Half a decent book about a man who cannae stop selling you the shoes.

Bought this off a lad at work who swears by it. He's got it on the shelf next to a book about Navy SEALs, which tells you the crowd it's written for.

The first bit's alright, actually. Knight's a shy accountant flogging trainers out the boot of a car at track meets, getting knocked back by the bank every year, terrified the Japanese suppliers are going to pull the plug on him. That's a proper story. Naebody's a genius yet. He's just skint and stubborn and better at it than he lets on.

Then the money arrives and the book turns into an advert. Every dodgy call becomes bold. Every fella he falls out with was holding the company back. The whole business about where the shoes were getting made and who was making them gets about a page and a half, and he's very sorry, and on we go. Aye, right.

The chapter about his boy is the only honest thing in the back half and it's stuck on the end like an afterthought, which I suspect is how he wrote it.

Six. Read the first half on the train and gie the rest a bye.