You have the blender and the recipes. The health coach behind this $27 program says what you are missing is the order.

Over 36 recipes are what you would expect. The 21-day order they come in is what the vendor says you are really paying for.

The vendor hands you a full year to judge it. The only question left is whether you start the clock.

Ten ingredients, three prices and a year to decide. One line on the sales page tells you whether to bother at all.

A headline promises to turn a girl into your girlfriend with one simple move. The move itself is nowhere in the page text.

The sales page promises one simple move for a girl who is playing hard to get. Its headline never says what that move is.

The price on the page is zero, the input is a date you never chose, and there is one thing ClickBank data tells you before you start.

It asks for one date and costs nothing on the page we read, yet one detail it never prints is worth knowing before you start.

Its creator knew football for a decade and still lost. The whole model is built around that one uncomfortable gap.

A £27 season pass, a hard cap of 50 members, and a first card that went out on 21 August. Here is what the model sends you, and what nobody can promise you.