We've had this for a few hours now. When we heard Kelvin had a book published, naturally we were intrigued. Might even stretch that out and say we were impressed. Finding out from the man himself that it was about how to become a racing driver we were instantly sold. "Who doesn't want to be a racing car driver?!" we said. Off we trotted over to Amazon and duly ordered three copies, certain that our time on the track was going to go down in the record books now and our new career awaited. This bloke knows his stuff and it felt like we'd been let into the magic circle. 

The first thing we noticed (after we'd driven the 5 miles to collect one of the books as we'd missed the delivery) was, how can we put this, the packaging was rather on the slender side. We didn't read the details when we hunted the book down, it was a purchase made in excitement, so we'd naturally been expecting a tome to study and reflect on. A beefy package was what we were hoping to grip. That wasn't to be. It's worth saying that the three books were posted out in two lots. So popular were they in the Christmas rush, we imagine, that Amazon had been out of stock and needed to print more. 

Getting back to Kunstvoller HQ we carefully ripped open the cardboard sleeve. What was contained inside, having cost a mere £5 of cold hard cash (that's each by the way, £15 in total) was, wait for it . . . 

A pamphlet. 

That's OK we thought. We're busy people. Kelvin's kept the advice to 'minimum wordage, maximum effect'. As you can see, that's the approach we go for too. We turned to the back cover, something we could've read on Amazon, but as we've already stated, we chose to forgo such research. What's that saying? Decide in haste, repent at leisure? Some lovely old bollocks like that. It became almost immediately apparent that we were going to find no useful advice in this slither of a book at all. Our hearts did sink. To say we felt conned is a bit harsh . . . it was more of a borderline niggle 'cause we kind of admire his audacity. 

We turned the fans off so the breeze didn't blow the book away and settled down to have a read. That was the plan. What it was more like was looking through a colouring book with some little insights (that gives too much weight to what he has to say but we can't think of a better word) on how to break into the world of car racing. We worked our way through the first 10 pages – stopping for a cup of tea midpoint – finished the remainder, then sat back to gather our thoughts on what had just happened. 

Side Note: When darkness fell we discovered a home delivery of the other two books. They'd been poking out of the letterbox all day (as you can see) and nobody had stolen them. That is quite something round these parts, so take from that what you will. Seeing them like this brought to mind an illustration from the book itself, and spookily, a photo we took on a snowboarding trip a few years back. Coincidence? We thinks not.

We won't share anymore details or photos. There's frankly such scant pickings we'd end up posting the whole book. He hasn't given us permission to share this one photo as it is, but as we're skint anyway we'd laugh if he tried to sue us.

Kelvin is probably as barmy, if not as clever, as us. We like his style. We like his drawings. We like the fact he talks as much shit as we do. That's well thought out shit you see . . . even if it comes out his mouth or his hands unfiltered, at some point, way back when, his brain put thought into checking it out and agreed it was good to go. That's why he has a book published, we don't, and you probably haven't*.

Our verdict on this literary masterpiece? We fucking love it. Sitting here in our undies we feel superior with our newly gained knowledge. Once Kunstvoller starts washing its mush we're going to take his advice, go buy a car, and take him on at his own game. Watch your back Hassell . . . you've fed the monster. 

Book length:

21 pages of reading material. 

(Amazon states 46 pages. We went back to check. Can only presume you're meant to purchase in pairs, because even counting blank pages, plus the front and back cover, there's still only 26. What a swizz.)

Reading age:

Probably about 10.

Some questionable illustrations though, so Tipp-Ex may be advisable depending on how you're bringing up your kids. 

You can buy this book by clicking the handy photo below. Help buy him some tyres or something. 

*If you do have a book published, forgive us. Who knows, maybe we'll review that too. 


4 Comments