With the release of the Hollywood documentary Who Killed the Electric Car, we sent Stuart Milne in to Central London with a G-Wiz and a feeling of fear.

There's a lot to be said for electric vehicles. They're quiet, don't emit emissions, and are exempt from London's £8 a day Congestion Tax.

Sadly I don’t live in London and like a car to make a pleasant noise. Preferably one with a V8-like throb.

So pushing these to the back of my mind, I set out with our new editorial assistant Adrian Hearn to get under the skin of Britain's Slowest Car.

And the first impressions weren't good. At over six foot, Adrian found it a struggle to negotiate an impact free entry into the diminutive city car.

After climbing in and out a few times, he was sporting a cartoon-like bump on the top of his head.

Climbing the steep slope from the underground car park at Auto Trader Towers was an art in itself - the delay before the G-Wiz starts accelerating makes hill starts more like hill descents.

Feeling a bit like Noddy and Big Ears in our Mini Cooper-striped clown car, we rolled silently out of the car park, towards the main road…where we met the office's smoking lobby, and hoots of laughter.

No matter though. We were on our way to zero emission bliss; and more importantly driving into London without handing its Mayor eight pounds of flesh. (OK its not actually flesh, but paying the £8 charge to drive in the capital certainly feels like it)

With the pangs of embarrassment subsiding, we were able to assess the G-Wiz for what it is - a tiny budget city car.

Priced at £7,499, our G-Wiz DC Drive came with the 'loaded' pack which meant we could perch on leather seats and listen to a JVC CD player.

The interior isn't a particularly nice place to be. There's too much shiny brittle plastic, and knobs, levers and dials feel like they've been built on the cheap.

And the leather-trimmed seats proved to be an osteopath's dream, with us falling out of the car with the kind of backache only the most brutal masseuse could fix.

You can sit in the back of a G-Wiz, but you'll have to store your knees in the boot. There's no legroom, not even for a small child.

Although there's a heater and a CD player, we were unsure whether they would send us into a battery-flattening hell. As it turns out, we covered 20 miles with bags of juice to spare.

With a long, clear road and some 40mph speed limit signs - a rarity in London - we tried a 'high speed' run. The dash from standstill to 20mph is fairly rapid, but after 25mph the G-Wiz started to run out of puff, wheezing to a top speed of 36mph.

Truth be told, 36mph is more than enough, particularly given the poorly-performing drum brakes. Equally as bad is its ability to stay put on a slope - unless you've got two feet pressed hard on the brake pedal you'll roll.

Because the G-Wiz is far from nippy, we found ourselves having to plan straightforward manoeuvres well in advance. Changing lane before that white van is staring at your bumper is easy in a gutsy car, but in this it requires thought, foresight and bravado.

Pulling out on a busy roundabout is more like Russian roulette.

And it seems no matter what you'd hit you'd come off second best, such is the flimsy bodywork.

Driving the G-Wiz is a strange affair. Stick the key in the ignition, pull the handbrake towards you and release and away you go.

No sound. No vibration. Just rolling forward like a miniature milk float; a very odd sensation indeed.

Next to the steering wheel is a dial which you can select reverse, neutral, economy or fast.

We spent most of the time in economy, because it was drizzling and Adrian didn't want to push. I'm not sure if I could put up with the ridicule of returning to the office under foot power anyway.

Once I was confident we'd make it back to the office, I slipped it into fast mode. Fast is a misnomer, because it made little difference to the top speed. The only differences were improved acceleration and a propensity for the power meter to nosedive towards empty.

Anyway, back to my G-Wiz adventures.

We crossed the Thames and headed towards Parliament Square where Adrian would jump out and get some pictures as I circled London's best known landmark.

Suddenly without a passenger and hundreds of buses, taxis and vans heading at me from all directions, it felt like driving a funfair dodgem car.

Cabbies gave me evils and a parade of continental kids on a school trip pointed and laughed. Even Parliament Square's resident peace protestor, Brian Haw gave me a funny look.

But its hardly surprising G-Wiz drivers aren’t popular among other motorists. It might be painfully slow, but it's narrow enough to create its own lanes, meaning it can fast-track itself to your destination alongside motorbikes, long before others have got to the next set of traffic lights.

On the way back, we parked for free (a bonus of driving an electric car in Westminster) to grab a bit of shopping. We popped open the boot to chuck it in, but as our pictures show, there isn't room to swing an earwig.

Adrian clutched the shopping on the way back, and as we headed to the quieter roads of Pimlico it started to occur to me that despite the G-Wiz obvious shortcomings, the concept is a good one.

Why do we need big, fast, noisy cars in crowded cities like London? Sure, they're great for the weekend, but a quiet, small, manoeuvrable car is perfect for the urban grind.

But to be honest, it's difficult to justify spending all that on a G-Wiz. You can buy an early Toyota Prius hybrid - and sooth your petrol-powered guilt - for about £5,000, which will give you the flexibility of inter-city driving and bags of space.

A G-Wiz spokesman told us they've sold more than 500 in London, and a quick check around any Westminster car park will tell you that's not too far of the mark.

And not one G-Wiz owner has given a single penny to the Mayor of London's Congestion Tax. And for that, I love it.

It's just a shame the G-Wiz doesn’t make the grade.

Related links
Electric car slideshow
Auto Watch: Who Killed the Electric Car?
Cruising down Electric Avenue