Jeremy Clarkson - What Could Possibly Go Wrong...

You want more evidence that the economy’s recovering and batteries are on the back burner? Well, there’s going to be a convertible version of the epic Mercedes SLS and a long-wheelbase option for the Rolls-Royce Ghost. Then we have the new Porsche 911, which will be exactly the same as every other 911, and a hardcore derivative of the car most Formula One drivers use when their sponsors and engine suppliers aren’t looking – the Nissan GT-R.

In the real world, BMW is working on yet another version of the Mini – it’ll be a two-door coupé. There will also be a handsome-looking new 6-series and a £40,000 M version of what BMW calls the 135 coupé, even though it’s actually a saloon.

Never mind the muddle, though; this is one of the cars I’m most looking forward to driving, partly because I reckon the standard car is already the best model in the BMW line-up and partly because, with a twin-turbo, 335-horsepower straight six and a straightforward front-engine, rear-drive, no-styling, no-nonsense approach, it will be a genuine successor to the simple M cars of old.

I’m also looking forward to the new Mercedes SLK, although I’m a bit alarmed that industry insiders are saying it’ll be a more hardcore experience than the ‘soft’ outgoing model. Having owned an SLK 55, which I sold because it was way too uncomfortable, I am a bit worried that the new car might not have any suspension at all.

Strangely, though, in this sea of wholesome goodness, the car I’ve been anticipating with the most eagerness is Citroën’s DS3 Racing. I realize that this is like booking a table at the Wolseley in London and then looking forward most of all to the bread rolls. But the fact is this: when the sun is shining, I like a simple two-seater convertible most of all, but when it isn’t – and this is Britain, after all – the type of car that I most enjoy driving is a hot hatchback. And the DS3 Racing is about as hot as hot hatches get right now.

You might argue that the optional paint job, with checks on the roof and all sorts of slogans and symbols that would only make sense if they were splashed on the deck of a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier, is a bit stupid. But I disagree. They’re a laugh. I even like the warning above the petrol filler cap. ‘Caution. Attention’, it says. And why not?

Inside, it’s just as bonkers, with a bright orange dash, a carbon-fibre steering wheel and epic seats that would be more at home, you feel, in an F-22 Raptor.

After a period in which car makers have looked backwards for inspiration – I’m thinking of the new Beetle, the new Mini, the new Chevrolet Camaro, the new Ford Mustang and the new Fiat 500 – it comes as a refreshing change to find Citroën has decided to face the other way, while taking inspiration from both the US navy and Airfix. Mind you, I suppose that if Citroën had looked backwards, we’d have ended up with a reborn 2CV. And no one this side of the Guardian wants that.

I realize, of course, that looks and style are a matter of taste and that some of you may find the Racing garish and idiotic. But without wishing to sound childish, this is my review and I really like it.

However, it would all be for nothing if its body were writing cheques its engine could not cash. Well, let’s get one thing straight from the off. It’s not, as the name would suggest, a racing car. It’s just a DS3 with a few racing-style bits and bobs added into the mix. That said, it’s powered by a 204-horsepower version of the turbocharged 1.6-litre used by BMW until recently in the Mini, so it’ll do 146mph. And thanks to a lower ride height, a wider track and firmer dampers than the basic DS3, it handles crisply, too.

Yes, there’s a fair bit of torque steer and I will admit that the Renault Clio 200 Cup is a tad more dynamic. But the Citroën is more comfortable and less noisy and, of course, every time you see your reflection in a shop window, you will feel like you’re on the bridge of the USS Dwight D Eisenhower . Whereas when you see a reflection of yourself in a Renault, it’s just a reminder that you will soon break down.

In short, I loved the DS3 Racing as much as I thought I would. I loved driving it. I loved looking at it. I love the feeling now that it’s parked outside my house and I can use it for a trip to town this afternoon. It is a car that’s excellent to drive but, more importantly, it’s a car that makes me feel happy. And, of course, because it’s a hot hatch, you get all the fun as well as a big boot, folding rear seats and space inside for five.

Issues? Well, the adjustment on the seat is so crude that you either drive sitting bolt upright or flat on your back, and I must say, for a whopping £23,100, I would have expected a few more toys. When you are paying BMW 3-series money for a small Citroën, the least you would expect is satnav.

The worst thing, though, is that to bypass costly legal tests, Citroën has declared the Racing a ‘low-volume’ car and will make only 1,000. Just 200 will come to Britain. On the upside, there is a loophole in the law that allows Citroën to make a modification to the engine that no one will notice and that lets the company make 1,000 more. Get your name down early, but don’t be surprised to find you’re behind me in the queue.

Alarming news from among the potted plants at your local plate-glass car dealership. It seems that six out of ten people who buy a new set of wheels these days don’t bother to haggle over the price.

I should explain that I’m one of them. Mostly, if I’m honest, it’s because I have to pay the full sticker price or the Daily Mail will run a story saying that I’m on the take and cannot be trusted. But you do not have the Mail breathing down your neck every time you eat food or go to the lavatory, and so you really should try to beat down the man with the cheap suit and the boy-band hair.

If you pay cash, even a Ferrari salesman will give you free door mats. Whereas with something like Citroën, he’ll probably give you a 100 per cent discount, £1,000 cashback, 0 per cent finance for 300 years and an evening with his girlfriend and one of her better-looking friends.

I realize, of course, that you are not an Egyptian market trader and that you find haggling completely revolting. You don’t try for a discount when you are buying a stamp or a box of cornflakes, so why would you try for one when you are buying a car? It would be ghastly. If you are English, you would rather vomit on a salesman than negotiate with him face to face over money. But come on. The whole process of buying a car is so unpleasant, a bit of toing and froing over price is nothing.

You’ve already dealt with the balloons. This is just one example of what the car dealer thinks of you. He reckons that you are so moronic that if he hangs a few colourful balloons outside his showroom, you will think there is some kind of ‘do’ on, so you’ll be unable to drive by.

Then there’s the decor. A car showroom, even the fancy ones on Park Lane in London, has all the visual appeal of a railway station’s lavatories. You want to get out as soon as possible. But you can’t because the man with boy-band hair is on his way over with the handshake of a dead haddock and a silly earring. And he’s got lots of impertinent questions about where you live and what you do and your credit rating. As a general rule, it should also be noted he knows less about the cars he’s selling than you do about the moons of Jupiter.

Then there’s the worst bit. When he grabs a form and steps outside to tell you what the car you wish to part exchange is worth. In short, it’s worth about an eighth of what you thought. This is because the man from Take That has found a scratch, and it’s grey and grey’s not very popular at the moment. Except for the fact that 75 per cent of all cars sold in Britain are one shade of grey or another.