Peugeot 208 review

We’ll start with the Hybrid. In 100bhp form it’s a sweet powertrain that matches the 208 well; peppy enough when called upon but ultimately nothing exciting. It powers all manner of other Alfas, Citroens, Fiats, Jeeps and Vauxhalls and while ubiquity ain’t exciting, it does mean it’s feeling pretty honed and developed now.

The biggest grin it’ll put on your face is when you scroll to the trip computer and find it’s averaging 47mpg if you’re regularly on brisker roads, and 55mpg if you’re more about town where the car will spend a decent amount of its time being whooshed along on e-power alone. Almost half the time, in our experience. Helpfully the speedometer readout changes from blue (EV) to white (petrol) to simply signal what power source is being used when.

Actually, it’s not ‘whoosh’. The hybrid drivetrain does occasionally make the odd beep and whine that are perhaps better concealed in bigger, more insulated cars but sometimes give the 208 the demeanour of a moody robot.

Is it comfy? Fun to drive?

Style and Allure trim offer a less bobbly ride than GT cars, and the combustion 208 as a whole is better suspended than the E-208: the suspension’s here to cushion bumps, not stop the battery slapping the floor. 

Because of the 208’s tiny steering wheel, the steering is extremely assisted, so its front end feels very eager. That means it takes a short while to warm up to, but it’s a grippy and tenacious little thing as your speed rises. So while the automatic gearbox does its best to keep up (the clunky paddles have sluggish response so are best ignored) and overall the car errs more towards gentle progress than Fiesta fizziness, there’s some honest to goodness, ‘hire car’ fun to be had here.

A sentiment at its truest in the base, 100bhp manual. The gear knob is absurdly shaped but as numerous rivals surrender fully to hybrid powertrains, there’s an inimitable charm and chutzpah to a pure petrol stick-shift supermini as it chases the revs. In base Style trim, this is demonstrated to you via a counterclockwise analogue dial – a la Noughties Aston Martins – with an illuminated red needle. 

The throttle response is muted and gearchanges don’t slot home with the alactrity of the best manuals out there, but this is good clean fun on supple suspension at a low (ish) price. Just like the French always used to knock out the park. Renault’s committed to a petrol manual with its new sixth-gen Clio too, for the record. Happy days.