Written by Luke Wilkinson Updated: 11 December 2024

After a brief period of automotive nomadism, our Deputy Editor, Luke Wilkinson, has a new long-termer. It sounds like it’s right up his street, too – at least on paper. It’s small, it’s powerful and sporty. But does it live up to expectations, or will it leave Luke completely cold? Scroll down to find out.

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Update one: Welcome

As a devout Italian car tragic, it pains me to admit how much I like the second-generation M140i. I find it hilarious how brazenly BMW flew in the face of convention. Back in 2011, its rival brands were downsizing and dropping turbocharged 2.0-litre petrol engines into their front-wheel drive hatchbacks, but BMW was busying itself cramming a detuned M3 straight-six under the bonnet of its rear-wheel drive 1 Series to create the only hot hatch for serious drivers.

Sadly, BMW has changed the formula for its current fast 1 Series, the M135. Now, the car is following the crowds. It’s based on the same platform as the MINI Cooper and powered by a hopped-up version of the Cooper S’s 2.0-litre petrol engine. Plus, the engine has been yoked to a far less tail-happy front-biased four-wheel drive system. These changes make the M135 a more natural rival for the Volkswagen Golf R, but they’ve also killed the car’s unique selling point.

Don’t just take my word for it, though. Just look at the reaction from the company’s fans. When the current-generation M135 was launched back in 2019, these simple dynamic adjustments over the outgoing M140i made BMW’s most loyal enthusiasts storm their internet forums to hurl vitriol at the company’s engineers.

I haven’t really got a horse in this race, so I’m not about to spend the next 1,000 words lamenting the death of BMW’s commitment to rear-wheel drive. However, I am interested in learning whether BMW has managed to defend its position as the driver’s hot hatchback.

To find out, I’ll be looking after this M135 for the next four months. And, having recently spent some time with the Honda Civic Type R, facelifted Volkswagen Golf R and Toyota GR Yaris, I reckon Munich is facing its toughest challenge yet. Scroll down to find out why.

Tell us more about your M135

I’m looking after a facelifted M135 (not to be confused with the pre-facelift M135i – ‘i’ is now reserved for electric cars in BMW parlance), which means its performance specs are less impressive than they were. When the car broke cover in 2019, its engine developed 306hp and 450Nm of torque. But my revised car lost 6hp and 50Nm as part of its update. I understand the power deficit is to help squeak the car through ever-tightening emissions tests, but it’s disappointing when the Volkswagen Golf R received a 13hp boost when it was facelifted.

Despite the detune, my M135 can still get from 0–62mph in 4.9 seconds and hit a top speed of 155mph. It’s got a decent amount of punch in the mid-range, too, although I reckon it lacks the outright urgency of the Golf R. I’m finding the engine to be noticeably lazier – and I’m having to spend more time planning my overtakes on the motorway. With the Golf, you can just mash the throttle and ride the wave of torque.

I’m not exactly smitten with my car’s spec, either. Its bodywork is finished in BMW’s ‘Individual Frozen Pure Grey’ matte paint while its cabin is trimmed in red leather upholstery. If it was my own car, I’d have probably painted it blue and trimmed the cabin in black leather. The black interior finish is a lot classier, while metallic paint is far easier to maintain.

What do you like about it so far?

I’ve only had it a couple of weeks so I’m still learning all its quirks. However, I’m impressed by how comfortable it is. Granted, that’s not something I’d normally focus on in a hot hatch review, but the M135 has great seats and fantastic door seals that cancel out almost all the noise whipping around the windscreen pillars.

The infotainment system is good, too. I miss the iDrive rotary controller you’ll find in larger BMWs, but the M135’s setup is logical enough. I like how BMW had the common sense to fix the climate control menu at the bottom of the screen and I adore the physical hotkeys on the centre console that allow you to jump directly to the driver assist menu and disengage lane assist with a single prod.

BMW did a decent job on the sound system, too. Every M135 comes with a Harman/Kardon stereo and it’s great. I’d like a little more bass, (Steve Harris’ thunderous bass lines are being smothered by the treble) but there’s plenty of depth in the mid-range and the higher frequencies aren’t too tinny.

What’s annoying you?

How conformist it is. Hot hatchbacks should be a little antisocial, but the M135 is about as rowdy as your local parish book club. The noise it makes it particularly disappointing. All car manufacturers are now hamstrung by EU noise regulations that state car exhausts can’t be louder than 70dB. To put that figure into perspective, that’s about the same amount of noise generated by your vacuum cleaner.

For an average urban runabout, that’s probably fair enough. But it feels criminal for a hot hatchback to be that quiet – and I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that I’d be willing to sacrifice some refinement for a snarlier exhaust and a noisier intake.

