On the road: Peugeot 308 GTi 'A cheeks-blown-back, hair-on-end kind of car'– car review

It takes a particular kind of driver who not only loves to floor it, but actively enjoys a car that feels as if it's going 80 even at 40

Are dual exhausts just for showing off, or the logical end point of the high horsepower vehicle? For that matter, does anybody need this kind of power, and when - outside of criminal activity - does anybody need to hit 62 miles an hour from cold in 6.2 seconds? These questions are for losers. Reason not the need of the sporty vehicle. If you want it, you know why you want it, and all that remains to ask is, does the sportiness fulfil the dearest desires of those who love to sport? If we take those desires to be antithetical to those of the general population, then yes. But let's dig in a little: lazyboneses, who sit marshmallowishly in their seats and are just waiting for a driverless car, followed by a liverless life, prefer the automatic. Those who are a bit more vigorous prefer a manual, and those who like to sport prefer a gearbox like this: so racy that it's quite hard to get into each gear unless you've hit peak condition for it. It's like watching Breaking Bad. You think it's just telly, and only when you concentrate will you understand why other people enjoy it.

Likewise, your sedate, prosocial driver (like my stepmother, whom I once had to follow home from Kent and was surprised when I arrived that my toenails hadn't grown through my shoes) will drive at 80 tops and never once wonder what a car sounds like at 100. The regular driver might strain at the speed limit every now and again, for kicks. But it takes a particular kind of driver who not only loves to floor it and can see the point of a top speed of 155mph, but actively enjoys a car that feels as if it's going 80 even at 40. I'm not saying I am one of those people, I'm just saying I understand they exist, and this is the car for them. It is a cheeks-blown-back, hair-on-end, take-hills-like-you're-flying kind of car. The steering is taut, responsive, even a bit melodramatic, like having a telepathic bond with a vehicle that sometimes misinterprets you on purpose.