The Prius' key fob is like a grey plastic bar of soap, and when you plug it into the dashboard, its centre screen greets you in glorious colour. The biggest shock is when you press the big, round 'power' button. Nothing happens. The silence is eerie just 24 hours after the thunderous roar of the Aston Martin V8.

Then, the Prius gives a tiny beep to confirm that you've engaged drive with the tiny fascia-mounted joystick, and you make your way off without a whisper.

The cabin is as ergonomic as you would expect in a Toyota, and with several upgrades on the 2005 European Car of the Year's interior. Toyota has improved passenger comfort, head and legroom with a soft-touch paint finish for the dashboard and the introduction of a leather-trimmed steering wheel for the deluxe version. The trim's more colourful than the original, utilitarian combination of leather and suede-effect Alcantara: Crown Motors now offers options in red, green, silver and white, black, bronze and blue. And grey arrives on April 4, says spokeswoman Shirina Kwan.

Build quality is first-rate, with intelligent use of recyclable, light-weight materials everywhere. The hybrid isn't lavishly equipped, but has plenty of sensible storage space. For a medium-sized saloon, the Prius is accommodating, with plenty of legroom for near-six footers in all seats. The rear bench seat is practical, splitting 40:60 to form a flat loading area.

On the move, the funky graphics tell you whether you're running on the rechargeable battery or on petrol and which motors are propelling the car or converting motion into electricity. Touch the screen and the climate control and entertainment displays take over. The feather-light steering wheel adjusts for height, and its little switches allow you to tune the radio, change CDs and set the greenhouse temperature with both hands on the wheel. The brakes have extraordinary bite, and also recharge the battery.

When I boot the Prius from the lights, the electric motor offers almost three times the torque of a Corolla. Once you're rolling, the petrol engine provides some extra oomph, but almost imperceptibly, with only a faint whirr. The constant velocity transmission keeps the engine spinning at its torque peak of 4,000rpm.

The Prius gathers pace seamlessly. Although the hybrid isn't neck-snappingly quick, I was impressed with how well it held up in three-penalty-point territory on the climb to the Peak. Its skinny, high-walled 16-inch Bridgestones did a respectable job holding the chosen line, and the body roll and tyre squeal gave plenty of warning as we pressed on. The steering was direct and quick-geared, and the Prius was easy to weave through Coombe Road. All the time, the car felt planted and secure, with the new vehicle stability control trimming off excess speed and ambition.

But the Prius always reacts as if everything has to be processed by computer before being transmitted to the wheels. Even the steering feedback feels like a Playstation console.

I'm stunned by the Prius' near-panoramic visibility, however. Most modern cars have huge windows, but since the age of air-bags (the Prius car has eight) and safety crumple zones, the pillars holding the roof up have thickened to reduce your view into a corner. The Prius' pillars never obstructed my view of the road. The spoiler-cum-wiper bisecting the rear window is also a great help when reversing into a tight spot, but I still can't get used to those parking sensors.

The Prius is a perfect city car. It will swallow people and their stuff and cart them around quietly, peaceful in the knowledge that they're doing their part for the environment.

I would have dismissed the Prius as a rich-kids' gizmo for celebrity drivers, but I find this Prius a unique experience. I have a feeling it's how we'll drive in the near future. It's a shocking thought.