BMW has tried to compensate for this with a synthetic noise generator. It pipes a bassier exhaust tone and some artificial pops and bangs into the rear of the cabin to give the illusion of a louder exhaust, but it isn’t very convincing. I hunted out the off switch in the infotainment system within 15 minutes of getting the keys and I haven’t turned it back on since.

I’m also not in love with the way it drives. It’s quite… sterile. The controls are rather numb and the steering doesn’t offer much feedback, which means I’m finding it challenging to put my trust in the chassis. I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually, but it feels alien for now.

A mixed start to M135 ‘ownership,’ then. Check back in a few weeks to find out whether I’ve changed my tune.

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Update two: Battle scars

I don’t really understand why matte paint is so popular. You’re paying a huge chunk of extra money for a load of extra hassle. Matte paint isn’t as hard-wearing as gloss or metallic paint as it doesn’t have any lacquer to protect the base colour from the elements. That means it’s easy to damage and expensive to fix – as I recently found out.

My M135 has suffered some collateral damage. My house was built beneath a fiercely contested region of airspace in which Northamptonshire’s red kites and pigeons are locked in an endless dogfight. It’s a bit one-sided, though. The kites are talented predators and the pigeons are thicker than mince, which means I often find a deconstructed ball of feathers and bones on my doorstep.

Their latest tussle dragged my long termer into the crosshairs. The pigeons have recently started sitting on the roof of my car to bask in the sun. The kites quickly realised this and started hovering above my house to wait for an easy lunch, staying hidden from their hapless prey by circling in the sun like Spitfire pilots.

When the hunter finally pounced, the M135’s thin paint couldn’t defend itself from the scuffle. The kite’s talons clawed right through the pigeon, carving chunks out my car’s topcoat in the process – and the ensuing struggle between the two parties spread the area of impact across more than foot of the roof rails. As the image above illustrates.

If my M135 had normal paint, I could just break out the polish out and buff through the scratches to repair the damage. But matte paint isn’t anywhere near as forgiving. Trying to buff the scars out would only make them worse, meaning this panel will need to be repainted.

I called all my local panel shops for quotes but most weren’t even prepared to touch the car because of how unforgiving matte paint is to work with. You can’t blend it and you can’t touch it up, which means repainting the entire roof rail. That means plenty of masking, a lot of sanding and a loads of faff.

After a full afternoon of chasing quotes, I managed to find one for around £300. That’s almost 15% the cost of the paint from the factory for a repair to less than 5% of the car’s metalwork. Feel free to form your own opinions, but I think far that’s too steep a price to pay for the simple benefit of looking a bit like Batman.

My advice? Don’t get dragged into the hype. Save your cash and stick with normal paint.

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Update three: Thunderbirds are go

My colleague, Ted Welford, owns an original Audi TT. It spent some time in a body shop near the office having some cosmetic rust fixed, after which it sat in the Bauer car park awaiting a convenient moment for him to jump out of a press car and take it home.

The trouble is, that process took a few months – and that was just long enough for a niggling earth fault to completely drain the car’s battery. So, that meant Ted had to revive the car using the Parkers jump starter and drive around to get some electrons back into its battery.

Our hope was that the alternator could recharge the battery just well enough to limp the TT home. But we didn’t account for Ted’s incompetence. He didn’t drive around long enough to recharge the battery and, when he stopped to fill the car with fuel at Peterborough services, it hadn’t received enough power to turn the engine over again.

Ryan and I were out gathering props for an upcoming Parkers YouTube video when we received a slightly sheepish phone call from our colleague asking to be rescued. So, we dropped what we were doing and raced to the scene in the M135.

Ted had managed to push the car to a lay-by at the exit of the services, where I had no choice but to stop the flow of traffic by driving the wrong way around the petrol station’s one way system to position the nose of the BMW in front of the TT.

Next, I demonstrated my own incompetence by spending 15 minutes looking for an earth terminal to attach the jump leads to. The M135’s positive terminal is easy to find as it’s hiding under a bright red cap on the right-hand side of the engine bay. The earth terminal is in a far more innocuous location behind the strut brace.

Thankfully, the BMW’s battery had more than enough waft to bring the TT back to life, allowing us to restore order to Peterborough services once more.

If you were one of the hundred-or-so motorists affected by the forces our irrepressible fecklessness, please know we’re deeply apologetic. Next time, we’ll get a new battery. And a jerry can.

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Update four: BMW has lost its way

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been smoking around in a sympathetically modernised BMW 330Ci. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the nostalgia, but the experience has left me feeling quite reflective. At the risk of sounding like a fossil, BMW simply doesn’t build its cars like it used to. Things really were better 20 years ago – and we didn’t know how good we had it.

I’m not just talking about the driving dynamics, either. It’s every aspect of the ownership experience, starting with the price. When this 330Ci was new, it cost £28,285. Adjusted for inflation, that equates to £50,126 in August 2025.

