on the sidewalls

Let’s start off with a simple fact: the Citroen DS4 is NOT a pick-up truck. It’d be crap at taking rubble to the tip, it doesn’t lumber on leaf springs and people won’t think you’ve got a tattoo of a bear on your chest if you drive it. What it is though, is almost every other type of car in existence.

A hot hatch for starters. Quite a good one actually. Fitted with the same 200bhp petrol engine that nestles behind the recently-caught-trout-face of the Peugeot RCZ, the DS4 can parp and charge with all the passion of a violently farty bullock. It’ll rattle off the 0-62 run in less than 8 seconds and keep the needle nudging clockwise to 146mph.

Quite bafflingly, and despite its parpiness, the DS4 is also a crossover. The driving position is described by the vaguely pornographic term of ‘semi-command’ – meaning while you can’t see over other cars, you are just about high enough to implement a condescending stare. The ride height too, which is the car’s least convincing symptom of being a jack of all trades, makes the car look rufty tufty rather than lanky.

Yet, despite the wheel arch gaps, it’s also a surprisingly spikey coupe. The suspension is stiffer and sharper than the Arran-sweater wearing C4 on which it’s based, resulting in a little victory over the supposed effects of a high centre of gravity.

It changes direction well, grips like a leech on a fatty and possesses that rarest of qualities in a modern car – steering feel. The electro-hydraulic steering (instead of purely electric) and racy Michelin Pilot Sport tyres deserve thanks for this. Subtle rubbery granules pulsing through the palms… what a treat.

We’re not quite finished yet – the DS4 is a sensible hatchback too. When it goes on sale in Autumn 2011, the cheapest model will cost around £18,000 and be fitted with a 1.6HDi engine capable of 60mpg while emitting 122g/km of CO2. Spec the clicky flap EGS gearbox and the figures improve to 64mpg with 114g/km. And the 385 litre boot is actually slightly bigger than the supposedly more sensible C4’s. Ooooh.

Did we mention the interior has an authentic touch of luxury car about it? Well it has.

Of course, this melee of contradictory goodness has led to some less welcome quirks. For a starter, it’s the only five-door hatch we know where the rear windows don’t open. Citroen’s spin wizard quite nonchalantly explained that ‘it’s because the DS4 is a coupe and coupe’s don’t have opening rear windows do they?’. Err, it’s a hatchback and a lot of coupes do have hinged rear windows actually.

Secondly, the gap betwixt wheel and wheel arch looks daft. But that’s about it. The DS4 really has nailed the fast/fun/frugal/stylish/sporty/spacious/different/not too bloody weird combo incredibly well. Makes a Countryman look… well, like the first syllable of its name.

We started with a fact, so we’ll end with another: the Citroen DS4 is the least compromising compromise in motoring. And we like it a lot.

Spent some time in the new Infiniti M30d – the first version of Infiniti’s Audi A6 rivalling saloon to come with a diesel engine. Other than being a few MPG short of class best, and perhaps being a little bit camp for some po-faced executive saloon buyers, it’s faultless. Wrote a limerick about it, obviously…

The Infiniti M30d
Is furnished by Liberace
But the engine is subtle
And the ride never rattles
I’d rather this than a lifeless Audi

Infiniti M30d Geek Table

Model: Infiniti M30d GT
Price: £40,190
Engine: 3.0 V6 turbodiesel
Power: 235bhp @ 3,750rpm
Torque: 405lb ft @ 1,750rpm
MPG: 37.7 combined
CO2: 199g/km
0-62mph: 6.9 secs
Top speed: 155mph

Yes. We know. It’s mechanically indistinguishable from a SEAT Ibiza Cupra or Skoda Fabia vRS. Do you know quite how BORED the world is of that fact? Jaysus.

What The Most Repeated Car Fact of the 21st Century So Far neglects to mention is that the minutiae of a car’s execution is just as critical as its gearbox, engine and chassis. Which is why the Polo GTI is better than two cars that are the same as it.

The extra sheen of the Polo’s interior is just the start – the biggest difference between the three cars is on the road. Seriously.

A Fabia vRS feels like a cheap car with a very expensive engine – fast, but also a bit tall and imprecise. The Ibiza Cupra by comparison gives the impression that it’s trying too hard… all shouty, darty and hard without much charm or feel. Blame it on the height of their bodies, sound proofing and weight distribution.

In comparison, the Polo feels like a perfectly judged hot hatch marvel. It’s the last of the three to go on sale, but the GTI gives the impression that it was designed first – the ideal calibration of a shared platform that Skoda and SEAT had to cheapen and differentiate themselves from.

The ride is fractionally less busy… the induction noise slightly richer… the steering infinitesimally meatier… you’ve got to be a real hot-hatch loser hell-bent on finding tiny traces of tweaked tactility to feel the difference, but that’s what we are. Give us a good hot hatch in Wales over anything else on the road. And the Polo GTI is a very good hot hatch.

Blame it on witchcraft, blame it on mysterious mechanical alchemy… but we honestly think the difference is big enough to avoid blaming our own exaggerated memories of the other two cars.

And yes. We also know that the fizzy brilliance of a Renaultsport Clio makes praising the tactility of a Polo GTI sound a bit overwrought. The best of the three is still second best to the Renault.

Can you imagine having nearly £40,000 to spend on a brand new car? It’d be like waking up with two willies. Some of the finest cars on sale vying for your attention, luring you in with their glowing reviews. Porsche Boxster, BMW 525d Touring, Land Rover Discovery 4… the list of class leading stunners could coax up a chubby.

And for the same price, you could buy the updated Nissan Murano.

So, what does it do to tempt that £40,000 from your lucky-git fingers? Well, erm… I was always told that if I haven’t got anything nice to say I shouldn’t say anything at all. So here’s a picture.

As I haven’t got anything nice to say about the ride, handling, styling or performance, I won’t talk about them. Certainly won’t mention the steering. And I can’t really discuss the qualities of the new 2.5 turbodiesel engine either – because struggling to do 30mpg is only a nice thing when compared to the V6 petrol Murano… which struggled to do 20.

I can, however, comment on the high equipment levels, including side and rear parking cameras, a good sat nav, Bluetooth and heated seats. Probably shouldn’t go into how the driver’s seat looks and feels like a dentist’s chair though.  Can’t mention the rest of the interior either. Especially not the plastic around the lever of the standard 6-speed auto-box. Or the brightness controls for the dials. Or the electric mirror switches.

In fact, the nicest thing I can say about the Murano is how it should make us feel very lucky. The big Nissan isn’t dangerous or even anything worse than mediocre in every way – yet it’s about as wide of the mark as brand new cars get. So thanks, Murano. Thanks for reminding us just how excellent every other car on sale is.

