Can A Crisp Morning Hoon In A Renault Clio RS 200 Convince Me That An Auto-Only Hot Hatch Is A Good Thing?

No matter how hard you try to clear your mind, there’s always some sort of overriding thought that occupies your brain before getting behind the wheel of something you’ve yet to drive. Perhaps it’s what others have said about the car, maybe it’s a feeling of excitement, or perhaps one of dread. With the prospect of driving Renault’s Clio RS200 ahead, though, I was experiencing none of these. As all I could think about was the gearbox.

Whenever the Clio RS is mentioned to me, the next thing that springs to mind is: ‘that’s the one that only comes as a dual-clutch auto.’

Now, I’ve nothing against shifting gear with a set of paddles; there are plenty of cars - big GTs, highly-strung sports machines for instance - for which this sort of transmission is perfect. But in a little B-segment hot hatch? It just doesn’t seem right.

Surely these cars should be about simple, down-to-earth fun and driver engagement, something a fancy gearbox with an extra clutch seems at odds with. I’ve already driven the Clio’s arch-rivals - the Peugeot 208 GTi and Ford Fiesta ST - so it seemed right to try out the Renault part of the equation to see if that gearbox rains on the car’s parade as much as I’d been fearing.

Even when driving on damp roads, the RS took everything I threw at it without breaking into a sweat

Happily, Renault has done the gearbox paddles properly, with a gorgeous set of aluminium shifters mounted on the steering column. No nasty little plastic items stuck to the back of the steering wheel here. But, the first time I had to use said paddles in anger, I wasn’t exactly taken aback with the performance. The 1.6-litre turbocharged four-cylinder engine is good for 197bhp and 177lb ft of torque, which should allow for a 0-62mph time of 6.7 seconds. Sounds pretty swift, but the power delivery is so linear, that it never feels hugely punchy.

I’m not convinced by the length of the gear ratios, either. Even when red-lining, the engine speed drops by too much when the next cog is selected. The changes seem a little lengthy, too, but the satisfying pops and bangs from the exhaust add to the experience.

Even if the power delivery may not be quite as dramatic as I’d like, the Clio is heroic where it matters most: the corners. Body control and grip levels are excellent, and even when driving on damp roads, the RS took everything I threw at it without breaking into a sweat.

Even in full attack mode, the car merely gave a gallic shrug as if to say whatever the French is for ‘come at me bro.’ It’s seriously impressive. The steering, meanwhile, is sharp and quick but I didn’t feel as much of the road as I was hoping for.

I also like the looks. The Fiesta ST has a particularly unfortunate chunky rump, while the 208 GTi has its unflattering angles. But as the base-spec Clio is already an aesthetically-pleasing thing, a set of side skirts, a flashier front bumper and a rear diffuser - plus a set of bigger wheels - results in by far the most handsome of the three (although CT Editor Alex will argue otherwise).

This isn’t the sort of car you drive while smiling, you pilot it with a very serious look on your face

But for all the nice looks and driving thrills, there’s one thing that’s stopping me from loving the Clio. It’s just too serious. With those ‘because racecar’ paddles, the switchable ‘sport’ and ‘race’ modes, not to mention the countless pages of real-time data (brake force, G-meter, real-time engine performance data and so on) available through the ‘Renaultsport Monitor,’ it’s very business-like about going fast.

This isn’t the sort of car you drive while smiling. You pilot it with a very serious look on your face while figuring out your strategy for taking the next bend as quickly as possible.

While my time in the Clio was limited to a road drive, I’ve no doubt that this is the hot supermini to go for if you’re into track day racing. But for me, the Fiesta is still the one I’d buy.

The RS is a touch sharper to drive than the Fiesta, has less intrusive traction control and looks nicer inside and out, but the ST feels much more at home on the road.

With a starting price of £17,250 vs the Clio’s £18,995, the Fiesta ST is also the less expensive car to buy new. It also has a punchier-feeling engine, and crucially, comes with a manual gearbox. Why is this crucial? That’s simple: as much as I enjoyed blasting around in the Clio, I always missed stirring through the gears and nailing every shift perfectly with my own limbs.