The topic must come up at least once a month. It starts off innocently enough - a link is sent to a tempting example for sale and it takes all of sixty seconds before the floodgates open. Important, work-related emails are shoved to the bottom of the queue as the merits of everything from abused Phase Ones to pristine, £20,000 182 Trophy’s are discussed. None are criticised; just prioritised.

Colours to the mast, we are huge fans of a Renaultsport Clio. I’ve had three. A black 172 I killed, a blue 182 that gave up the ghost, and my personal favourite - a 172 Cup that’s still alive & kicking. Alex had a 197 Cup that he still talks about in the manner of a long-lost girlfriend who got away. Chris is still under the RS spell with his R26 Megane but cut his teeth behind the wheel of another 182. We’re prepared to stick our neck out onto the chopping block and call it the greatest hot hatch of all time, such is our admiration and memories generated behind the wheel. Only newcomer John is the lone dissenter, banging the Type-R drum loud & proud. Given such affection, one can imagine that it took all of a nanosecond to pull rank when the offer came in to review a Trophy.

172bhp might not seem like a headline-grabbing figure anymore, but back in January 2000 shoehorning a 2.0 16v into a B segment supermini was considered a Ron Burgundy level of big deal. At the turn of the century, the hot hatch market was in a state of flux - Peugeot had persisted with its excellent 306 Rallye and GTI-6, but crippling insurance premiums turned buyers towards more fashionable coupes. The nadir was best summed up by the 2.0 MkIV Golf GTI, which pumped out the same power as the 1975 original despite weighing about as much as a passing moon.

Many wondered if the computer Renault used to type the press release had caught a case of the millennium bug - the previous torch bearer for the demure hot hatch was the 106 Gti with all of 116 bhp. With nearly fifty per cent more power, the straight-line performance had just taken a giant Gallic leap forward – the 172, with just 1030 kg to carry, blitzed to 60mph in six-and-a-half seconds. A Ford Racing Puma, for all its cornering prowess, was left gasping for air. Only Honda’s 2001 introduction of the 197 bhp Civic Type R, arguably from the class size above, could hold a candle to the rampant little Clio. By the time the lightweight 172 Cup came along in 2002, even the new Subaru Impreza WRX Turbo came off second best in a sprint to 100mph, and the little French Bulldog only cost £12,995. It was impossible to go faster for less.

Reception for the Phase One was glowing, with journalists praising its chassis and raw pace but singling out steering that just fell short of the lofty bar set by its predecessor, the Williams. The facelift Phase II introduced a more chiselled nose, but for many, it's the weakest link of the litter - the kerb weight spiralled as Renault upped the toy count, whilst expensive performance tweaks such as the aluminium bonnet quietly disappeared. The lightweight, 15-inch OZ Racing alloy wheels also made way for a sober 16-inch design of Renault origin that had more in common with the base 1.2L. To compensate for the added luxuries, Renaultsport shortened the final drive to bring the acceleration back up to par.

The 2002 Cup sought to recapture the lost edge by adopting Porsche’s Club Sport philosophy – ditching the mod cons, fitting thinner glass, stripping out the sound deadening and fancy seat material, and overhauling the suspension. In total, an impressive 89 kg was cut from the kerb weight and consequently, the Cup scorched to 60 mph in 6.2s in Autocar's road test.

Controversially, Dieppe also deleted the antilock braking system. Renaultsport’s justification for losing the assisted stoppers was serious track drivers would prefer a more natural-feeling middle pedal, a curious omission yet one that removes any doubts over the model’s intentions. The track width was up 10mm courtesy of the new, utterly gorgeous 16-inch Speedline Turini alloy wheels whilst the geometry was tweaked and the spring rates stiffened. With its exclusive Mondial blue paint, additional front splitter and taller rear spoiler the Cup is a pent-up ball of energy, a rolling Sonic the Hedgehog of a car.

More 182 Trophy trials and tribulations:

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Daily driving an appreciating, modern classic hot hatch seemed like such a good idea at the time. Some say there is a fine line between insanity and genius...12,000 miles later, Craig adds up all the bills and crunches the numbers on his Renault Clio 182 Trophy.

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Ever wonder what life would be like daily-driving one of the finest modern classic hot hatches of all time? 21-months into Clio 182 Trophy ownership, Craig is beginning to question his sanity.

The 182 was Renault’s attempt at blending the aggression of the One and Cup with the relative refinement of the ‘full fat’. The extra 10 bhp was liberated courtesy of a new 4-2-1 manifold, a freer-flowing catalytic converter and revised ECU calibration. Peak torque now came in 250 rpm sooner whilst the rear gained the now infamous protruding twin cannon exhaust.