Spent some time thrumming about in Hyundai’s facelifted i10, complete with new 3-cylinder petrol engine. It’s a cracking little machine that dips below the magic VED/C-Charge CO2 barrier of 100g/km without resorting to diesel fuel or laptop batteries. Wrote a limerick about it, obviously…

With emissions that won’t hurt a flea

The Blue’s yearly tax disc is free

Add a chassis that’s quick

To a gearshift that’s slick

And city kicks you can guarantee

Hyundai i10 Blue Geek Table

Price: £9,195
Engine: 998cc 3-cylinder petrol
Power: 68bhp
Torque: 70lb ft
MPG: 67.3 combined (claimed)
CO2: 99g/km (claimed)
0-62mph: 14.8 seconds
Max speed: 93mph

We can confidently report that the brand new BMW X3 is rather excellent. Not just excellent for a ‘pointless crossover’ either – it’s an excellent car full stop. In fact, it’s got an answer for every single knee-jerk crossover criticism known to man. Look, we’ll prove it…

Knee-jerk crossover criticism no.1: ‘Yeah but these gas guzzling SUVs are making Eskimos homeless’.

Nope. Not this one. Thanks to CO2 emissions of 149g/km and a combined mpg of 50.4, it’s cleaner than any Audi Q5 or Volvo XC60 – even the green leaved DRIVe version. It actually uses less fuel and emits less CO2 than a Fiat Panda 4×4… and nobody has ever called a Panda a planet killer.

Knee-jerk crossover criticism no.2: ‘Yeah, but it’ll topple over as soon as you go round a corner’

We drove for over 400 miles in our BMW X3 and not once did any of its wheels lift the ground – and the same can’t be said about the mk2 Golf GTi we used to drive on a daily basis.

Its vigilance around corners is actually just one facet of a generally rather suave and confident chassis. The X3 doesn’t iron out road roughness entirely, but instead smothers it in rubber-backed velvet… you can enjoy the texture of tarmac without being distracted by it.

Knee-jerk crossover criticism no.3: ‘Yeah but I bet despite it being massive outside it’s got no space inside’

Its boot is bigger than a Q5 or XC60’s and just 5 bottles of coke smaller than a 5 Series Touring. And even Angela Rippon’s leggy sister would enjoy folding herself into the maturely tailored cabin.

It’s also worth noting that those of Angela Rippon’s advanced years will appreciate that both the boot and seats are higher up and therefore more easily accessed than a 5 Series Touring.

Knee-jerk crossover criticism no.4: ‘Yeah but, Angela Rippon aside, you may as well get a normal estate car’

Guess what? Some people live in the countryside. Or go to car boot sales in boggy fields. Or live at the top of a hill where it snows. Or like seeing over hedges and traffic. Sometimes having twice the amount of driven wheels and a higher ride height compared to a normal estate car comes in handy. Also, at £31,135, the X3 is actually cheaper than a 5 Series Touring with an identical engine… and, like the 5, comes with leather seats and climate control as standard

If you actually want to go off-roading then a Land Rover Freelander 2 would be better… but the X3 is infinitely better on road. And, because you’re probably thinking it, a Discovery 4 is at least £5,000 more expensive so doesn’t really count.

So there you go – the BMW X3 is the best mid-sized crossover thing by far. So good that it’s actually just a bloody good car that should quite rightly tempt a few country dwelling 5 Series buyers.

Rhythm method fans rejoice! Volkswagen have birthed a new version of their 7 seat Sharan – and it’s better than ever! Auto Exclamation are the first in the world to drive it to a specific car park in Birmingham, and we’ve got exclusive renderings of exactly what it looks like there! It’s like this!

The headline about this car-creche is that it now comes with sliding doors! Compared to the last model’s old-fashioned apertures, these openings are super simple – they slide back and forth with all the ease of a fertile father’s clammy arse! And the greasy weasel door-holes aren’t the only reason the Sharan scores!

Fancy moving the rear-most seats about but don’t want to slip a disc? In some MPVs that’s a tall order… but the Sharan’s got your back! Its new EasyFold seating system is the best around, with the rear two seats shrinking down and rising up again like they’ve been spiked with tiny blue pills! These seat erections are the most impressive around!

And there’s more good news! If you expected the Sharan to have the noisy finesse of Mothercare on a Saturday, you’ll be pleasantly surprised – Volkswagen’s boffins have made it posh as well as practical!

The Sharan’s ride is soft, noise from the frugal 2.0 turbodiesel engine is low and even the best baby monitors would struggle to pick up any gurgles from the wind or tyres! The sprats’ll have no trouble sleeping in the back! Shame they won’t bloody sleep at bedtime because of it, isn’t that right mums!

So, any reasons not to fall in love with Sharan? Well, just one! She’s got a cut-price Spanish twin who isn’t named after a woman from Essex! It’s the SEAT Alhambra! With identical engines and gearboxes – inlcuding an excellent double-clutch system – as well as the same seats and sliding doors, the saucy Spaniard has all the VW’s best bits… for a smaller price tag! While our mid-spec Sharan costs £26,965, the same Alhambra costs £25,805!

But the badge on the pram is worth a lot – McLaren even make a supercar to prove the point! And that’s why we recommend the Volkswagen Sharan without hesitation! If you want your babies to understand life, you need to show them that grown-ups are silly enough to spend £1,000 on a posh badge! After all, what would you want to be seen in – Matalan or Mamas & Papas?! Exactly!

Spent some time in the brand new ‘global’ Micra recently – a car Nissan will sell in 160 countries across the world. In place of a traditional road test, may we introduce the second in our fledgling series of ‘Review… in a Limerick’.

The global Micra won’t make you giddy

And its styling won’t please the kiddies

But with soft springs, space and kit

It’s not completely shit

Suppose it’ll do for old biddies

Don’t quite understand why ‘global’ means ‘bland’, especially when the excellent Fiesta is equally global but incredibly enjoyable. You do get a thorough splat of equipment, but the nobs and blueteeth are just distractions that keep the price frighteningly close to the Ford’s – we reckon it’d make more sense with fewer gadgets and a cheap as chips, Lidl-spec price tag.

Geek Table

Price: £9,250 – £12,350
Engine: 1.2l 3-cylinder
Power: 79bhp @ 6,000rpm
Torque: 81lb ft @ 4,000rpm
Combined mpg (claimed): 56.5
CO2 emissions (claimed): 115
0-62mph: 13.7 secs
Top speed: 106mph

It’s a well documented fact that rockstars are just caricatures of children. Bad tempered, impatient and feisty little bastards with a love of noisy parties, fizzy drinks and eye-watering sherbet. Sometimes they even shit themselves.

