It has been extensively reworked dynamically, and is literally transformed compared with the first version. It's more handsome, too. I reckon the sharper, facelifted front looks better on the V6 than it does on any other Clio, the big headlamps appearing more in proportion when sunk into the wings that balloon out on either side. And the way the roofline dips towards the tailgate seems to emphasise the weight of the chunky 3-litre engine lodged between the box arches.

It took me a couple of drives before I finally settled on a comfortable driving position, a little closer to the wheel than I would normally choose. I was immediately impressed by the Clio's sense of integrity - not a rattle or squeak to be heard, a taut drivetrain and an overall feeling of solidity. It's supple, too, and that great big gargly V6 is wonderfully torquey from low revs, magnificently urgent at the top end, and woofles and pops softly on the overrun. It did feel a bit flat in the mid-range, though. A tankful of Optimax cured that instantly and it has been run on a diet of super-plus ever since, which the handbook advises is its preferred tipple. Given the stick that it's had, 23.5mpg seems reasonable.

It's a satisfying, heartwarming, pulse-quickening thing to find it on my driveway each morning, and an outrageous car for a company the size of Renault to be building. I can't look at it without smirking as I recall the story Peter Dron tells of VW hearing whispers that Renault was working on a 3-litre Clio. Not to be out-done, the Germans went flat-out to produce a Lupo that would also consume just three litres of petrol per 100km...

Tee, and indeed, hee. Yet the downside to having a whopping great engine where the rear seats and boot should be quickly became apparent - lift the tailgate and you are confronted by about three litres of luggage capacity. A pair of kippers would fit nicely. That's fine if you're a carefree bachelor who carries only a toothbrush and clean undies of a weekend but less satisfactory if you've got a missus and an 18-month-old boy. It's one or the other, I'm afraid, and little Evan loves it. 'Daddy car, brumm!' he giggles, all the way to nursery. The netted shelf behind the seats is just wide enough to take his folded MacLaren buggy and a limited amount of shopping can be stowed in the washing-up bowl-like plastic tub under the bonnet, so long as it's not raining, but this Clio must be the least practical hatchback in production.

But I ask you, is there a more striking, more exotically configured, more involving and characterful car on sale new today for ΂£27K? I can't think of one.