Moke Electric review: more exposed than cycling a penny farthing while naked

Mate, someone’s pinched your Mini’s doors. And roof. And um, everything.

No, this isn’t yet another urban car to fall victim to the latest bout of parts-stripping thieves. This car handily gets around all that by not having any panels in the first place. Presenting the Moke Electric, the most exposed you’ll feel on the road unless you choose to ride up high on a penny farthing. While nude.

What the heck is a Moke?

This calls for some history. Stick with me, the story is quintessentially English and kinda hilarious.

In the early 1960s, the British Army were looking for a small, agile vehicle which could be loaded into transporter aircraft and lobbed out in mid-air. The idea was that these cars would parachute down to the battlefield with paratroopers close behind. Once they’d landed, they’d simply untie the car and rollock off to victory. Back home in time for tea’n’medals. All that jazz.

So this thing was designed to win wars?

Getting there. The top brass had been interested in the best-selling Morris Mini, but even at well under a tonne, it needed it to lose some weight. So, the British Motor Corporation gamely threw away all of the bodywork (not as if it was bulletproof or even light breeze-proof anyway) and jacked the ride height up a bit.

There was even talk of fitting a second engine in the boot to make the usually front-wheel drive Mini four-wheel drive. But the army saw the prototype and decided it didn’t have enough payload capacity or ground clearance to be of any use.

How the top brass didn’t see that coming is anyone’s guess. Of course a Mini-based buggy isn’t going to be as useful off-road as a purpose-built military off-roader like a Jeep or a Land Rover. And that could’ve been the end of the story.

What happened next?

Except, someone enterprising at Mini thought that instead of being an army truck, their new stripped-out Mini might make a fun summer car. Instead of soldiers, the Moke (named after an olde term for a mule) became the must-have for the Sixties jet-set. Paul McCartney had one. So did screen siren Bridgette Bardot and ol’ blue eyes himself, Frank Sinatra. If you were cool in the Sixties and needed a way to get from the beach clubhouse to your yacht, you used a Moke.

Over the decades the design was exported and built all over the world. By the mid-1990s the rights had ended up in Italian hands and the car was no longer profitable. Plus, with BMW’s takeover looming, the Moke’s days were numbered.

And now it’s back?

Well, yes. And no. This isn’t a restomod. Not a single panel (or rather, neither panel) is shared with the old Moke. It isn’t even based on an old Mini, or a new one. The reborn Moke comes from a new start-up company who has the rights to the look and the name, but started with a clean sheet of paper. And, naturally, made the dorkiest car in the world.

Does it have a horsepower?

Actually it has 44 of them, all aimed at the teeny rear wheels. Torque is a road-rippling 96lb ft, and the top speed is a draughty 50mph.

But Moke International knows where the Moke came from and why it became a cult hero. It’s well aware this isn’t an everyday car, or even a third car. It’s a toy. A runabout for high days and holidays. Where the Renault Twizy was never going to be a profitable entity pitched as a genuine city car contender, Moke is happy for this thing to be a novelty.

How far does it go on a charge?

That’s why the range claims are sensible. Because it has the aerodynamics of an allotment shed, it’ll only go around 50-55 miles if you take it up to A-road speeds. But, in town, or down by the sea-front, it’ll toddle along for up to 80 miles on its 10.5kWh battery.

Is it comfortable?

Look, it’s not going to have Rolls-Royce reverse-engineering it when they need to take the roof off the Spectre, but the structure feels more rigid than the catamaran chassis suggests. It takes speed bumps in its stride and though you sit loftily with the steering wheel resting in your lap, and treading on pedals that feel like they’ve come from a piano, it’s fairly civilised. Keep the speed down to avoid the air tumbling off the windscreen and slapping you about the chops and rattling the seatbelts, and getting cramp from the surprisingly heavy steering.

It's nippy though – 4.5 seconds from 0-30mph doesn’t sound special but it’s a whizzkid in a traffic light grand prix against a surly cyclist.

But what’s this car actually for?

Running mates about on a golf course, I guess. This is – commendably – a genuine four-seater, but the boot is a tiny locker out back that’s completely filled by the crumpled tent that’s billed as an emergency roof.

So, what are the problems?

Besides ‘the British weather’ and ‘hearing what every van driver thinks of your Noddy car’… there are one or two issues. Making the interior a hose-down affair is brilliantly utilitarian but it entirely lacks the kitsch charm of the exterior. Anyone over five foot nine will struggle with the sit-up-and-beg driving position too.
And you’ve cunningly failed to tell me the price.

Ah, Yes. Um. It’s £35,995. Which is quite a lot for a few girders on some sofa wheels. And the original Moke cost £400 back in the Sixties, which is only about £7,000 in today’s pounds.

Still, today’s jet set are richer too. If you want this year’s most head-turning EV… I guarantee you it’s this thing – not a Rimac or even a Cybertruck – that wins.