So to find out if the Mazda5 MPV is any good, we’ll judge it by the criteria a rockstar would use when buying a tour bus. If it’s good enough for them, it’ll certainly be OK for kids.

Is it cheap enough to avoid denting the prostitute fund?

Yes. Even the most expensive Mazda5 costs just £21,950 and offers such privileges as electrically operated doors (to minimise erosion to the guitarist’s hands), leather furniture (which can be wiped clean of incriminating substances) and a 6CD changer (to accommodate every volume of that not-at-all-indulgent live album).

Running costs are kept to a minimum with the option of a diesel-powered version that should travel for over 50 miles on each gallon of fuel.

Will it function as an impromptu party venue?

Almost certainly. There are drinks holders for even large beverages, trays for preparing pharmaceutical extravagances, cubby holes for storing herbal remedies and armrests for those who prefer to sit back and pass out. A DJ can even plug his decks directly into the Mazda5’s sound system using the handy audio input.

Is there room for a pair of midgets in tuxedos?

Of course. The Mazda5 has two pop-up rear seats that are perfect for humans of more modest proportions. These seats could be used by two midgets, or perhaps by Prince and his guitar. Behind the seats, Mazda have provided ample room for storing tuxedos and other formal wear, with spare space for any mirrors, razor blades or rolled up banknotes that the midgets might be carrying.

Is it discreet enough to sneak out the stage door unnoticed?

Possibly not. The Mazda5 was styled by Mazda’s recently departed pencil wielder Laurens van den Acker, who seemed to be a massive fan of wavy lines. The front is plain and the rear as unwieldy as any 7-seat van, but the sides are a panel beater’s nightmare that might inspire a few unwanted glares. Happily, privacy glass is available for rear-seat passengers.

If the shit hits the fan, will it outrun the cops?

It depends on the road. Around corners, the Mazda5 grips well and demonstrates all the agility of a well greased groupy, but it is not a machine designed for straight line speed. The fastest model takes 11 seconds to reach the national speed limit, while the slowest takes 13.7. No models in the range can travel faster than 120mph – a speed that’s easily matched by a cop in a Mondeo.

So, should the band buy one?

Unless the swoopy styling knocks the drummer’s mind out of time, it’s hard to argue against it. The Mazda5 demands little from the band’s account and provides all the space and wipe-clean practicality that even the most debauched rockstar parties could need. It’s just a shame the engines can’t be turned up to 11.

What a confusing, contradictory fellow the handsome new Volvo V60 is. Not only is it very definitely not a ‘Naughty Volvo’ as the company’s tremendously misguided marketing bumpf would have you believe, it’s not a staid or boxy one as Volvo’s previous form would suggest either. And it’s got a smaller boot than an Audi A4 Avant or BMW 3 Series Touring. Seriously.

Not naughty, not boxy, not roomy… so what is it?

Perhaps a sporty estate? Well, no. Despite Volvo’s suggestion that the V60 is a ‘sports wagon with driving properties that do the sporting appearance full justice’, it’s actually a very stable, refined and relaxing drive. Yes, it’ll negotiate a mini-roundabout without bending a wishbone, but it’s not sporty. ‘Capably athletic’ is as far as we’ll go.

Is it luxurious then? Nope. There aren’t enough twinkles, baubles or massagers to make it feel sparkly and posh. No ambient lighting, no hidden surprises or jewel encrusted buttons – just a fairly drab interior slab that isn’t quite as ergonomic or responsive as you’d expect. It’s even less luxurious than it is sporty.

Right. So, maybe it’s cheap? Ah, things are picking up – the V60 is cheaper than a  BMW 3-Series or Audi A4,. The range starts at £25k for which you get climate control, Bluetooth, 4 electric windows and a charismatic but slightly peaky 5-cylinder turbodiesel with 163bhp. Prices hit max at £36k and there are some petrols too – but the sweet spot is our £30k D3 Lux SE with the 163bhp turbodiesel, leather, sat nav and electric seats. It’s a good value car in which we averaged 40mpg.

And, being a Volvo, surely it’s safer than abstinence? Indeed it is. The V60 is endowed with the safety kit from the automotive world’s biggest hypochondriac, the S60 saloon.

Not only can it show warning lights if you’re too close to the car in front or if someone’s in your blind spot, it will brake for you if you fail to notice an approaching obstacle. And it’ll slam the brakes on if a pedestrian walks out in front of you. And it’ll beep if you change lane without indicating. And it monitors your alertness to make sure you don’t nod off. There’s a even fictional optional extra that can cure speech impediments.

The lights and warning bongs can be irritating, but the enormous cluster of radars, sensors and cameras mounted to the front of the car are reassuring – and if they avoid or minimise the effect of a collision just once, they’re worth the occasional distraction.

So. After that exploration of the Volvo’s talents and foibles, what have we learnt? Well, it’s not particularly dynamic, spacious or luxurious but is cheap, comfortable and safe – the V60 is actually a brilliant car for people who don’t really give a shit about cars. So while car geeks might find it contradicory and confusing, it’s actually very well judged. What do we know anyway.

Spent some time in a Fiat 500 TwinAir a few weeks ago. Mainly because of the rorty thrump of its two cylinder engine, I really enjoyed it. Was going to write a standard review of it, but because there are far too many incredibly similar such things in the world, I’m not going to. Here’s a limerick:

The fruity new TwinAir has got

An engine with only two pots

It’s supposed to achieve

69mpg

But 40 is all that I got

It’s the most charismatic 500 engine, but not the most economical. And just in case you don’t think that limericks are the future of automotive reportage, here are some reassuring facts:

Price: from £10,665
Engine: 875cc 2-cylinder turbo
Power: 85bhp at 5,500rpm
Torque: 107lb/ft at 1,900rpm
Claimed fuel economy: 68.9mpg combined
Achieved fuel economy: 39.2 mpg
Emissions: 95g/km (claimed)
0-62mph: 11 secs
Top speed: 108mph

Quite like limerick car reviews actually. Maybe I’ll do it again.

It’s the time of year when the world’s men-folk indulge in one of their Top 5 Favourite Activities – making and reading lists. So as a Christmas present to you loyal reader(s), we’re going to write a list all of our own. Lady and Man, we present The Top Five Cars We’ve Driven in 2010.

5. Mitsubishi Evo X FQ400

When we bagged the keys to Mitsubishi’s window-licking hyper-saloon, we were immediately stunned. This wasn’t just a creaky jap-box being kept alive with a huge iron lung of a turbo, but an incredibly well set-up and easy to drive weapon. Even in the hands of ham-fisted amateurs like ourselves, it danced, whooshed, raced and destroyed. Simultaneously flattering and brutal.

