Having spent more than three decades pretending to have a proper job and reviewing cars, it’s no exaggeration to say I have lifted an inside rear wheel on more than my fair share of hot hatchbacks.

Despite the obvious dangers of how these little pocket rockets paired rampant enthusiasm and perky performance with rubbish tyres, weak brakes and lift-off oversteer on demand (and, sometimes, when not demanded) I survived to tell the tale, never once crashing them. At least, not in a professional capacity…

What does that tell you? I reckon it suggests there’s little as up for a good time as a hot hatchback, especially at vaguely sane speeds. A good example of the breed is able to clearly telegraph its intentions when you get carried away, so that there’s time to gather things up – unless you’ve been a total and utter berk.

So at a time when perceptions can be skewed by endless lists of the BEST HOT HATCHBACKS EVER! and countless auction sites proclaiming that the 205 GTI/Clio Williams/Golf GTI 16v MKII (insert as appropriate) is the one to have in the garage, it’s sobering (for me at least) to think that the majority of today’s younger car enthusiasts won’t even have been behind the wheel when some of the greatest hot hatchbacks were slugging it out to be top of the torque-steer table.

Here are some personal favourites that I wish I could fling around the Hill Route at Millbrook Proving Ground and max on the high-speed bowl one more time. 

Daihatsu Charade GTti (1987-on) – The mighty mouse

While most of my friends in London were getting their laughs at that red-hot night spot, The Comedy Store, I could be found at the wheel of the Daihatsu Charade GTti laughing my head off – and trying to concoct a plan so I never had to give it back.

On the scale of smiles per mile, the G100-generation Charade GTti might just be the most underrated hot hatch of all time. It’s as cute looking as a toddler, but a lot more steady on its feet. At a time when the European car makers were still fathoming fuel injection, little old Daihatsu redefined the pocket rocket, achieving 100bhp per litre from its petite motor, a 993cc, 12-valve, twin-cam turbocharged three-cylinder.

To sort the wheat from the chaff, I once spent a day with Richard Burns and six baby hot hatchbacks, and while the Peugeot 106 XSi would ultimately get the nod from Burns – who at the time, it should be noted, was competing in the Peugeot Challenge – my pint-size hero of the diminutive dozen was the Charade GTti. It had the agility of the Peugeot, if not quite the outright poise, but was a heck of a lot quicker and sounded like a baby Porsche 911. Weighing a shade over 800 kilos, it was properly quick(0-60mph in 7.7sec, 113mph all told) and able to hussle a 911 by virtue of taking up so little room on a B-road.  

Combine this with the rush that came from its turbocharged power delivery and the buzz that came from backing it into tighter corners with a ‘bung and a lift’ to provoke the tail into play, and it was more fun than a saké-soaked night in a Roppongi karaoke bar.

Knowing how many GTtis were officially imported into the UK is guess work. What isn’t debatable is that most of them are no longer with us. Today, fewer than 50 are thought to survive on UK roads, the vast majority declared SORN, making them a rarer sight at car and coffee meets than Ferrari F40s.

The challenge with a car like the GTti is finding one for sale – but that’s what Google alerts are for, right? For those in the know, the Charade GTti is a true gem – quirky, quick, and a giant-killer in the right hands. Spot one today, and you’re looking at a forgotten turbocharged legend that deserves a place in any JDM collection.

Fiat Tipo Sedicivalvole (1991-on) – Motorsport in the blood

If you weren’t around at the time, and even if you were, the chances are the early ‘90s Fiat Tipo Sedicivalvole is not on your hot hatch radar. Fiat’s answer to the Golf GTI and admittedly smaller but archetypal Peugeot 205 GTI lived in their shadows, despite impressing critics and owners alike and being based on the 1989 European Car of the Year.

I was one of those critics, and loved the Tipo’s well-balanced chassis, chatty steering and exuberant 16-valve, 2-litre four-pot which ultimately delivered 148bhp and was steeped in motorsport heritage, being evolved from Aurelio Lampredi's twin-cam. It was good for a 0-60 mph time of 7.4 seconds, had that delightful and distinctly Italian rasp and thrived on revs, which is surely what all good hot hatches should be about – taking them by the scruff of the neck and getting stuck in?

The Tipo might have looked a little top heavy – which Fiat’s designers did their best to counter with a tasteful bodykit, lowered stance and five-spoke alloys – but its chassis felt nimble and responsive. Derived from the Strada floorpan (and later used for the Fiat Coupé and Alfa Romeo 155), it came with fully independent suspension and quick, informative steering, and when you did overstep the mark you could gather things up without drama, making it a real joy to drive hard.

As for owners, well our own Oliver Hagger lived with a Sedicivalvole for a few years as a company car, and can attest to its spirited drive that was matched by a practical, spacious cabin, top-drawer Recaro front seats – “the best seats of any non-GT Porsche I’ve owned!” – and Momo steering wheel.

