Do you remember when Gladiators was Saturday night for millions across Britain? The Queen music scores; the giant cotton buds that no one knew the proper names for; the allegedly match-rigging presenter. Here was an American import embraced by the Birmingham National Indoor Arena that appealed to everyone, from kids looking to brush up their playground fight manoeuvres to pervy dads hoping for cheap up-skirt thrills. It was The Krypton Factor without the side parting, and if the five-grand prize money didn’t whet your appetite (or cover the gym fees), the overall winner even drove away in a 4x4 off-road vehicle with its hazard warning lights jammed on.

Can the relaunched version regain the cult viewing status? It’s an important question, not just for Gladiators but for another American import that is strong on visual impact but lacking in subtlety, substance and class: the Hummer.

With a bloodline that goes back to the US military troop taxi (H1) and the 2.9ton, 6.2 litre civilian Tonka toy (H2), the H3 is the latest addition to the family. Shorter, narrower and lower, General Motors’ new baby (made in South Africa) has, its parent proudly reports, been on a European diet and been completely redesigned to be the most “urban-friendly” Hummer yet. Which means it’s right-hand drive, with 3.7 litres and five cylinders, weighs 2.6 tons and drinks only petrol. In tree-hugging terms I suppose it’s like ordering a mink coat, but in medium rather than large.

Using the Hummer as a target for eco-prejudices is a tad hypocritical, especially when so many Brits waft around in supercharged V8 Range Rovers. Though it must be said, on the day of my test drive it seemed the gods were trying to tell me something.

First the radio announced fuel shortages in Scotland due to refinery workers’ strikes. Shortly afterwards there was news that between them BP and Shell had posted record quarterly profits of £8.5 billion. As I neared the off-road course at Brooklands via the M25, traffic ground to a halt. Hordes of fuel protesters were on their way to barricade Park Lane to express their glee at British diesel breaking the £1.20 a litre barrier. The only way now to wring additional guilt from a lone man driving a chrome and yellow Duplo brick would be for someone to play Chris Rea’s Road to Hell. And they did. Nice work, Radio 2.

It’s okay, though, because the Hummer isn’t so much an SUV as one of those big army ducks in disguise. The ride feels choppy, like being on a ship, which will make kids seasick and adults reach for the nearest grab handle. On closer inspection, it turns out that the poor ride is due to the H3’s prehistoric rear leaf suspension (its H2 brother had a superior five-link setup and the older H1 boasted fully independent coil-sprung A-arms).

The nautical theme continues with the small, deeply recessed side windows like rectangular portholes. There are even bumper-mounted jumbo eyelets for when you dock on uneven ground. Or need somewhere to tie the bull terrier when stationary.

So why would you buy one of these wallowing hulks? Well, near the top of the list must be the desire to insulate yourself from modern traffic jams by travelling in the maximum amount of personal space. How is it, then, that the drawing-board geniuses at GM have managed to make it far smaller on the inside than it appears on the outside? They’ve created a Retardis – a reverse Tardis.

Haul your carcass into the cabin (there’s a step to help you, only it’s not at a useful height) and settle into the podgy leather thrones and it feels like a medium-sized family estate. My left leg started to throb after 50 miles because the swollen transmission tunnel prohibits it from stretching straight. A big chunk of cabin room is taken up by the T-shifter, which is truly of hammerhead shark proportions (H3s have manual gearboxes as standard but mine is automatic).

After an hour or so behind the wheel I somehow forget the visual severity of what I’m driving, until I pull up outside a mirrored shop facade. Remember in Quantum Leap when Sam Beckett is teleported into another place and time as somebody else? You see him as Scott Bakula until he peers into the surface of a ripple-free lake, or something like that, and then you realise he’s not a scientist but now trapped in the skin of a middle-aged female barrister who is stuck in a cave with cannibals.

The reflection in that shop window was not of a lanky motoring journalist but of a veiny WWE champ with ’roid rage. The Hummer H3 is an automotive version of the guy who walks past with intricate cobwebs inked across his entire shaved head. If your priority is getting rubbernecked, there is no finer machine. There’s one redeeming feature. Sort of. Because the Hummer is full-time four-wheel drive and because its brother is in the army, it likes to play in mud. And it plays very well, even with road tyres. If Britain experiences a record rainfall, I can report it will eagerly wade through water 610mm deep. Just as I was discovering the Hummer’s strongest point, however, there was more bad news. The H3 is possibly the only off-roader that looks better when polished than when mud-caked. Worse still, it possesses an effective self-soiling system thanks to some nonaerodynamics. Insects don’t have a chance of avoiding that completely flat windscreen (last seen in the old Fiat Panda) and even the smallest of muddy puddles resprays the rear haunches brown.

Hummer HQ has tried to please us Euro chaps with a right-hook steering wheel, smaller outer dimensions and even a lower rear bumper bar so that tailgaters in Smarts don’t decapitate themselves if they don’t brake as quickly as you. They’ve gone to the effort of building a 20-valve 242bhp five-pot engine and calling it something that sounds like a male enhancement drug – Vortec 3700. The problem is, it doesn’t run on diesel.

When negotiating the filler cap, you might be mistaken into thinking that fuel was a precious commodity to those who live in Hum world. In order to feed the H3 fuel you have first to use a circular barrel key to undo the chrome door. This lock is up there with those ones that stop expensive mountain bikes going missing. Then, with the chubby chrome door open, you have to use another key to access its throat. I spent two minutes getting to the point of nozzle access, and then came a long wait. With fuel at 115p a litre, it took £100.05 to brim the 87 litre tank. Someone with a quiff and a Trans Am once said to me, “The key to enjoying Yank metal is to avoid rational thinking, adore the aesthetics and, when you get to the fuel pumps, wedge your fingers in your ears and shout la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.” So why, despite all of the above, did the H3 have me captivated? The only rational explanation I can give is that it appeals to the same primeval cortex that causes people to bay at violent sports events such as, well, Gladiators. To begin with, I disliked it. Then I felt a grudging affection. Finally, I loved it. Or, at least, I loved what I felt like when I was driving it.

And why not? After all, it’s really only an American version of the Land Rover Defender – a British-built 4x4 that holds the road with equal reluctance, is just as unergonomic inside, has a crap turning circle, rarely returns better economy and is slow and expensive.

Yet for some reason, because the Defender’s got paint the same colour as hedges and is driven by folk with dung on their shoes, it’s almost celebrated as the vehicle for scientists, nature-chasers, riot police and television chefs who harp on about local ingredients. Drive the “urban-friendly” baby Hummer around towns and, to judge by the stares, you might as well have strolled into a bird sanctuary and shot a pair of breeding albatrosses.

It’s not as though Hummers have ever claimed to be something they’re not. It’s a lorry chassis with a militarily inspired cab bolted atop. Americans have been using this recipe since the days of 1950s fins and chrome, so why stop now? It’s not as though they’re talented at pulling off European style or Japanese functionality.

All right, the H3 is an irrational choice, but what other vehicle can you lash ropes to and reenact a scene from The Fall Guy by bursting through the nearest rickety gate? What the hell – go the whole hog and have howling wolves airbrushed on the spare-wheel cover. It’s one of only 500 heading our way.

Vital statistics

Model Hummer H3 Adventure automatic
Engine 3653cc, five cylinders
Power 242bhp @ 5600rpm
Torque 242 lb ft @ 4600rpm
Transmission Four-speed automatic
Fuel 19.5mpg (combined)
CO2 346g/km
Acceleration 0-60mph: 9.7sec
Top speed 98mph
Price £27,995
Road tax band G (£400 a year)
On sale Now
Verdict An honest and likeable caricature