But it was the chassis that saw the biggest revisions. For the first time, buyers could specify the suspension setup from the Cup on a standard car and the Cup aero package was also available as an optional extra. A dedicated 182 Cup was introduced but it didn’t take its brief as seriously this time around - the WeightWatchers programme only cut 30 kg from the weigh-in, thanks to the poverty spec trim and deletion of air con and Xenon's. ABS remained this time around but so did the heavier regular alloy wheels, and the track width didn’t swell. A 182 with the Cup packages ticked thus became the sweet spot of the range, the best of both worlds.

Perhaps Renaultsport was keeping its powder dry for the Clio’s crowning glory, which came in 2005 with the introduction of the Trophy. A limited-edition model of just 500 for the UK market, with another 50 later produced for Switzerland, the Trophy upped the ante considerably. Taking the Cup as a starting point, Renaultsport fitted Recaro Trendline bucket seats and mounted them 10 mm lower, the racy Turini alloys also reappeared, this time dipped in anthracite paint. The Clio V6 donated its rear spoiler whilst the side skirts carried trophy decals, and you could have your Trophy in any colour you liked so long as it was the exclusive Capsicum Red metallic.

The real game-changer was the switch to Sachs remote reservoir dampers on the front axle. These expensive £1,400-a-side dampers featured a monotube set-up with increased fluid capacity. This meant the damper rod could be thicker, optimising body control and compliance over a wider operating window, with little to no flex under heavy braking or hard cornering. Renaultsport then added hydraulic bump stops and cut 10 mm from the ride height, using progressive springs.

Yet for all the dark arts of suspension tuning, on first impression the Clio remains - in the greatest of hot hatch traditions - a car dominated by its engine. It's as if the oversized 2.0L F4R is wearing the car like a slim-fit T-shirt. Flex its biceps and there's an utterly addictive step at 5,500 rpm as the engine comes on cam. The race to the 7,200 rpm redline takes on a rampant degree of urgency, the note from Milltek exhaust on this example cranking up a notch in response. Whilst known to produce a handful of horses shy of its 182 bhp stable on a dyno, the engine feels good for every one of its 148 lb-ft of torque, the mid-range making light work of that low kerb weight.

Wind it up and the Clio feels rapid, far quicker than its 6.7s 0-60 mph time thanks to scant NVH standards seemingly derived from the dark ages - yet it's a level of thrust that shouldn’t get you into too much trouble. But it’s not all about outright speed, the throttle response is telepathic, the car leaping forwards with the merest flex of the right foot, eager to get down to business.

Yes, a current 2.0 diesel rep-mobile would likely outgun the Clio through the gears and the Business Development Manager behind the wheel might chuckle into his Bluetooth headset, but all he’s done is plant the accelerator and let some microchips process the command. The Trophy is alive, the mushy object behind the wheel forced to coordinate the engagement of the lower gear with a blip of throttle for the smoothest possible engagement of the cog, earning the performance rather than merely summoning some locomotion.

Through the corners that throttle response allows you to meter out the power accurately, probing the limit of adhesion with confidence. Of course, it's possible to overwhelm the front tyres in second gear, they are only 205 in section after all, but it is you who decides, not a sudden spike in boost pressure.

If you do overstep the mark, a quick lift of the throttle will tuck the nose in smartly or reign in any wheelspin. Whilst the body control remains resolutely from the old school - there is a lot of roll, dive and pitch here, importantly the quality of those dampers means the behaviour of the car is never anything but consistent - the Trophy maintains its composure right up to - and beyond - the limit.

Such control provides a baseline to operate from and return to. Dive into a series of bends and feel the weight move fore and aft, left to right and back to the centre again. Feel the subtle messages coming up the steering rack and into your fingertips. There’s a beautiful correlation between the load and the clarity of that message, the harder you push, the greater the reward. You might even begin to provoke the car, leaning hard on the tenacious front-end grip through a single-axis turn, or exploiting the playful yaw of the back axle through rapid direction changes.

What's just as impressive is the little Clio is it doesn't resort to rattling the fillings out of your teeth to offer such dynamics. Unlike some driver-focused, limited-run halo models, the ride quality hasn't become a sacrificial lamb. Yes, it's firm around town and I'm not for a minute going to suggest it's cosseting - nothing with such a short wheelbase ever will be - but the Trophy is never jarring, there is a polish and fluidity in play, the progressive springs and longer travel providing a range of motion in-period rivals could only dream of.

