I don't read reviews. I find the whole format faintly embarrassing — the star systems, the "pros and cons" subheadings, the people who use the word "bouclé" in a sentence without irony. I once spent forty-five minutes at a dinner party next to someone who described themselves as a "product enthusiast" and I think about that evening more than is healthy.
I don't have opinions about products. I have observations. Observations are different. Observations are just things you notice, neutrally, without forming a view or a ranking or a considered position on the merits relative to comparable items in the category. I am not in a category. I do not compare.
It was Sunday. The news was the same as yesterday but with different pictures. I had made tea I wasn't drinking and opened a small box that had arrived on Friday and that I had been ignoring with some discipline — not the kind of person who tears into packages the way I imagine a product enthusiast would, with purpose and a camera. I am the kind of person who waits until Sunday when the news is the same as yesterday and the tea has gone cold and there is nothing else available that counts as a decision.
The Multi-Mini But Mighty arrived in four parts. One stainless steel core. Four silicone sleeves. Each sleeve attaches to the core and does something different. The box was neat. The instructions were clear. The motor — and I am noting this as an observation and not a product feature highlight — is the quietest in the huxi range, which matters to me in a way that has nothing to do with reviewing and everything to do with the fact that I live in a flat and my neighbour's name is Gerald.
I tried the first configuration. I noticed things about it. I moved to the second. I noticed different things. The third configuration — and I want to be clear that I am not ranking these, I am simply describing a pattern of behaviour — is the one I have returned to on three subsequent Sundays. The news has been the same as the previous day's each time. The tea has gone cold each time. The third configuration has remained consistently the configuration I select. This is not a ranking. It is a data point.
The fourth configuration also exists. I have thoughts about it. I am keeping them to myself because sharing them would imply I had been paying close enough attention to form a view, and I am an observer, not a reviewer, and observers don't share rankings.
I will say that £125 for what is functionally four products sharing one motor invites a certain kind of analysis that I am not going to do, because I am not a reviewer, so I am not going to point out that configuration three alone — based on three consecutive Sundays of return visits and one Tuesday that I am not counting — would, if priced individually at market rate for something this effective and this quiet, comfortably retail at £60. Configuration one, which I have used twice and would use again without being asked, perhaps £35. Configuration four, about which I have thoughts I am not sharing, I would conservatively value at £45. Configuration two exists and functions correctly and Gerald has never known about it: £30.
That is £170 of observed utility for £125. I am not doing the maths on this. I have done the maths on this.
The guarantee is sixty days. Guaranteed orgasm or your money back. I did not require the guarantee. I am noting it the way a reviewer would note it, which I am not doing.
The ranking is: three, one, four, two. I am not publishing this.
£125. Four configurations. One core. The quietest motor in the range. Gerald has not knocked. — Charlie