Yes it looks daft, has a tacky interior, costs £50k and won’t do 20mpg – but that’s why it’s only at number 5. For being brilliant as well as preposterous, the Fahk-You-400 makes the list.
Read our original review here.

4. Citroen DS3

Not long ago, Citroen showrooms resembled branches of Lidl – cheap stock piled high to shift quick. To mums and dads after a bargain C4 Picasso, it was great. But everybody else wanted to shop in Waitrose. Which is where the DS3 came in.

Suddenly, Citroen had a posh little car that was genuinely desirable instead of apologetically affordable. The styling was sharp and different, the engines were consistently strong and even the chassis could flick its skirt like a saucy French maid. To our senses, it doesn’t quite match the dynamic ability of a Mini… but in every other respect, it’s better. One of very few new cars we’d actually buy with real-life monies.

Read our original review here.

3. Skoda Superb Estate

The car that took Skoda from plucky underdog to class-leader. While the previous Superb never quite had the gumption to live up to its name, this one wears it with pride. You know the bullied kid at school who goes away for a year, comes back buff and kicks the giblets out of everyone? That’s the Superb. Only it’s far less angry.

Priced from less than £18k, you get the second biggest boot of any estate car in the UK (only beaten by the Merc E-Class), a faultless interior, the best of VW’s current engines and more rear leg-room than anything this side of a Rolls Phantom. It ticks boxes that don’t even exist. There’s even a brolly in the door.
Read our original review here.

2. Honda CR-Z

Shock! ‘The World’s First Sporty Hybrid’© actually is! But strangely, most of its endearing features have little to do with the combination of electricity and combustion under its skin. What stands out for us is the design and engineering that have gone into making it fun to drive.

A snicky six speed manual gearbox. A rorty-on-request exhaust note. Beautifully judged spring and damper settings. A sci-fi-tastic digital hub of a dashboard. Grip and balance that are tweakable on the road. An 80s wedge shape that also nods to the obligatory eco-car steam iron aesthetic. A super-strong chassis with the torsional rigidity of a Civic Type-R. The CR-Z is an incredibly well resolved little car. That it’s cheaper than a Scirocco, C-Charge exempt, costs peanuts to tax and is as economical as a stodgy diesel is a bonus.
Read our original review here.

1. Ford Focus RS500

By far the most memorable car we’ve driven this year, and not just because we drove 800 miles in 24 hours. It’s impossible to imagine how the RS500 shovels on speed until you’ve driven one – we’d swear that only an M3 or 911 Carrera upwards would be able pull away. Extra brownie points are awarded for its ability to achieve such fierce levels of acceleration while maintaining the standard RS’s gloriously granular steering and sweetly weighted controls.

The RS500 is a heart-on-the-sleeve working class hero… it’s carrying a bunch of flowers while beating someone up with beer barrel biceps. How Ford made a £35,000, FWD, 345bhp hatchback quite so appealing is a mystery. But they have.

And there’s a bigger reason to pay respect too. The RS500 marks the end of an era for all the gloriously kinky cars that are being killed because they don’t meet the Euro V emissions regulations: Mazda RX-8, Honda Civic Type-R, VW V10 TDI Touareg and Alfa Romeo 3.2 V6 – it’s a swan song for all of them. Instead of seeming like an over-specced Essex spacker-hatch designed to make some chavs have a wank, it feels like a little chunk of automotive history. It’s etched into our minds… there’s just something about it that gives it an air of importance. A moment in time.

So while Ford could have given the bonkers Focus RS a bolt-gun to the head and packed it off quietly, they didn’t. They made it more powerful, more expensive and more memorable – and that’s why it’s top of the list. Respeck.

Read our original review here.

Greatest Hits albums are generally tragic affairs. Bought as presents by clueless Aunties, they’re compiled by record labels in a bid to scrape cash from artists who can’t be arsed to write anything new. Or are dead. Tacky, unimaginative and cynical… you’d never be daft enough to buy one yourself.

So the fact that the Juke is styled as some kind of compilation is a worry. Yes, first impressions are that it’s a totally original, barking mad mentalist with lines that are as challengingly cock-eyed as Natalie Cassidy’s face… but look closer.

It’s just a Greatest Hits album. A 370Z’s rear lights. A Qashqai’s chunkiness. A Murano’s techo-oddness. The top spec Juke even has GT-R DNA in its torque vectoring 4×4 system. As excellent as the ingredients are, they’re not new. It may as well be called ‘Nissan’s Best: The 21st Century So Far…’

So. Does that mean it’ll just be bought as a present by your Auntie? And does it just warrant the response ‘I’m sure it’s great… but I’d prefer some new songs actually.’? No. Because thanks to some weird aesthetic alchemy, the Juke is the first ever Greatest Hits that feels box fresh.

Dynamically, the Juke pulls off a smart trick – ‘semi-command’ loftiness without too much wobble and thunk. The way it mixes ride height, agility and comfort is no revolution, and it can’t match the exquisitely damped balance of the lower-down Ford Fiesta, but it still feels fresh under your bum. Different, fun and good.

It’s tidy inside too. While the Juke doesn’t have door cards made of natural sponge or seats trimmed with albino bison leather, the flashes of colour and motorbike-petrol tank style transmission tunnel make it look like something new instead of a Nissan ‘Best Of’ re-hash.

The Juke even does tedious things like making sense as an affordable, practical car. Costing from £13k to £20k, it’s well priced to take on alternative superminis like the Mini, Citroen DS3 and Audi A1. And as the Juke’s basic shape is just a square box, it’s actually more spacious to sit in than any of them.

Despite no single part of it being revolutionary, the Juke still feels sparkly and exciting. So while its Audi A1 rivalling price lumps it into the ‘premium supermini’ class of cars that are posher but objectively no better than a Fiesta, its actually unpretentious enough to cut a dash all of its own.

Nissan have made something very unusual – a greatest hits album you actually want to buy.

To many, the lasting memory of Paris 2010 will be of Naomi Campbell vacantly smiling at a Lotus Esprit like it was a child with one eye. Baffled, almost sympathetic – but generally indifferent. To us though, even the A-list weirdness of new-era Lotus is forgettable. What’s clinging to the inside of our skulls is driving there and back in a Focus RS500. The big black Ford is a horrendous bastard of the highest order… and it’s totally fucking brilliant.

