Best sub-£30k electric SUV? Renault 4 vs Puma and Aceman

The Puma Gen-E compares well. Prices start at £26,245 thanks to its sizeable saving, or £28,245 in this posher Premium iteration. It's a mite punchier than the 4, with 166bhp and an 8.0sec jog to 62mph, although its 43kWh of usable battery leads to a skinnier 226-mile range.

Completing our set is a bit of an anomaly, not least because it doesn't gain any government incentive as a Chinese-built model. We wanted either the base Mini Aceman E; it would match this group reasonably well at £28,905, 181bhp, 7.9sec, 38.5kWh and 192 miles, or its £3000-pricier SE sibling, which would fight its foes better on battery and range and slice them down entirely on performance.

Instead, here's a giant for them to kill: Mini was only able to offer us its halo Aceman John Cooper Works, which starts at £37,000 and swings a 255bhp sledgehammer to the others. It's an extreme representation of the Aceman as an enthusiast option among like-minded company, but rest assured we'll keep front of mind the versions you'll actually buy.

Let's start in the 4. It made mincemeat of my four-hour, 200-mile trip to the shoot, its charging stints feeling brisk despite a modest 100kW maximum DC refreshment rate. It's a doddle to plan where those stops will be, too: the built-in Google Maps of higher-spec cars plans intuitively where to plug in, for how long and how much charge you can expect at your destination.

The app sits tidily among some very intuitive native software, the screen perched above physical climate control toggles the only ones here.

This is an easy car to leap into and figure out on the move, with only its irritating gear selection stalk a carry-over from the 5 - but absent on its Alpine A290 cousin - to mar an otherwise exemplary cockpit in both design and ergonomic terms. Who would have bet on Renault leading this particular area a decade or so ago?

It operates neatly on the move, too, and plenty of miles roll under its 18in alloys before I have any real desire to go prodding its Multi Sense button to explore sportier modes.

The 'Renault 4' emblem ahead of the front passenger cycles through teal, yellow, red and purple as you toggle through the various set-ups, and you can fiddle further with the ambience in the on-screen menus. It's useful for keeping the car fresh across its lease deal (or beyond) and you can always ignore it entirely if you're unconvinced.

Paddle shifters on its steering wheel toggle you through four brake regeneration levels, the strongest serving up one-pedal driving. All but the lightest setting trigger the brake lights, though, something that feels polite to avoid in smoothly flowing traffic. But the paddles allow quick and gratifying adjustment and allow you to mimic downchanges on a decent piece of road.

While its acceleration is far too smooth and linear to truly enthral, the 4 is the easiest car in which you can just weld your foot to the floor and maintain momentum: its innate composure and modest output allow you to cover ground like a hurried commuter in a sepia-hued clip of its classic namesake just without the terrifying body roll and collapsing sidewalls.

Crikey, its ride is good. This modern remake is imbued with just enough insouciance over challenging surfaces to feel laid-back without being aloof. It stops short of any mischief, however, and cheekier cornering speeds can lead to pretty prevalent understeer.

The 4's idea of driver fulfilment revolves not around pure dynamics but rather a more holistic approach of ambient light, comfy upright seating, lushly mixed materials and a general, pervading cheeriness more flagrant agility is sensibly left to its 5 and A290 relations.

Its sheer polish betrays the hard yards Renault has put into EVs since the gawky Fluence ZE and slapstick Twizy. Refinement is the 4's strong suit, and the way it suppresses the noise and fuss of a long motorway cruise is barely fathomable for something sub-£30k.

Fords were always the driver's car in any group, of course - the Blue Oval's early-noughties heyday is still fresh in many of our memories as the Fiesta, Focus and Mondeo swashbuckled their way into the best-sellers list to vindicate the desires of us enthusiasts.

The true gem of that era was the original Puma, simply one of the best-balanced, sweetest-revving mainstream cars of any period. The SUV remake in 2020 was never going to be a dynamic replica, but Ford got close enough to avoid blushes, and the new-age Puma has been a mainstay in the charts ever since.

Converting to full electric yet keeping its absurdly deep 'Megabox' boot feels like a masterstroke necessary when Ford's European range is looking seriously undercooked once you remove anything that is van-shaped. The Gen-E's interior tells a tale of affordability, mind: it lacks its rivals' design curiosity while being swathed in more obviously hard-wearing plastics.

