The Clio's far-out looks have a downside ΂- it's got more nooks and crannies than you can shake a stick at, which means that in winter it seems to return from even the shortest journey with half a ton of muddy gloop trapped in various orifices. So I am delighted to report that it cleans up really well, showing no signs of six hard autumn and winter months on either bodywork or wheels. Only the large silencer box, clearly on view through a wire grille at the back of the car, is letting the side down. Call me fussy, but it's already pitted and corroding and I think it looks horrible. I know of other owners who are experiencing the same disfigurement to their rear ends (cue stifled titters) so I guess the problem isn't going to go away. Happily, the ever helpful SMC Woking took the matter up with Renault UK on my behalf, and Renault has promised to inspect the offending item.

At around 4000 miles the Clio's V6 seemed to loosen quite noticeably. Where it had previously felt a bit strangled at high revs, the needle now flies around the tacho accompanied by a truly awesome howl. The flip-side is that as journeys get swifter, the fuel consumption, which I mentioned a couple of months ago, gets worse. The price you pay for having fun, I suppose.

Incidentally, I now have absolute proof that this is a genuine supercar ΂- it's a real swine to check the oil. The exercise involves yours truly diving head-first through the rear hatch and ΂- having first removed two engine covers ΂- fumbling in the farthest, darkest recess of the engine bay (okay, okay, I know ΂- one dipstick looking for another). The feeling of triumph at extracting said dipstick is soon overtaken by the realisation that it will need to be replaced by feel alone. There, didn't I tell you it was more exciting than a Porsche?