But also tinged with sadness. Dressed entirely in black, the RS500 mourns the demise of the Focus RS and its gargling baritone of a five-cylinder engine. For a mainstream model, the RS was actually pretty controversial. ‘Pah! It won’t be able to handle the power! The torque steer will give you tennis elbow!’ yelped car fans with sheltered lives; ‘it’ll amputate your arms and storm off into a ditch’ they continued, ignorantly. And that was just about the standard 300bhp car. The RS500 has another 45bhp, not to mention 15lb ft more torque. Only 500 will be made and it costs an almost unbelievable £35,000. Yet it’s still brill.

Picture the scene. You’re at Beaconsfield services, in the rain, at 11pm and all you want to do is reach a warm bed in Maidstone. Car brimmed, you approach the M25 entry slip. Because you’re bored, not to mention curious about how 345bhp could possibly be applied to damp tarmac via two front wheels, you check the mirrors and stop, right at the start of he slip road. Then, with traction control optimistically switched off, you nail the best getaway possible. Like you’ve just robbed a Post Office.

Bwaaarpp-ba-ba… tsshh… Bwaaaaaaaaarrpp… tsssh… bwaaaaaaaaaaaaarp… you’re doing the speed limit. 0-62 in 5.4 seconds. Apart from the judder of axle tramp (which incidentally, is no worse here than in a DSG equipped Golf GTI), and a swerve through the lorry ruts it happens cleanly, smartly and without a hernia. Of course, just like even a rear wheel drive car with over 300bhp, you can’t just hoof the throttle and slam the clutch without ultimately looking like a bit of a tit – but the RS500’s extra turbo boost, bigger fuel pump and fatter exhausts haven’t made it undriveable.

What they have done is make it disgustingly quick. Through 3rd, 4th and 5th, it’s M3 fast. Unhinged, nobs turned up to 11, laugh out loud even on the M20 at midnight fast. Its stability is phenomenal too. While at town speeds the steering could benefit from a quicker rack, at velocities where the RS500 beggars belief, it’s perfect.

Micro-adjustments in the fast lane are second nature. You never actually consider how much input the steering needs to change lane or tackle a sweeping bend, you just turn the wheel and it moves instantly and gracefully. No twitching, no nervousness, no delay – just great steering with a natural feel.

When you get off the motorway and stop marvelling at the speed, steering and stability, the RS500 shows off its talent as an urban magnet for admiration, camera phones and ‘rev it’ hand gestures… even from surly Parisians. We parked it right in front of the Eiffel Tower and a tourist actually asked to have his picture taken next to the car instead of the iconic French landmark.

Through the horrendous jam that is La Peripherique, it’s just as easy to drive as a standard RS, which in turn is just as forgiving as any other Focus on sale. A light clutch, progressive brakes and lots of windows to see out of. It even treats you to parking sensors and a reversing camera, to help avoid scuffing the matt black wrap when parking at the Porte de Versailles.

Then a motorshow happened. Lamborghini released a fake car we thought would be real. Porsche showed a car with spinal curvature. Ferrari took the roof off a 599. Jaguar made the world’s first fictional hybrid with jet turbines. Ford showed off a four cylinder Focus ST that makes the RS500 look even more special. And Brian May made five very similar looking new cars from Lotus all smell off hairspray. After all that, it was time to drive back. Paris back to Brum.

Most of the return journey was a blur – but we can’t talk about it for legal reasons. Some toll booths. Darkness. 20mpg. Driving from full to empty without stopping. A tunnel. A game of Angry Birds. The M20. A panini. The M25. The M40. The M6. And then, coming off a junction early for Birmingham at 1:30am. Brilliant.

If you ever drive to the middle of Birmingham from junction 5 of the M6, you might have already discovered the series of roundabouts that start at Castle Bromwich, go past Fort Shopping Park, through Nechells and into the City centre. If you’re a cock with a Saxo, you’ll already go there every Sunday night to compare neon lights with your dickhead mates. These are the best urban roundabouts in the country… and at 1:30am there’s nobody else to bother you.

First, you’re forced to stand on the brakes as you hit the left-hand exit slip-road towards lights that are always red. Sit. Wait. Then tackle the wide roundabout, right at the top of second gear. Half throttle pulls a tight line, 3/4 throttle forces the front wide with inside wheel scrabbling. Take the third exit, grabbing third gear after the apex. Heading back under the M6 now, towards the Spitfire roundabout and Jaguar plant… there’s a tight left after the hill has crested. If you don’t know it’s there, you best phone the paint shop.

Take it in second, again finding the inside wheel’s traction point and breaking it just for fun. Now a blat to the top of third as you pass Fort Dunlop. The wall is high to your left, and the car sounds frightening and awesome. Straight over the next roundabout at the Bentley dealer, in third. Up the hill, hoping the lights at the next roundabout are green. They are. Entering with a slither of brake pressure, the back is firmly tied down… jolt on some more lock, feather the throttle, lift off to try and provoke some tail swinging action – but the RS500 is having none of it.

The next roundabout is on the crest of a hill, and a very easy one to get violently wrong – as we came very close to experiencing in an R33 Skyline GT-R last year. Full throttle would see any car crash… so we give it as much as we dare and it sticks. Change direction quickly to take the exit, the front snuffling for grip as wet tarmac turns into rough, damp concrete. Grip increased, the throttle touches floor mat for just long enough to see third gear… and a speed camera. Brakes on, fun over. The last trickle into the city is taken with a heart rate far quicker than our speed.

Yes, a normal RS could have covered the ground very nearly as quickly and would have required less concentration to do so. But the times where the RS500’s massive power is a glorious pleasure far outweigh the occasions where it’s unusable or a burden. It’s expensive, ridiculous, tacky, does less than 30mpg and looks like the type of character who’d draw a cock and balls on a gravestone. But that’s exactly what it should be – a tribute to the RS, with a personality that’s a caricature of what makes that car so great. The RS500 is the naughtiest epitaph ever written.

Ginger hair, NHS specs and buck teeth. That’s what the Renault Wind would be blessed with on its first day at school. Such an easy car to bully.

Mocked for having a hunched back. Teased for its ridiculously flatulent name. Giggled at for its piddly 1.2 or 1.6 petrol engines. But, much like the best victims of bullying, the Wind has a few tricks that help fend off the cussing and let it start pulling punches of its own.

For a start, the roof is brilliant. Like the Ferrari Superamerica, it’s a one-piece flip top that hinges at the back window – in 12 seconds it emerges from under its cover on top of the boot, swings over the seats and attaches to the windscreen. You’ve got to close the final latch yourself, but unlike every other folding hard top, the roof doesn’t bulge into the boot when it’s down. Smart, quick and practical… easily outsmarts the bullies.

It’s even better when you drive it. The Wind uses RenaultSport Twingo running gear, which in turn means it shares a lot of bushes, bolts and funlinks with the goosebumpingly lovely Clio 182. Roof up, there’s no noticeable body shimmy – just massive clumps of grip, a tweakable rear end and a snuffly front. It’s the most chuckable front wheel drive convertible I’ve ever driven.