It deploys two large screens but doesn't integrate them nearly as well as the Renault, and they're vital for basically every function even switching between drive modes, which becomes a fiddlier affair than it really ought to be. It's also within the larger screen that you'll activate the Puma's one-pedal mode and synthesised powertrain sound.

I really like the latter - its impression of an old turbo-triple Fiesta ST is close enough to avoid true parody. It's a welcome addition to acceleration, yet it's wise enough to tail off under sustained throttle, thus avoiding the droning bear trap into which an Abarth 500e ambles blindly.

It is immediately more focused than the Renault via its fiddlier ride: its inch-bigger 19s and their skinnier sidewalls more readily interrupt your flow on a bumpy B-road while also demonstrating a notable increase in tautness over the base, 17in-equipped Gen-E Select about which we have previously raved.

But there's a panache to the Puma's handling that's absent in its French rival, and here we witness the resurfacing of some of that old Ford magic.

There's still not enough power for it to truly excite, and you can sense some headroom being left for a potential ST-badged model or similar. It's brisk enough, however, but it takes sodden weather to reveal any traction issues from its front Goodyears.

Any scurries in the wet are betrayed faithfully through the steering, and it's the most natural thing in the world to back off the throttle just enough to correct your line. Indeed, there's a consistency across its various control weights and a sparkle to its steering response that feels close to unique in this sector; some tangible thought and care has been woven into this car's development.

Naturally its reactions are more binary than Fords of yore, and heck does it feel heavy under brakes and on initial turn-in. Its 1563kg at-the-kerb claim is decent for an EV (and beside the Mini), but you're under no illusions about the 250kg or so gain over a stock Puma: right at the point you seek a bit more interaction or excitement from its handling, you feel the electronics rein the Gen-E in.

These are the moments when its old two-door namesake flourished and in which an electric crossover simply doesn't. Yet there is still much to commend the only car here to run a more rudimentary torsion beam rear-end arrangement rather than all-round independent suspension.

The Mini is perhaps the most technically adept of all our cars, and this John Cooper Works iteration proves the ultimate expression of the dynamic priorities of the Aceman. It's hard to pin the car down from a practicality perspective - the words of editor Mark Tisshaw match my thoughts entirely when he said "I can't work out whether it's trying to be a big small car, or a small big car" of our departed Aceman E long-termer.

It's more of a Mini-plus, with back doors and a mite more practicality to eke out some flexibility over an equivalent Cooper hatch yet no false promises to swallow up the family duties a 4 or a Puma could so ably perform.

It had better be good to drive to justify its drawbacks, then, and it's undoubtedly the most excitable of this company. It's only natural the JCW's extra 100bhp over its opponents gives it considerable extra wallop in a straight line - enough, as we found at its launch, to result in some very boisterous dynamics merely in a straight line, never mind corners.

Today provides a vivid reminder. It feels prudent to toggle its natty Experiences switch down to Green mode, then, to not only calm things down but also better imitate the less potent Acemans you're likely to cross-shop against the other two.

It feels a more likeable car immediately: its wheelspin and torque steer are ironed out and some real fluency is found over sections of road on which the 4 and Puma at times floundered.

While it never stops being firm, its damping improves with a bit of pressure, and this car's purpose swells with speed. Sporty cars tend to favour being driven as such; this Mini all but demands it.

It flicks into turns with more speed and obedience than the others, and there's more balance to play with from thereon. It lacks the Ford's steering feel, but I'm not sure you'll miss it, so quick and eager is the Aceman's rack.

You'll have to really crave its design and dynamism in this company, mind. It's pricier and smaller, rides the toughest and simply won't fit as many use cases. Minis, especially the hotter ones, have always represented a more esoteric choice, and being sat low and central in the Aceman, its driving position - more akin to a hot hatch than a handy crossover - and with that rich OLED dish to your left, is an arresting place to be.

Its domineering touchscreen appears to divide the Autocar testing team, but I rather like it. This is Mini disrupting like only Mini can.

There's a lot to like about three very familiar car makers each demonstrating what it does best: Renault championing comfort, Ford dynamism and Mini design frivolity. Let's also celebrate a trio of relatively affordable and mainstream crossovers that still target driver enjoyment in one form or another.

The Aceman is the most immediately thrilling, the Puma best balances pragmatism and performance, while the 4 charms most consistently. If you like the way it looks, there's more than enough substance beneath.

It wins as our all-rounder, but if you're sold on either of its competitors, we won't talk you out of them. Viva los legacy brands and their safe, reliable ports amid an industry storm.