Unfortunately, it’s time to run through the motoring writer’s notebook of clichés. Italian car + water and salt = Rust In Peace; drive it like you stole it = crashed; unknown qualities = few survivors. A mere handful are believed to remain on UK roads, which makes us sad. However, at the time of writing, a tidy-looking, 83,000 mile 1992 example was advertised on Car andClassic for £7995.

If you want to travel the less obvious path and own a pedigree hot hatch from Italy, the Tipo Sedicivalvole is one to search for. 

Nissan Almera GTi (1996–on) – The unsung hero

Is the Nissan Almera GTi the ultimate underdog in the world of hot hatches? I have no idea, and it probably matters not one jot, but there’s no denying it wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t famous, and it wasn’t the first car the majority of punters thought of when looking for a performance hatchback in the late ‘90s. But those who drove one knew the truth – the Almera GTi was surprisingly capable.

We ran a long-term test Almera GTI on one of the car mags I worked for, and it was always a good weekend if you bagged its keys. Power came from Nissan’s legendary SR20DE 2.0-litre 16-valve four-cylinder engine, producing 140bhp. That might not sound like much today, but in the relatively lightweight 1150kg Almera, it meant a 0-60 mph time of around 7.8seconds – enough to keep up with a Mk3 Golf GTI or Honda Civic VTi.

But the Almera GTI’s real party trick was its chassis, and the reason it delivered the goods on British roads was that it had been developed on them. Engineers from Nissan’s Technical Centre in Cranfield, Bedfordshire, had input on tuning the independent suspension (a rarity in its class) and boy did it show. It was a tenacious thing, big on grip and balance, and had the sort of immediate responses from its front end that every racing driver craves.

Despite its abilities, the Almera GTi never got the love it deserved, in part because it was a Nissan Almera, which isn’t much of a conversation starter, and in part because the interior was drab. But those that lived with one knew it was a sleeper hot hatch that punched above its weight. If you can find one today, it still does.

Peugeot 309 GTi (1987–on) – Big brother

I once spent an afternoon in a 309 GTI on a skid pad at the Chobham test track, in Chertsey, Surrey, teaching my younger brother Tom the ins and outs of car control. It was the perfect car for the job, because unlike its cooler brother the 205, the 309 behaved predictably at the limit.

Every time we tested a 309 GTi, my colleagues and I would come away thinking it was the superior car to its smaller sibling. Sharing the 1.9-litre XU9 engine from the 205 GTi, the 309 GTi produced 130bhp and had a longer wheelbase, improving weight distribution and making it more stable at high speeds. It was still a lightweight, coming in at around 975kg, which meant it was almost as fast as the 205 GTi in a straight line, but the structure was stiffer and the suspension behaviour more predictable, so when grip changed to slip it was eminently controllable. Backing out of the throttle in a 205 GTi, by contrast, was an uncomfortable game of Russian roulette.

When they come up for sale, prices are strong, so forget about paying beer-money for one – or indeed any of these ‘90s hot hatches. At the time of writing, there’s a 24,000-miler for sale on Car and Classic, at £17,000, but it’s a left-hooker.

So what held the 309 back? You know what: it was square. Everyone wanted to be seen in the chic, cheap 205 rather than the slightly awkward-looking, more expensive 309, which had a whiff of Granddad about it. But to drive, there was nothing uncool about the 205's big brother.

Renault 19 16V (1990–on) – Original va va voom

When it comes to a conversation about Renault’s hot hatchbacks, you can bet your driving licence that the Clio Williams, Clio 182 Trophy and 5 GT Turbo get all the glory. And that’s a bit of a shame, because Renault made another hot hatch that had no shortage of talent: the 19 16V.

But here’s the thing about the ‘16V’ Clio and 19 models that Renault churned out: the engine could be hit and miss, running sweetly and strongly in some test cars at the time, and in others feeling weak and strangled. A Ford engineer I spoke with put it down to shonky quality. Why mention it? Because you need to know you’re getting a good one and shouldn’t accept one that instinctively feels a bit flat. Not that you’ll be spoilt for choice these days, given the 19 16V's rarity.

In 1.8-litre guise, the 16V engine pumped out 137bhp, sending it to 60 mph in just 7.9seconds. It had a wide-track stance, sharp steering and the sort of ride comfort and bump-absorption that meant it flowed along a British B-road with a grace that gave the driver the confidence to work it hard. And on a track, you could provoke it with left-foot braking on turn-in to induce lock-stop levels of lift-off oversteer – a sure-fire way to scare passengers silly, and nearby golfers who played alongside the Chobham test track…

The early Phase One cars look sensational, to these eyes at least, but these days you have to take what you can find – pre or post-facelift. The cabin wasn’t terribly well made and seat fabric would start stretching even on young press cars, so don’t expect any survivors to feel like new, unless restoration has taken place. If you find one, do your fellow petrolheads a favour and save it.

