11 of the hottest Renault Clios ever built

Mere months after its launch, the Clio spawned a 137bhp, 1.8-litre 16v version. It instantly become a revered fast hatch. But it's not the one everyone covets.

Nope. For the 16v spawned the gold-wheeled icon above. Launched in 1993, it may be an old man now, yet the Clio Williams can still rival just about any hot hatch for agility and sheer entertainment.

Its association with the Williams Formula 1 team didn't extend much beyond the gold decal logos, while its bold colour scheme (there were no other options on the spec sheet) didn't suit all tastes.

But here was a hot hatch following a delightfully old school recipe – a teeny, one-tonne car with a (relatively) big, 150bhp 2.0-litre engine shoehorned up front, and not even an ABS system to help you make sense of it all. Fun with a capital F.

The Williams didn't just gain credit from its abilities, though. It was intrinsically linked with motorsport, though not because of its badge. Rather some excellent rallying cousins, some of them driven by the dextrous hands of Jean Ragnotti. If the name's unfamiliar, we highly recommend sticking it into YouTube. But only if you're able to write off the next two hours of your life...

Rallying Clios actually debuted before the Williams, and in fact inspired it. But the very best versions were based upon the blue'n'gold hatch, including this 1995 Maxi. With 275bhp from its highly tuned engine, it operated well above road specification. No wonder it was frequently seen slithering all over the place.

It also brought a sequential gearbox to the Clio. This was no stickered up hot hatch; it was a proper, grown-up rally car.

It’s not just rallying, though; the Clio has been the star of the Clio Cup one-make series for the whole of its 25 years.

It continues to be the support series of the British Touring Car Championship, and drivers who shine in the little French hatch often graduate to the series that headlines their racing weekend. And you can count Nicolas Hamilton - brother of Lewis - among its famous faces.

Just like its donor road car, the Clio Cup racers have matured significantly in size and tech over the years, but the no-holds-barred efforts of their drivers has remained a constant. Often, the action can outshine the more senior series that follows it on the schedule…

The second-generation Clio was bigger and more grown-up than the car it succeeded.

But it arrived just as hot hatches were fashionable again, shorn of the hideous insurance premiums opposed on them in the 1990s.

The first of many hot MkII Clios was this, the 172. The number denotes its power – 172bhp from a 2.0-litre naturally aspirated engine – while you had a choice of stripped-out Cup trim or (slightly) more luxurious versions. All were a giggle, and you can pick them up now for less than two grand. You really should.

Similarites with the car before were very, very few. The V6 swapped front- for rear-wheel drive, traded a 2.0-litre four-cylinder engine for a 3.0-litre V6 with as much as 255bhp, and plonked it inside the cabin, in place of the rear seats.

This ensured a) a very involving soundtrack and b) exceedingly frisky handling characteristics requiring gumption and gritted teeth. So wide it’s almost square, the V6 could (and possibly still can) out-exotic many a supercar.

Given how beaten up Renault was by the recession, such bonkers bravery is, we suspect, a thing of the past. And that’s sad.

After the V6, the 182 saw a return to front-drive, front-engine convention.

But if you can ignore 2005-vintage Fernando Alonso and his lustrous perm, you'll find a superb hot hatch: brilliantly suspended on expensive, touring car-esque dampers, a lusty 2.0-litre engine, and handling finely balanced between feisty and friendly.

Arguably the peak of fast Clio fun. No wonder Renault’s tried to rekindle the magic associated with Trophy badging on its latest fast Clio.

A running theme, perhaps, but the Clio grew up considerably for generation three.

And while the Renaultsport version's power climbed to nearly 200bhp – still rather a lot in hot-hatch-land back in 2006 – there was a notable new maturity to the Clio which meant it never quite made the impact of its predecessors.

But with the contemporary Fiesta ST and Corsa VXR down on power and panache respectively, it still managed to keep its head held high…

… and it only took a slightly revvier engine and some suspension tweaks for the 197 to morph into this, one of the greatest hot hatchbacks of all time.

The Clio 200's styling may be drab from angles, and its interior a little crummy, but these are things completely and utterly overshadowed by arguably the sharpest hot hatch chassis of this millenium, as well as its most hard-edged, rev-hungry engine and its most satisfying gearchange.

Every element of the Clio 200 complemented the next, and the end result was one of the most complete and satisfying driving experiences at any price. Read how to buy a good 'un here.

With all of that in mind, the Clio 200’s newer namesake failed to hit the spot. There was the supremely talented Ford Fiesta ST, whose shadow it had to compete in, but there were deeper issues.

An even-more-mature MkIV Clio meant five doors only, while increasing environmental pressure killed off that glorious old naturally aspirated engine, in its place a 1.6-litre turbo equal in power, but far stronger in torque.

Renault's chassis mastery was still in evidence – with the addition of better ride quality – while the interior was a vast step on. But the new 200’s Achilles heel? Its paddleshift gearbox, hamstrung by reactions tardy enough to suffocate the engine's bigger lungs.

Hardly a bad car - a good one, in fact - but with a family tree like that, the Clio always had some big hot hatch shoes to fill.

Ah, much better. The 220 Trophy fixed some of the 200's ills, with a far snappier gearbox and sharper responses from its uprated engine. It was still paddleshift only, to the chagrin of anyone who likes a manual (surely all hot hatch fans), but it evidenced that the Renaultsport team will listen to feedback.

The chassis was sublime, too. It remainsedmore grown-up than its flighty, occasionally skittish predecessors, but the grip and damping were just lovely, and it still proved adjustable if you can find a circuit to take it to.

Ah, what could have been. What should have been.

If you think this Clio RS16 looks like a mini racecar, that's because it basically is. Fitting the 271bhp 2-litre turbo engine from the (then) wildest Megane on sale required some substantial mechanical upgrades, and a number of them came from motorsport, as well as the 275 Trophy R itself.

No seats in the back, proper harnessed race buckets up front and the return of manual gearboxes to fast Clios were among its other highlights. Production seemed certain, until Renault decided to spend the RS16's portion of production capacity on speeding up the Alpine line in Dieppe. Lovely as the A110 is, we'd trade a few hundred of its population for a limited-run of these. Especially given the Clio RS might not be a thing at all in the future, potentially replaced by an electric hot hatch. What a swansong this would have been.