There’s some scuttle wobble with the roof down, and the steering’s not the most granular, but it wazzes in the eyes of Tigras, 207CCs and other such drivel wagons. A ninja’s roundhouse kick to the teasing fatties.

Starting at £15,500, the Wind is cheaper than its comparatively terrible rivals too. It’s worth paying a grand extra to upgrade from a 100bhp 1.2 to the ferociously revvy 133bhp 1.6 from the Twingo Cup, but matching its performance in a 207CC would cost another two grand on top. And the Peugeot drives like a soggy tissue in comparison.

So… any reasons to tease the Wind at all? Well yes. The interior is made of melted down Smartie lids. You can’t see anything over your shoulder. And no matter how hard you press the clutch, the gearbox occasionally snags its cogs. But that’s it.

If tedious twazbags hadn’t started referring to everything from eating a Wispa to watching Wheeler Dealers as a guilty pleasure, then that’s what I’d call the Wind. But I won’t. It might be an unusual car to like, but it’s not going to make you feel as guilty or happy as snorting cocaine off a French prostitute’s left breast. Although it could probably go topless in about the same time as her.

The moral of the story? Don’t be a bully. Or you’ll be attacked by a ferocious little fart.

There’s so much to say about the new Hybrid version of Porsche’s most controversial car that a review could easily fill the whole Internet. Nobody would read it to the end, nobody would gain anything from it and we’d have wasted our time. So, to avoid the bother and prove that no car review needs to be longer than 500 words, this one’s 499.

To address the fact that the old Cayenne was too heavy, too ugly and too poorly furnished, Porsche have released a new model that’s up to 180kg lighter, much sleeker to look at and infinitely posher to sit in. And to address the fact that it was a total bastard to the environment, they’ve made a Hybrid version. Sounds perfect.

But it’s not – there are two big problems. First, it’s the least satisfying model to drive. And second, despite the 3.0l supercharged V6 engine being the smallest in the range, and despite it being assisted by a 34kw electric motor and hybrid drivetrain, it’s actually less economical than the Cayenne Diesel. Oh, and at £57k it’s also £13k more expensive than the Diesel. So the Hybrid’s pointless. Right?

Well yes. But also no. Just like every hybrid, it depends on where you drive it.

On roads where other Porsches shine, the Cayenne is flawed. Not because it’s the heaviest model, or because it’s the only one with electric rather than hydraulic power steering – what really sucks enjoyment out of the Cayenne Hybrid is the droning engine note and the distracting commotion of hybrid electronics you can feel through the brakes and throttle.

Brush the brake pedal lightly and it seems to slow through magnetic resistance instead of friction; press harder and only a greater sense of deceleration makes you believe the actual brake discs are doing anything. A similarly numb inconsistency affects the throttle, but is less severe. The engine can go from purely turning the wheels, to charging the battery while turning the wheels, to being switched off totally if you’re coasting, to working at maximum power with electric assistance… all with one flex of the right ankle. The motor swapping is masked well, but never totally disguised.

Yet all that’s forgiven when you get into traffic and drive around on electro-juice alone. Like a Prius, the Cayenne has a parallel Hybrid system in which some MENSA powered clutches allow the electric motor to turn the wheels without turning the engine as a slave and therefore wasting energy.

So while its combined economy of 34mpg is worse than the Diesel’s 38, and its 193g/km CO2 figure only 2g better, the Hybrid gets better as the traffic gets thicker; the slower you go, the more chance you have of running without using any fuel. Press the E-Power button and the car will propel you for as long as possible on electricity alone. With suitably gentle driving across a city, we covered 1.1 miles without a spark plug firing once. On one gentle journey, we even hit 38.7mpg at an average speed of 15mph. You wouldn’t get that in a diesel. Or in a Fiesta for that matter.

So the Hybrid lacks the dynamics and mechanical intuition that Porschefiles get clammy over, but has the talent, badges and technology to give City types something to boast about. In the end then, it’s not actually that different from any other Cayenne.

Cliff Bloody Richard. No matter how much abuse critics give him for the drivelly nonsense that oozes from his anodyne musical pores, and no matter how much he looks like a creepy PE teacher, he just won’t stop. It’s the same with coupe convertibles – the fact that critics pan them for having useless boots, floppy dynamics and cramped back seats doesn’t seem to matter… they just keep coming.

So there’s no point in us noting that the new Renault Megane CC has the exact same faults as every other coupe cabriolet in existence – because folk who write about cars clearly know nothing about what makes normal humans like them. To really tell you whether or not the Renault Megane CC is worth buying, we need to find out what makes people ignore the faults of such flawed products and love them anyway. Should be easy. Cliff Richard has been flawed but loved for decades… we’ll just use his qualities as a framework. The Cliff Criteria.

Much of Cliff’s adoration comes from his ability to remind people of their youth, thus making them feel young again. Here, the Megane CC is exceptional. For a start, it feels incredibly large to sit in – this makes the driver think they’re smaller and therefore much younger. Also, because of the Megane’s excellent wind proofing and refinement with the roof both up and down, it also makes the driver feel protected, cocooned and cared for. Like a loved child.

It doesn’t stop there. Thanks to a glass roof and a button that drops all four windows at once, occupants always have the option of bright sunshine and fresh air… much like the option many children had of running round a playground or field or playing hopscotch or catch or something. A hayfever induced snotty nose is also a very real possibility.

Another key element in Cliff’s success is his keenness to embellish his imperfect face with a raft of cosmetic modifications. Again, the Megane CC follows Cliff’s lead. Despite having to hide the sins of a folding roof, the rear of the new Megane CC is styled reasonably cleanly. Just like with Cliff’s face, closer inspection reveals some inconsistencies in the way its lines flow from one end to the other, but the overall effect is pleasant enough.

Cliff is also keen to maintain an aura of athleticism, without ever actually having to exert himself – for example, while he is a fan of tennis, he is definitely not a tennis player. This is perhaps where the Megane follows his lead the closest. With the roof up, the Renault Megane CC is lithe, direct and energetic with a decent impression of agility.

But just like Cliff, this impression of athleticism doesn’t translate to any genuine sporting ability – the Megane’s default gait is one suited to a relaxed, meandering stroll. It’s also worth noting that when it goes topless, it has a tendency to shudder – much like Cliff would if he were to go topless on a cold day.

That awkward image brings us on to the difficult subject of mental aptitude. Despite his progressing years, Cliff has maintained a presence of mind that serves him well during public appearances… but his judgement isn’t perfect. Remember Millenium Prayer? That was NOT the result of an entirely rational mind. Again, the Megane CC treads in Cliff’s footsteps.