That happens to be the same amount of money BMW now charges for an M135 specified like mine, which doesn’t feel like good value. In effect, we’re now paying more and getting less. The cash that used to be enough for a hot version of the mid-sized 3 Series coupe is now only enough for a hot version of the entry-level 1 Series hatchback.

It’s not like the gap in performance is big enough to justify the down sizing, either. My M135’s 2.0-litre four-cylinder petrol engine produces 300hp, which is enough for a top speed of 155mph and a 0–62mph time of 4.7 seconds.

The 330Ci, meanwhile, has a 230hp 3.0-litre straight-six. It can reach the same 155mph top speed but, because it has rear-wheel drive instead of four-wheel drive, it can’t get its power down as cleanly off the line. That gives it a slightly slower 0–62mph of time of 6.3 seconds.

However, once you’re up to speed, there isn’t much in it. The M135 might have an extra 74ft lb of torque, but it also weighs an extra 120kg. The result is, if the 330Ci is in the right gear, the youngster can’t shake the old timer off its tail. Ask me how I know.

It’s the same story with the fuel economy. BMW says the M135 can return between 34.8 and 37.1mpg, but I struggle to get much more than 30mpg from it in the real world. The 330Ci, meanwhile, has an official fuel economy figure of 31mpg, but I’ve been averaging around 35mpg.

And I think I know why. The M135 has a frantic little turbocharged engine that needs to be thrashed to get the best from it. If you try and chug around at low speeds in a high gear, the ECU will simply pull control away from you and shift the ‘box into third or fourth to keep the turbo happy.

But the 330Ci has more capacity, plenty of low-down torque and a long-ratio gearbox. Its exhaust also isn’t choked up by a turbocharger which, despite the performance benefits it brings at the top of the rev range, is more hindrance than help below 2,000rpm.

Technological ‘advancements’

I’ve made my opinions about lane assist and active driver aids abundantly clear in my other long-term reports – and I can honestly say I didn’t miss any safety equipment during my time with the 330Ci. I found it refreshing to drive a car that did as it was told rather than as it was programmed to do.

I’m also a firm believer that active driver aids are making us lazier, less careful motorists. I certainly felt more vigilant at the helm of the 330Ci, as I knew its crash structure wasn’t quite as strong as my M135’s and that, if the worst happened, I didn’t have much of an electronic safety net to save me from my own incompetence. Fear like that sharpens your focus.

It isn’t like this 330Ci is completely devoid of safety kit, though. There’s just enough to protect you in an accident, but it doesn’t interfere with the driving experience. So, you get a very amicable traction control system, seatbelt pretensioners and driver, passenger, side and curtain airbags.

Plus, this particular 330Ci has been upgraded with a better stereo, a reversing camera and a modern touchscreen with wireless Android Auto (pictured above). That latter feature from the future is one I don’t mind being ported into the past, as I like navigating with Waze and I enjoy having my Spotify library at my fingertips. What’s more, having both on a screen in the dashboard means my phone can get safely locked away in the glovebox.

How BMW could get back to its roots

BMW certainly isn’t what it was, but it’d wrong for me to only blame the brand for the backwards steps it’s taken. Legislators have forced all manufacturers to adopt active safety tech to pass ever-increasingly stringent crash safety tests – and the cost of that extra technology is slowly jacking up the price of new cars

The trouble is, most drivers aren’t even using the safety kit. A recent study by Direct Line found that owners are shunning safety tech for being ‘actively annoying’ – and I’d probably count myself amongst that group. Once I’m done testing a car’s safety tech as a reviewer, I habitually turn it all off. That begs the question as to why people like me should be forced to pay for features they have no interest in using?

If BMW (and, indeed, every new car maker) paid closer attention to how its owners actually used their cars and adjusted its standard kit list to suit, it might be able to undo some of the effects of shrinkflation and create a breed of new cars that are more convenient to live with and more fun to drive. All it takes is the bravery of one brand to prove it’s possible.

And plucky little Leapmotor might be the company that sets the new precedent. It has a reputation as the disruptor who kickstarted the UK’s latest EV price war – but it also has its sights set on reforming safety tech. Back in April, it told me its customers aren’t using lane assist and speed assist, so it’s prepared to switch the technology off by default to make its cars more user-friendly.

Leapmotor will probably lose a Euro NCAP star off each of its vehicles if it follows through with this plan – but that could be a gamble worth taking if it proves to legislators that qualified drivers can be trusted to control their own cars.

Then, maybe, once manufacturers can stop focusing all their efforts on safety tech, they might have some spare hours in the day to revitalise their cars’ handling characteristics, lower their prices and inject some fun back into their work.

