Volume does not necessarily equal sportiness.

This is a thing of which Peugeot in particular needs reminding. See, the 308 GT has a Sport button. Like other such buttons, it dials in an armful of unwelcome heft to the steering, puts the auto ’box into DEFCON 3 and ups the sensitivity of the throttle pedal.

It also ups the noise. Not by popping open a set of bafes in the exhaust, à la Aston Martin, or even by piping existing engine noise into the cabin. Oh no – it begins a ridiculous, totally dominating synthesised soundtrack. What does it sound like? A bit fve-cylindery – like an Audi quattro, just one that’s sufered a heavy front-end impact. Nothing like a little, four-cylinder diesel, that’s for sure.

That Peugeot has gone to such lengths to mask that tractor-like chunter is surely an admission the 4cyl diesel isn’t a particularly sporty thing. But be that as it may, there are still many niche-busting diesel hot hatches on sale. And they’re good. And popular (VW sells 2.5 times more GTDs than it does GTIs) – chiefy thanks to big MPG, low CO2 emissions and tiny tax bills. So popular, in fact, it would’ve been irresponsible of us to ignore them completely in our quest to identify and celebrate the best hot hatch.

So, this is the frst hurdle. The one into which four of these fve diesel hatches must clatter. One will go on to face the conventionally fuelled, and the others will return from whence they came. We have the VW Golf GTD, which is a Golf and therefore the one to beat. There’s the Seat Leon FR and Skoda Octavia vRS, both of which share a platform and engine with the Golf, but trim of some of the nice VW bits to defate the RRP. The everyman Ford Focus ST is here, and then there’s the rank outsider: this Peugeot. All of them have around 180bhp, hit 62mph in seven or eight seconds and clock MPGs in the mid-to-high 60s.

And it’s the Peugeot with which we begin. It’s pretty good. Certainly far better than we expected, but ultimately hampered by a few little niggles. The tiny steering wheel makes it feel genuinely agile; as does the fact it’s lighter than the Ford by some 140kg, which is many. You can feel the weight about the nose, though, and the steering lacks the feedback and precision you might have hoped for. The big problem here is the gearbox. Which is terrible.

Maybe that’s a bit harsh. You can only get an auto, and for the most part, it’s fne if it’s left to its own devices. But play with the paddles, and you’ll soon get frustrated. It still shifts for you, whatever you do with the Sport button. And if you coincidentally pull a paddle when the ’box is about to attempt the upshift itself, you’ll pop up two gears. Not good. Not a winner.

The Focus is more convincing. For starters, the only indication that lurking beneath the bonnet beats the heart of a commercial vehicle is the rev counter. Otherwise, it looks like a normal ST, which is a Very Good Thing. It costs exactly the same as the petrol car, too, so it’s not as though you’re paying a premium for all those extra miles of range.

Thumb the start button, and the 2.0-litre four bursts into life with an almost Subaru-like bark, before settling back into that familiar four-cylinder rumble. From the moment you set of you notice the ride, which is just jiggly enough to be irritating. But the Focus mostly makes up for it with that trademark Ford B-road nous. It steers well, but the wheel bucks and writhes in your hands as the front end tracks the road surface, and there’s a fair amount of torque-steer to contend with. It’s all a bit frenetic but undeniably good fun, if you’re into that sort of thing.

If you’re not into that sort of thing, the Octavia is a far less exuberant proposition. Where the Focus is pointy and lively, the Czech is restrained and laid-back. For, you know, driving about in, it’s more comfortable day-to-day, quieter and less obvious than the Focus. And then there’s the boot, which is truly vast. It handles well but without any real fzz or panache, and it looks, well, like an Octavia, albeit one with big wheels, big seats, a subtle spoiler and twin pipes. In such company, it feels a bit sensible, a bit grown-up.

Despite its lurid green paint scheme, the Leon is even less interesting to look at than the Octavia. As it comes, the FR looks like a normal Leon. It’s not a Cupra, so it doesn’t get all the nice skirts and spoilers. It’s an FR, which is less of a standalone model and more of a trim level, albeit one at the very top of the Leon tree. Indeed, this isn’t the only engine you can get in an FR, but it is the biggest, quickest and, crucially, best. You can spec what Seat calls a Sport Styling Pack, too, which improves the looks issue. But at £2,505, it’s an expensive box to tick.

Ignoring the looks for a moment, the Leon is actually bloody good. The steering is pointy and confdenceinspiring, the engine (as it is in the Octavia and Golf) is strong and willing, with surprisingly quick throttle response for a diesel engine. It’s genuine fun but a more civilised kind of fun than in the Ford. There’s no torquesteer or anything like that – you just point it at the horizon and mash the throttle pedal. Spec the excellent DSG transmission, and it smears through ratios far more succinctly than the Peugeot, too.

The only problem with the Seat is that the Golf GTD is better. Not objectively better – it’s maybe slightly better to drive, as economical, as quick and some £4k more expensive – but more desirable. And desirability matters. It’s got that inherent Golfshness, that unquantifable quality that makes all Golfs so much more appealing than their competitors. It looks the part, treading the line between subtlety and hot hatchiness more successfully than the Octavia. The interior – with its tartan upholstery golf-ball gearlever and Germanic solidity – is the best of the bunch. The ride is frm but not uncomfortable, and if you leave it in Normal, it rivals the Octavia for sheer liveability. And when you’re done with it, we bet it’ll be worth more, too.

So, the Peugeot is spoilt by its gearbox. The Skoda, meanwhile, is just too sensible. And the Ford? It’s great value, but that frenetic character and irritating ride mar an otherwise accomplished car. It comes down to two – the Leon and Golf. And it’s the Golf we want the most. The price might look scary at frst, but you get more kit. Besides, option the FR up to GTD levels, and the diference really isn’t that massive. So the GTD wins this test. But is it fun enough to justify itself over a petrol hot hatch? Onwards, to the drag strip.