free parking in some central boroughs), as by any self-sacrificing yen to save the planet.

Manufactured by Reva in Bangalore, India, and distributed in the UK by GoinGreen they are selling at a rate of one a day.

Launched in London in May 2004, the G-Wiz is the UK’s bestselling electric car and boasts Jonathan Ross, Britain’s highest paid TV presenter, as its most famous celebrity endorser.

Ross has a purple one and buyers can choose from a range of 10 standard colours from “rainforest” green to “storm” blue, with leopard, zebra and tigerskin versions expected in the next few weeks. Mine was a Mondeo-worthy black.

Still, it was the superior £8,299 model (now on offer for £7,799 — £800 more than the “no frills” model), with a stereo system, leather seats and, believe it or not, alloy wheels.

Forget luxuries like electric windows, though. The G-Wiz’s windows slide back to open and double as air-conditioning.

To call it a car is an exaggeration. It is classified as a quadracycle by the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency — a four-wheel motorbike under a plastic rain bonnet. It claims to be a four seater, but the back two seats are nothing more than a bench with enough room for a child seat at most. At a pinch, the boot could accommodate a recycled brown paper bag of locally grown organic produce.

The G-Wiz can do “up to” 40 miles on a full charge, which takes six hours. Turn the key, switch a dial on the dashboard from N (neutral) to E (the basic, economy drive mode), press on the accelerator and you’re away. The 4.8kW (equivalent to 17bhp) electric motor climbs to a respectable 30mph surprisingly quickly thanks to its low weight and it had no problem keeping up with the traffic as I left the airport and headed along the main A road into the City.

Surrounded by bankers in their top-down Porsches, BMWs and Mercs, the G-Wiz might look like an escapee from a Disney theme park, but on a busy Friday lunchtime in stop-start traffic it was in its element.

Deciding it was not quite up to motorway speeds, I avoided the M4 and took the less daunting A4 towards Heathrow. Spotting the red Maranello just ahead, I switched into the electric car equivalent of “sport mode”, turning the dial from E for economy to F for “fast”, taking the G-Wiz up to a massive 13.1kW. In relative terms, this felt like an impressive surge of power and the G-Wiz stormed into the lead, hitting its top speed of 40mph.

It can maintain 40mph in this mode without much effort, although the charge will drain more rapidly.

The braking isn’t instant either and it has the side-impact protection of a tea tray.

I pipped the Maranello to the finish line, travelling the 31 miles in 1hr 56min and with enough charge left to travel 10 miles back again. The G-Wiz took a shy bow.

MARANELLO4
Nicholas Rufford

Price: £9,950
Max speed: 30mph
Range: 45 miles
Running cost: 4.5 miles per kWh
Recharge time: Eight hours
Time from City airport to Heathrow: 1hr 58min
Contact: 020 8896 1133 or www.sbsbsb.com

The Maranello4 is the latest electric car to arrive in Britain. It’s built around a stainless steel chassis, has a claimed top speed of 30mph and will cover about 45 miles on a full charge.

The stylish two-seater has been designed by the Italian company Effidi but the battery technology comes from Sakura, a London-based firm that is importing the car.

Sakura is the largest supplier of electric bikes in the UK. It says it has a nationwide network of 150 dealers for back-up and spares.

The car is less than 9ft long but headroom is as good as in most conventional cars and it boasts independent suspension, disc brakes and even a clock. The fact that those are worthy of mention gives you an idea of how spartan electric vehicles are. It’s like sitting in Fisher-Price’s My First Car. A speedo (graduated in kilometres), traction meter and charge meter are the only instruments.

The doors are hinged at the rear and the boot is large enough to store a bicycle (which frankly would be quicker). There is more luggage room under the bonnet. Confusingly, the word “diesel” is stencilled on a filler cap on the side of the car. Underneath is a tiny fuel tank for a diesel-powered cooling system to prevent the 48-volt cells from overheating.

Driving the Maranello across London was relatively pain free, but it wasn’t comfortable. It was the hottest day of the year so far when we did the test and though there’s a cooling system for the batteries there most definitely is not one for the occupants. I practically melted into the vinyl seats.

The Maranello pulls away from the lights at a pace that would rival its Ferrari namesake thanks to its low weight and flat torque curve, which means maximum power is available immediately. There’s no gearchange of course — you just keep your foot on the floor like a dodgem accelerating all the way to, wait for it, 28, 29 . . . 30mph.

On the Hammersmith flyover it had scarcely enough puff to manage 20mph. I had squashed flies on the back windscreen that weren’t able to slow down in time. Annoyingly I was overtaken by a delighted Emma Smith in her ridiculous-looking G-Wiz. In three lanes of traffic, squeezed between an articulated lorry and a pantechnicon, it’s easy to feel intimidated, especially as the body seems to be made out of the same plastic that separates chocolates in Milk Tray boxes.

The car I drove was new but already had a large dent in the rear — the result of being dropped when it came out of the container, according to the Sakura representative. I hate to think what its Euro NCAP score would have been. Minus something.