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The Trophy’s fancy suspension did come with a catch, however - the Sachs dampers deteriorate over time and require rebuilding. The problem is Renault never specified a schedule, so knowing when to authorise the required £600+ outlay can be a guessing game. Some fail at fewer than 20,000 miles, others can triple that depending upon how the car has been driven. Signs of failing units include weeping reservoirs and a “corkscrewing” motion sensed through the steering.

There are more serious flaws of course - even possible deal breakers - that extend across the entire 172/182 range. The driving position is the obvious gripe – it’s fairly comical, feeling as if you’re perching on a bar stool. Thanks to the Recaro, on the Trophy this can be resolved by fitting a pair of aftermarket 'Jon Foz' seat mounts, which lower the seats by 25 mm and retain all of the OEM functionality for £250 plus fitting.

What they cannot do is change the size or angle of the bus-like steering wheel that protrudes towards your chest at an awkward angle. The gear lever meanwhile, needs a Go-Go Gadget Arm to operate and the clutch has a biting point as high as the International Space Station. With familiarity, you overcome these quirks but if you prize a polished driving environment, a later Clio 200 might be a better bet.

On a more positive note, the Trophy's Recaro seats are super supportive and look great, and the view out is fantastic - the super slim A-pillars and teeny mirrors all add a sense of classic hot hatch theatre.

Delving further into life with the Clio, the car was built to a price, so don’t expect a high level of build quality and materials - this 40,000-mile example already possesses its fair share of rattles. But where it matters the mechanicals are robust – the F4R engine is a tough little unit and will run forever if properly serviced. Just ensure the cambelt change – due every five years at around £500 from any decent specialist – has been done with the official locking tools. It also makes sense to change the dephaser pulley and auxiliary belt too at the same time, pushing the bill towards £700. The Cup variants shave a couple of hours’ labour off the job due to their lack of air-con, a part which needs removing to gain access to the belts.

Power steering hoses and the gearbox dog bone mount are other known weak spots, and it’s a good idea to refresh the suspension on regular higher-mileage cars, a relatively economic endeavour. The factory exhaust might as well be made of tin foil given its longevity – many owners have upgraded to an aftermarket stainless steel item by now, so don’t be put off by a car with one, even if you prize originality. The same goes for the steering wheel – the thumb grips deteriorate over time and the leather on the tip of the steering wheel rim is prone to marbling.

The good news is the 182 is an impressively frugal car. A motorway commute will see the trip computer record an average of 38 mpg, strong numbers for the performance and a great advertisement for the benefits of lightness, especially in a car that only has five forward gears and no stop-start technology.

If you are someone who can file the odd rattle and buzz under the clichéd label 'character', and are tolerant of the driving position, you'll adore the 182. This is more than a car that comes alive at sane speeds - it is always alive - turning every roundabout and junction of a mundane commute into an opportunity to cock a wheel. Few cars get more out of British roads than a Renaultsport Clio.

Prices for the 182 are already on the rise, with a good example of the breed already surpassing its 197 successor in the classifieds. The 500-run Trophy has put clean air between itself and the rest of the 182 range, and as a side effect, the slimline Cup models have followed suit. Track-day goers are cannibalising and stripping out the weakest examples, trimming numbers and driving values up further. Expect to pay upwards of £4,000 for a decent 182. Eighteen months ago you could pick one up for £1500. You only have to observe the price of a Peugeot 205 Gti to predict the trajectory of the 182.

The early 2000s are already being talked about as the era of the peak performance car, and the Trophy is the finest hot hatch from that time. It’s the last of the old school, as fun to drive as a 205 but much faster - and far safer to put through a hedge. It’s a watershed moment - the perfect first performance car for the young enthusiast to learn car control in, yet has a bandwidth big enough to entertain the experienced hand and maintain the fun factor for years to come. Turns out my glasses aren't rose-tinted after all, and I’m questioning why I no longer have one.

Greatest hot hatch of all time? Bring on the chopping block.

Specification: Renault Clio 182 Trophy

Engine

1,998 cc naturally aspirated four-cylinder, DOHC 16v,

max 7,400 rpm

Output

Power 180 bhp @ 6,500 rpm,

Torque 148 lb-ft @ 5,250 rpm

Weight

1,075 kg,

Power-to-weight 167 bhp/ton

Torque-to-weight 138 lb-ft/ton

Transmission

5sp manual, FWD, open differential

Performance

0.60 mph – 6.7s,

1/4 mile – 15.5 @ 90 mph,

Top speed – 138 mph

​Value

From £10,000-£35,000 (June 2022)