The complex 21 second routine that sees the roof fold itself away is completed with great mental agility – the Renault never, for example, forgets where it put the roof only to remember it’s actually sitting in the boot. But, just like Cliff did with the Millenium Prayer, the Megane CC does have some lapses in judgement. Despite being based on excellent Tom Tom software, the sat nav has little logic or sense to its operation, and the stereo is dim witted, slow to respond, always frustrating and often plain confusing.

Now to the final Cliff category, his premium price tag – people like to think they’re buying into something special. Tickets for his next concert (Royal Albert Hall on Monday 11th October Cliff fans), start off at the substantial price of £45. For comparison, Cliff’s more fashionable and critically acclaimed contemporary Tom Jones has tickets costing as little as £35.

For the Renault to follow Cliff’s lead it also needs to be more expensive than a more fashionable and critically acclaimed contemporary – which in this case is the VW Eos. And somewhat surprisingly, it is. The Renault Megane CC’s entry level price £21,595, which is actually £900 more than that of the VW Eos. The rest of the Renault’s range is more evenly matched to the VW’s – but for those looking for the cheapest possible way of buying such a car, the VW is the best option. Cliff would be proud of such confident pricing.

All of these similarities to Cliff means that despite the problems the Megane CC shares with all of its rivals, it will be a success. It makes you feel young, has had reasonable cosmetic modifications, feels pleasantly athletic without making you sweat, is intelligently designed but not always perfectly judged and comes with a premium price tag. But there’s one key difference. When it’s raining in Wimbledon, the Megane CC won’t be able to entertain the crowd with some music. Because, out of pure frustration, its driver will have smashed the stereo apart with a mallet.

‘Dat the new vRS?’, yaps the intricately bearded man waiting at the lights in a lowered 318Ci, ‘I been waiting to see one of dem man’. Fake Armani shades now lifted, his pupils pour over the Kermit paint job and, quite surprisingly, he doesn’t piss himself laughing. ‘Yeah looks sweet, nice rims. Open it up man’. So I do. Leave him for dead and leave me totally bewildered.

With a goopy face, under wheeled profile and self-conscious black roof, I expected the Fabia vRS to hit the streets with a handicap – but sitting at the lights outside a fried chicken shop in Birmingham, it’s the hottest piece of metal around. P Diddy could drive an R8 Spyder straight past unnoticed.

There’s more heckling at a petrol station in Kent, this time from an Accord Type S owner with even finer facial topiary than 318Ci man. ‘Nice car mate… petrol innit, what does it do?’. Being a massive geek, my answer is accurate; ‘7.3 seconds to 60, 139mph top end’. He replies in a tone of disgust, like I’d just told him my favourite hobby was rubbing crude oil into the eyes of rare sea birds ‘yeah, but what about to the gallon mate?’. Right. ‘They say 45mpg combined, but I’m getting mid 30s’ I reply in my politest voice. ‘Nah, I’d rather have the old diesel version then’.

He’s got a point. The first Fabia vRS, this car’s famously diesel predecessor, could be coaxed into hitting 60mpg. Standing in the shadow of a sign that puts petrol at £1.23 a litre, it’s hard to see the sense in replacing it with a car that does half that. That’s not the end of it though – there’s one more spontaneous talking head. Haven’t had this much attention since driving a Bentley Continental GT Speed to ASDA.

‘You see mate, you’ve made a mistake there’ said a Geordie over my shoulder, clearly thinking I’d bought it with my own money. Turning round to put face to voice, he’s wearing a Subaru cap – this man REALLY knows about cars. ‘Same as a Polo GTI that is… and yeah it’s two k cheaper on paper like… but what’s that monthly? Bet it’s nothing man. I’d pay the extra fiver or whatever and have the Dub fella’. Turns out Skoda badge snobbery isn’t completely dead after all… at least not amongst rude Geordies.

Being three potential customers who actually hand over money for their new cars, they are of course all absolutely right. The new vRS is good looking and quick, but has two big problems – it’s not a diesel and it’s not cheap enough.

First, the diesel thing. The Fabia’s 178bhp twincharger petrol engine is a brilliant thing, especially when synced up with the equally brilliant DSG gearbox – but it doesn’t feel as happy in the vRS as it does in the Ibiza Cupra, which to man-on-street is only a fiver a month more to buy. On occasions where you’d slip the SEAT into manual mode and parp about using the paddles, you leave the slightly taller, softer and calmer feeling Skoda in auto, where it upchanges early. The more laidback chassis wants a laidback, and frugal, diesel engine.

Which brings us onto problem two – it’s not cheap enough. At £15,700 it is £1300 less than the Cupra and a couple of grand less than a Polo GTI (both of which, as Subaru hat man pointed out, share a powertrain and a great deal of chassis bolts)… but, to man-on-street with a monthly payment plan, that’s not a big enough incentive to turn down a posher badge – especially when the fuel consumption, tax and insurance will be the same. What he wants is a hot hatch that’s not only cheaper to buy, but cheaper to run. He wants a diesel engine too.

Just imagine Skoda put VAG’s 140bhp 2.0TDI engine into a Fabia and then slapped a vRS badge on that. It’d hit 60 in the mid 8s, do 50mpg and be even cheaper to buy in the first place. It’d be a genuine, economical but still reasonably quick alternative to the Polo GTI and Ibiza Cupra, instead of a cheaper, less desirable version of the same thing.

So, thanks for the help 318Ci man, Accord Type S man and Subaru hat man. You’ve forced us to awkwardly conclude that despite being cheaper than two almost identical cars, and despite being fitted with an engine that’s just been awarded International Engine of the Year 2010, the Skoda Fabia vRS should cost less and have a different engine. Hilarious.

Let’s get the obvious out of the way with first. Skoda haven’t made a rubbish car for a decade, and the Superb name is neither new or inaccurate, so don’t scoff at that either. Alright? Good. Now we can get on.

Based on last year’s all new saloon, this is the first ever Superb Estate – and it’s proper, genuinely, 100% totally bloody amazing. Not in a ‘oh yeah… that Skoda’s really brilliant… I mean, ha, fancy Skoda making a good car’ way. Not in a ‘I suppose it’s an impressive achievement considering its price’ way either. But in a ‘Shit. Really. Where an earth did that come from? Wow’ way. If you want an analogy, this is their iPhone – a product that does absolutely everything, redefining the brand all over again.