Seat Ibiza GTi 8V (1993–on) – The Spanish sleeper

In the mid-‘90s, SEAT was struggling to shape itself an identity, and the Ibiza GTi was one of its first real attempts at a proper hot hatch. What makes it special? Volkswagen DNA. The Ibiza GTi was one of the first SEATs to benefit from VW ownership, and under the bonnet was the tried-and-tested 2-litre 8-valve engine from the Mk3 Golf GTI.

With 115 bhp, the Ibiza GTi 8V wasn’t the most powerful hot hatch of its time, but thanks to its light weight (around 1020kg), short gearing and plenty of torque low in the rev range it felt brisker than drivers expected from the numbers – 0-60 mph in around 9seconds and a top speed of 121mph.

Its handling was significantly sharper than the Polo with which it shared its platform, with re-tuned MacPherson strut front suspension and a torsion beam rear, along with well-chosen damping. It wasn’t as playful as a Peugeot 106 Rallye, but it had good grip and high-speed stability, and when we ran one for a year as a long-term test car, it was always good to climb back into it and get on the pace, as its transparent handling made it pretty trustworthy.

Despite its rarity, values are still low. A well-kept one can be found for £3,000–£5,000, but as with all ‘90s hot hatches, prices are only going one way. If you want a quirky, underrated alternative to a Mk3 Golf GTI, the Ibiza GTi 8V is a budget-friendly sleeper with VW pedigree.

Peugeot 306 GTI-6 (1996–on) – King of the hill

Given a choice of the keys to one classic hot hatch to put into Racing Green’s dehumidified, solar-powered shrine to special cars, I’d be hard-torn to pick between the Renault Megane R26.R and Peugeot 306 GTI-6. The two share an essential trait: a dazzlingly good chassis.

Arriving after the 306 S16, the GTI-6 added its signature six-speed gearbox, which was a novelty at the time for the class, and a few more ponies to up the stakes in the hot hatch wars. Anoraks will tell you that the gearbox made the car heavier than the S16, but not enough to notice any detrimental effect on speed, especially when you were treated to closely-spaced gearing.

Its 167bhp, 2-litre four-cylinder ‘XU’ engine was game for a good time (0-60 mph in 7.0 seconds and 137 mph), bouncing off the rev-limiter as you chased the gears and worked the oh-so-sweet chassis harder than you had any right to on the public road. But that was the thing about the GTI-6: it inspired confidence and rarely ran out of answers no matter what the road or conditions threw at it. The key to that was independent multi-link rear suspension, plenty of wheel travel combined with exceptional body control, and the most delicious four-wheel-drift stance through corners that you could play around with to your heart’s content.

Few cars then or since have flowed down a road so well. If ever there was a keeper from the hot hatch crowd that deserves special care, it’s the GTI-6.

Citroen AX GT (1988-on) – A miracle in miniature

Three decades ago, Racing Green's Oliver Hagger and I used to bomb about B-roads as if they were our personal playground. He had a Fiat Uno 60S, and I gave chase in my Peugeot 205 Trio SX – complete with green seatbelts, vacuum-sealed sliding sunroof and two-speaker tape player. Then Oli upgraded to a new AX GT and my eyes turned the same colour as those seatbelts.

From then on I had no hope of keeping up. When I got to drive it, I could understand why. Any AX was laughably light (the bog-standard ones dipped below 700kg) and the GT was no exception, at a Gitanes-packet over 720kg. If you’d attached the twin-choke single carb 1360cc TU engine, five-speed gearbox, some dampers and springs and larger wheels to a shopping trolley, it’d probably weigh more.

That TU was an absolute snorter, the second choke kicking in with full throttle around 3500rpm and piling more air and fuel into the cylinders, which would set the GT up the road as though you’d switched on a turbocharger – a quaint party trick in an age when cars like the Daihatsu Charade GTti really were turbocharged. And again, because of how little it had to lug around, its 85bhp and 85lb ft (at a revvy 4000rpm) went a long way.

Progress was further hastened by Citroën’s innate understanding of how to make a car flow with a road – even fidgety British ones. It had soft springs and long-travel suspension, but delightfully direct steering that was so light and full of feel you just needed a thumb and forefinger to make the most extreme change of direction.

But concentration was required. If you sent it one way too suddenly then lifted, the back of the GT would step out as fast as you could cry for your maman. But it did so as progressively as you could hope from a car with such a short wheelbase, and once comfortable with it, the GT was in many ways a more reassuring companion than the faster, stiffer 205 GTI.

You knew, however, that any ham-fisted mistake would likely spell the end for the AX, because it offered all the impact protection of a croissant. So you respected it and the road, which meant you really thought about your driving. Perhaps that's why there are still some survivors out there?

If you would like to know more about Racing Green’s services, or arrange for your car to be placed in our care, please speak with a member of the team, on 03330 909722, or email us at enquiries@racinggreencarstorage.co.uk