I FORGET the name of the philosopher who said mony a mickle maks a muckle but, boy, he was right on the money.
Here's the basic working: lots of little things make a large thing. It's an idea that's been growing in my head, like a big oak from a little acorn. In case you were wondering, that's why foliage keeps falling out of my ears.
Allow me to present you with exhibit A, your worshipfulness.
Recently, I brought order to my finances, by paying more attention to supermarket prices, and changing my insurance, both for the car and for Wit's End (ma hoose).
Each little bit didn't seem worth bothering about in itself, but the way to take command of the situation is to tot up the annual figure.
This'll flabbergast you: I spent £463.55 a year on apples.
They're good for you, and I'm not going to cut down. But I'm now buying cheaper than my usual top-of-the-range, organic, grown-by-elves, executive-style fruit for the feckless.
Exhibit B: the football.
Let me tell you this, mister: I will never pay more than £20 (well, not after years of doing so anyway) to watch a Scottish football match, not at least until 3014 when inflation might have caught up with it.
A Scottish football match is worth £8.50 max, and certainly not the £27 sometimes charged. What is this, the opera?
Loads of my mates are the same. We don't go any more.
But if the blazers in charge reduced the prices, we'd go back. Thousands of us. You'd have bigger crowds, more inspired players and, crucially, less bitterness from the spectators, who yowl nowadays because they've paid a fortune to watch this tripe.
Consider Germany. They've already got their haus in order: low ticket prices, big crowds, game prospering. Everyone's a winner.
So I daresay it'll never catch on in Loserland.
Exhibit C: yonder internet. Don't charge large amounts of money for small numbers of people to access your website. Charge large amounts of people small amounts of money. They won't mind paying.
Pennies, laddie. Multiply them by millions and you're quids in.
It's so obvious, but you Earthlings can never see the universe for the stars.
The philosopher points at the Moon and all you see is a finger. Well, get your digit out - and start fiddling with your mickles, folks.