Seeing as sycophantic reviews always sound rubbish, we’ll stay factual, measured and objective… and being as it’s an estate, we’ll start with the boot. The Superb’s rear measures 633 litres with the seats up and 1865 litres with the seats down – massive. But unless you frequently carry around fresh air or litre bottles of water, that’s all meaningless. So have some reference points:

Volvo’s biggest current estate is the V70 – with the seats up it’s got a 575 litre boot, rising to 1600 when they’re down. So the Superb Estate has a bigger boot than the biggest Volvo. Fact. That also makes it bigger than an A6 Avant, new BMW 5 Touring, Ford Mondeo Estate, Vauxhall Insignia Sports Tourer and VW Passat Estate. In fact, the only estate on sale today with a bigger boot is the new Mercedes E-Class.

So we’ll use the big-E as a reference point for price, interior quality and equipment – a Mercedes is a tough benchmark for a Skoda to match after all. The cheapest Superb Estate is the 1.4 TSI at £18k, rising to the most expensive £30k 3.6 V6. The very cheapest E-Class Estate is also £30k, in the shape of the E200 CGI 4-cyl petrol. A handy comparison.

The interior of the Skoda is better to look at, nicer to touch and more intuitive to use than the Merc’s. Less tacky, better damped, more ergonomic. There’s more kit in it too, including the best touch screen entertainment system of any car on sale anywhere, standard fit sat nav and the flawless DSG gearbox from VW. If you want sat nav and auto in the Merc, you’ll need to spend another £2,500.

But you still won’t have the Skoda’s performance – the V6 has 260bhp and cracks 62mph in just 6.6 seconds. Through the gears, using the massive 258lb ft hunk of torque that’s spread right across the middle of the rev range, you’ll outrun most hot hatches that bother to try. The £30k Merc is 80bhp and 60lb ft down as well as two seconds slower to 62mph… a Merc with similar performance and similar kit costs over £40k. Crikey.

Of course though, you’d be a little mad to buy a brand new V6 car with an mpg figure in the 20s when petrol costs £1.20 a litre. As quick as it might be, it’s not worth the pleasure. What you should really get is the sensible 140bhp diesel which, even when you’ve added the DSG box, costs less than £25k in top-spec Elegance trim.

With the double clutch set-up, the diesel Superb is just as smooth as the V6, barely noisier, cracks 60mph in 10 secs and is still effortlessly torquey – but it’s quoted at 51.4mpg combined. The most economical, cheapest Merc estate diesel is over £6,000 more expensive, 5mpg worse off and only 1 second quicker to 62mph. Its auto box isn’t as smooth as the Skoda’s automated manual either.

Bored of the praise yet? Sorry. It’s nearly over. We’re labouring the point just to make sure you don’t under-estimate quite how brilliant the Skoda is. The E-Class Estate hasn’t been used because it’s an easy benchmark to beat and prove a point – it’s been used because it’s currently the best premium estate on sale, and because it therefore gets the closest to matching the Skoda’s ginormous spread of talent.

So, bad points then. Erm… literally? No. Space, refinement, speed, price, economy, ergonomics, equipment, quality and even styling are all beyond criticism. This is a real second coming for Skoda. After the revelation at the beginning of the last decade that they can make cars as good as anyone else, they’ve now gone and shown that they can actually make cars better than anyone else.

If you can think of another estate that can do everything the Superb does, please let us know. If not, then let’s all form a loyal band of disciples and worship the new Messiah of Estates. If Apple geeks can call the iPhone the Jesus phone, can’t us car geeks call the Superb Estate the Jesus car? You don’t get a brolly in the door of an iPhone anyway.

There’s a chicken/egg parallel to the premium supermini market. What came first; the new Mini, or the public’s lust for a posh small car? Almost definitely the former. The car came first, BMW made us want it and now it’s King of the Cocks – a shiny feathered man hen that everyone wants a piece of. Which makes the Citroen DS3 a hungry, wily fox.

And it’s got a lot to do… even after nearly a decade of lording it about the farm on its own, the Mini is yet to be faced with a fox to match it. The Fiat 500 is cheap and cuddly but a bit soft. The Alfa MiTo has an 8C’s face but is secretly rubbish to drive. And the Audi A1 looks great but doesn’t exist yet. The DS3 could be the first bushy tailed urban warrior with a full quota of Mini chomping teeth.

It’s certainly got a wide enough grin… and that counts for a lot when appealing to the clutch-bagged shoppers who want a Mini. LED daytime running lights set the DS3 up with a tarty, glitzy look that only gets more impressive as you head to further down its plumage. Chrome door handles look posh; half-cut, forward leaning B-pillars look mad and smartly surfaced bejewelled lights and badges out-style the Mini in one glance. Fox is sexier than the Cock.

That’s half of the battle won, really. But not all of it. Because Citroen, despite their ginormous improvements over the past few years, still have the slight whiff of ‘value’ around them… and ‘value’ doesn’t sit well with ‘premium’. So, it’s actually a good thing that the DS3 isn’t an awful lot cheaper than a Mini.

Prices start at £11,700 for a 95bhp 1.4VTi petrol with 95bhp – £500 less than the Mini One with similar power, and go up to £15,600 for a 110bhp 1.6HDi diesel with 110bhp – £750 more than a Mini Cooper D with similar power. Awkwardly, or perhaps cleverly, the best DS3, our £15,900, 150bhp 1.6 petrol sneaks into the middle ground between the Cooper and Cooper S for both price and power. Wily, wily Fox avoiding direct Cock comparison.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that Citroen didn’t want their fastest DS3 to square right up to either of the sporty Minis – because even after some sharpening up, the C3 chassis which underpins the DS3 can’t perform the some hot-footed chicken dance as the Mini. It’s not overly baggy or dull, but there’s a touch more body roll, an inch more squat and dive than you’d get in a Mini andless feel through the steering. The upside is a slightly more compliant ride, but there’s no mpg payoff for the softer edge – 42.2mpg is good for a 150bhp petrol, but not so smart next to the 52mpg Cooper and 48mpg Cooper S.

Quite how much the average Mini driver appreciates the chassis under them is up for debate though – so, ignoring the mpg figure, maybe the DS3’s slightly softer set-up will be a good thing. Comfort lovers will prefer the Citroen’s interior too – lighter, less fussy and more spacious, and you get the sense it won’t develop rattles quite as quickly as a Mini too. The 280 litre boot makes the Mini’s 160 litre hole look like somewhere even a battery hen would baulk at too.

So is the DS3 foxy enough to take the King of the Cocks off its pedestal? Not quite. It’s got a better combination of style, space and comfort – but that can’t quite make up for the inferior dynamics and economy. The DS3 deserves to do well on the talents it’s got, but it’s going to have to hand the chicken killing responsibility to the Audi A1. It better start sharpening its teeth now.