This car would be fine for a daily commute in heavy traffic. I set off to Heathrow 20 minutes ahead of a Nissan Patrol carrying the Sunday Times’s photographer. Despite my handicap, I arrived 20 minutes before he did.

That’s where electric cars shine — in heavy congestion where stop-start driving is the norm and average speeds don’t exceed 20mph. The charge meter showed the Maranello had enough juice for a full return trip.

In case you’re tempted, the entry-level Star Maranello has adjustable seats, tinted windows and a heater. The Superstar costs £660 more with luxuries such as electric windows and alloy wheels and body-coloured door mirrors.

Page two: Aixam Mega Van and the Twike()AIXAM MEGA VAN
Andrew Frankel

Price: £10,950
Max speed: 30mph
Range: 40 miles
Running cost: 3.3 miles per kWh
Recharge time: Nine hours
Time from city airport to Heathrow: 2hr 8min
Contact: 020 8574 3232 or 01788 553 330

Look at the picture and you’ll see why I chose to drive the Mega Van. Compared with the others — a couple of Toytown refugees and something I was surprised to find did not have pedals — it looked by far the most normal.

Truth is I cannot remember when, or indeed if, I ever drove a car or van that felt as cheap and nasty as this.

The cabin plastic’s woeful; the driving position was so bad I struggled to get my foot onto the accelerator.

If anything the steering was worse still. Devoid of self-centring, you could turn the wheel, put your hands behind your back and go around in circles on the same lock until the battery ran dry.

And despite the fact that it had been plugged into the mains all night, it arrived with a quarter-charged battery. Given that it was 31 miles to Heathrow and its fully charged range is 40 miles at 30mph, this meant arriving on the back of an RAC truck. So I left it in the company of the national grid for another hour and hoped that would do the job. I knew I would come last, but at least I might get there.

But when the reserve power light came on at less than half distance, I abandoned hope even of that. How it actually made it, I’ll never know. The indicator needle had fallen off the gauge and come to rest lifeless against its stop. But still the Mega Van crawled west.

I felt triumphant when we arrived but glad, more than anything, not to spend any more time in that van. I had lost circulation in my right foot, my backside ached and my shirt was stuck to the seat with sweat.

If you were commuting into the congestion charge zone every day, had lightweight deliveries to make (it’ll carry only 420kg) and knew you could charge it easily whenever needed, it might in theory make some sense.

But the insurmountable hurdle is the price: you’d have to be greener than Kermit with food poisoning to think this represented value for money.

TWIKE
Jeremy Taylor

Price: £15,000
Max speed: 53mph
Range: 20-90 miles
Running cost: 12.5 miles per kWh
Recharge time: Three hours
Time from City airport to Heathrow: 2hr 8min
Contact: 07707 237 070 or www.twike.co.uk

It might look like an overweight Sinclair C5 but the Swiss-built Twike offers commuters a more practical mode of electric transport. The three-wheeler first appeared in 1996 and there are now 800 on the roads of Switzerland and Germany. Despite being billed as a city car, around London the Twike was more comfortable on smoother A-roads where the harsh ride wasn’t affected by potholes and uneven surfaces. The bucket seats lacked adjustment and after two hours I was contorting into all shapes to soak up the pain.

It may be dimensionally challenged but the Twike keeps up well with city traffic. The single front wheel means it turns quickly and can outmanoeuvre four-wheeled competition with ease. You can squeeze it through gaps and almost compete with scooters. Weighing in at about 230kg, officially the Twike has a top speed of 53mph and will accelerate to 40mph in 9sec. However, judging by our trip, that time must have been wind-assisted down a Swiss mountain pass. Range varies wildly from 20 to 90 miles depending on the traffic conditions but our stop-start dash across London finished with the in-car computer showing just two miles of battery power left.

Unlike the competition, the Twike takes just three hours to recharge from flat. Inside, the conventional foot pedal and steering wheel arrangement is replaced by a pistol-grip joystick fitted with accelerator and brake buttons. It means trigger-happy Twike drivers “aim” the three-wheeler like a gun. Squeeze the top button and the Twike moves forward; the lower button brings it gently to a halt.

While stopping power feels no better than a bicycle’s, there is an oversized emergency brake on the floor. The main structure is a U-shaped aluminium tube that provides a limited amount of reassurance when you are waiting at traffic lights, staring at the wheels of a 38-ton lorry. The space frame is covered with a thermoplastic resin that can also be recycled.

While the Twike can be fitted with a diesel-powered heater, keeping cool remains a problem. Opening the side windows relieves the agony only momentarily: the Twike leaves passengers at about the same height as lorry exhaust pipes. It could be a fear of anything three-wheeled but the all-electric Twike has yet to spark the imagination of British motorists.

For a trendy estate agency that could be good news but the Twike may just be too radical for British tastes. The hefty price and unconventional design are unlikely to make it a common sight.

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