If this book is anything to go by, then it is also a source of great pride in the British Isles, although this book takes it a little bit far sometimes. Whoever wrote the blurb on the back of the dust-jacket can't seriously believe that this is "one of motor racing's last untold stories", and if they do then I suggest that they check out Martin Beck-Burridge and Jeremy Walton's Britain's Winning Formula, a volume that did a more comprehensive job of telling exactly the same story four years ago.

Couldwell comes across as a thoroughly nice, enthusiastic bloke, but there seem to be a few holes in his understanding of Formula One. How much of a problem this presents depends upon your background and what you are hoping to get out of the book - if you are interested in technological industries and couldn't give a dog's bollocks about David Coulthard's qualifying pace or how well the Michelins work in the wet, then it might not matter to you that Ross Brawn and Trevor Carlin's names are spelt incorrectly, or that Paul Radisich is a New Zealander, not an Australian. (We antipodeans get very touchy about that last one).

There's also a case for arguing that the book has been let down a little by an oversimplified structure. After some nice introductory work that lays down a historical backdrop, Couldwell simply barrels through the British F1 world team-by-team, with stops at the likes of Pi Research, Ilmor and B3 Technologies along the way. A chapter about the sport's powerbrokers tips a hat to the fact that the Mosleys and Ecclestones of the world are English, while another casts a syrupy eye over the various Brits that have strapped their backsides to Formula One cars through the years.

This approach works well at the beginning. Couldwell provides a genuinely interesting account of his visit to McLaren, and offers the reader a real sense of the team's corporate philosophy. Other good material can be found in the Jordan chapter, such as the surprisingly candid remarks of the team's Marketing Director, Mark Gallagher:

"Rather ironically, our success in 1999 turned out to be a collection of poisoned chalices. It brought us a lot more sponsorship from Deutsche Post, adding to the Benson and Hedges money. Having a lot of sponsorship is a good thing, but if it isn't spent wisely, if complacency sets in in any shape or form and if that sponsorship is being spent at a time when the team is going through huge instability, then no amount of money is going to make up for a disconnected technical infrastructure.

"You're just spending money on a bad process and system. Looking back on it today, you'd have to say Deutsche Post chose the worst three years to be with us, and I suspect in a year or two's time we'll run into them over a beer and discuss why they were with us at a time when things were not working." (p. 85)

Elsewhere in the book though, you often get the feeling that the author is not really sure to make of what he's got, and that he's just visited a facility because it was next on the list.

As well as leaving a lot of bare patches in the book, this approach is thematically inconsistent. A better idea would perhaps have been to organise the book according to relevant themes (for example, the interface between technological and manufacturing industries, or the trickle-down of information and expertise from F1 to smaller categories), and then draw upon relevant information from the various teams to illustrate different points.

The obligatory wad of pictures has been wedged into the middle of the book, and as is often the case, they add absolutely nothing to the overall experience other than, presumably, the price. Are black and white shots of Eddie Irvine and Jenson Button missing from your life? Didn't think so.