But for now, my ideal BMW is one exactly like this 330Ci. Driving dynamics from an era when handling was always prioritised over software, enough passive safety equipment to protect you in the very worst-case scenario and a few sympathetic upgrades to make it just familiar enough for the modern age.

My grandad was right. They really don’t make ‘em like they used to.

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Update five: Farewell

Time’s up. The M135 is going back to BMW. I’ve had an uneventful four months with it, too. It’s whisked me around in speedy, reliable comfort. The trouble is, I never really bonded with it – and that’s concerning for such an emotional and expensive purchase.

Nobody really needs a hot hatchback. They’re irrational, exciting vehicles for people with rational, average lifestyles – and they justify their steeper starting prices by making the suffocating drudgery of everyday life that little bit more interesting. They’re supposed to make you feel special.

The M135 doesn’t fit that mould. It’s too sensible when driven slowly and overly clinical when you get the hammer down, which sponges all the fun out of the experience. Hell, if you never floored the throttle, you’d struggle to tell it apart from a well-specced 120.

As far as I’m concerned, that’s criminal. I’ll use my old Suzuki Swift Sport long-termer to explain why. It only had 129hp, but it drove like a little rally car. It was lithe, willing, playful and it barely had enough grip to keep itself on the Tarmac. That makes you work as a driver – and the best fun is found when you’re on the limit of what both you and your car can do.

But the M135 is so irrepressibly capable that, most of the time, I felt like a passenger. It didn’t need me to work hard to carry frankly ridiculous speeds on challenging roads, nor did it encourage me to. It was quite happy cruising up the A1 at 70mph. But if your hot hatchback isn’t constantly egging you on to turn off the motorway and fling it down a fell road, is it really a proper hot hatchback?

What’s good about the M135?

It’s quick. BMW might have dialled back the M135’s performance for its facelift, but 300hp is still a healthy figure. Plus, its short gearing means it can accelerate quickly. Its laggy throttle response and dim-witted automatic gearbox mean it isn’t quite as ballistic as a Volkswagen Golf R, but I reckon the M135’s chassis is poised enough to make up that difference in the corners.

It’s tenaciously grippy. When we were gathering the dynamic photography for this report, our snapper – who was hiding in the long grass 200 yards away from the corner – had to politely ask me to slow down. The M135 changes direction so quickly that he couldn’t track it with his lens. I was constantly ahead of where he expected me to be.

I’ve also found this car quite easy to live with. The front seats are fantastically supportive and very adjustable, so I never cramped up on a long drive. Build quality and refinement are equally impressive. The only issue I found was some higher-than-average wind noise whistling around the front doors but, if it was my car, I reckon I could solve that by packing the seals with some rubber tubing.

What’s annoyed you about the M135?

It’s utterly characterless. BMW has drained the life from the M135’s engine, bled the waywardness from its chassis and sterilised its steering system. For the last four months, I’ve felt like I’ve been playing a driving simulator on the easiest setting.

As I mentioned above, it also doesn’t require any skill to pedal the M135 quickly. That’s a shame, because honing your driving technique is all part of the hot hatchback ownership experience as far as I’m concerned.

The ride is always a bit busy, too. I’m better equipped to deal with this than my colleagues because all my mates used to tear about in clapped-out hatchbacks on cast-iron coil overs. But Keith recently borrowed my M135 and he told me he felt he travelled just as far vertically as he did horizontally on the motorway, such was the bounciness of the chassis.

Last complaint before I say my final goodbye. I don’t care for the M135’s steering wheel. I was going to let this slide but, after spending a fortnight in an old 330Ci, I realised just how obnoxiously chubby BMW’s steering wheels have become in the past 20 years. A thinner wheel is far easier to wrestle with, especially when you’re driving quickly. Audi and Volkswagen do this better.

What’s the verdict?

Not great, I’m afraid. When I took delivery of my M135, I set out to determine whether BMW still made the best-driving hot hatchback. Having spent four months living with its latest offering, I don’t think it does any more.

The M-powered 1 Series is now too predictable, too flattering, too grippy and too sensible to be considered a true driver’s car. There’s also very little fun to be found at the limit of its capability, and it feels remarkably like a normal 1 Series at slow speeds.

That’s disappointing, especially when I consider how much fun I had in the mechanically related MINI Cooper S. It was utterly hilarious – snarly, combative, agile and always slightly unsettled, just like a hot hatch should be.

I really wish BMW could have grafted the Cooper S’s spirit onto the M135. Even the faintest whiff of that character would have made it a far better sparring partner for the Volkswagen Golf R. But, as it stands, the Golf is the one I’d buy.

The mighty have certainly fallen.

Current mileage	5,028
Real-world average fuel economy	29.5mpg
Official combined fuel economy (WLTP figures)	34.0–37.2mpg
Car joined Parkers fleet	April 2025