It began, as these wacky events have a tendency to, in California. It was taken up, then taken over, as they inevitably are, by a foundation funded by one of America’s richest men, a conservative Christian billionaire who owns a string of sports teams, venues and stadiums.

A random act of kindness meeting specific acts of entrepreneurialism spawned a worldwide movement of good actions, gifts and downright gratitude culminating in this day, today.

It was in a Sausalito restaurant in 1982 when Anne Herbert scrawled the words “practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty” on a place mat. It was a play on the phrase "random acts of violence and senseless acts of cruelty".

This was before the take-off of social media but, in that far-off analogue age it spread and set off a chain reaction, taken up by newspapers and radio and TV stations, things broke out spontaneously, like taping – not supergluing! – coins to playgrounds for kids to find, or fight over, smiling at strangers (not without its risks), or taking some freshly-baked cakes to a neighbour, but not if he has a tendency to come out with a hammer (like mine).

It didn’t become formalised as the Random Acts of Kindness Day – indeed burgeoning to a week, today being the first of this year's celebrations – until the Random Act of Kindness Foundation was set up in 1995. It is the US equivalent of a charity, a non-profit organisation, based in Denver, Colorado, and has an annual income of around $2 million.

Its president is Gary Dixon, wo went to Brigham Young University, a private one entirely own by the Mormons. His number two is Brooke Jones, who believes every office should offer yoga and a room full of kittens, rather than the normal slavering rats.

RAK is sponsored by the billionaire Philip Anschutz’ family charitable foundation. As you would be if you were him, he’s a very private person, and worth around $13 billion.

His foundation has been criticised in the past for funding anti-gay and LGBT groups, but over the last couple of years has cut funding to them. Among other trifles, the Anschutz Entertainment Group, owns the LA Galaxy football team, the San Jose Earthquakes and a share in the basketball team, the LA Lakers, the Coachella Festival and venues like the O2 in London.

So, what can you do today, in a randomly targeted way in what some might describe as the commercialisation of kindness?

Suggestions include letting someone in the supermarket queue go before you, buying extra food and donate to a foodbank, post anonymous stickies with uplifting messages for people to find (spraypainting is a no-no), leaving a note on someone’s car telling them how well they parked – no, forget that, they’ll consider it cynicism or sexism – buy a coffee for the person behind you in the queue at Starbucks or Costa, or you could practise self-kindness, which sounds altogether more realistic, by spending 30 minutes doing something you love today.

Like looking in the mirror?

This is, you have to admit, pretty small on ambition. Nowhere does it suggest perhaps relieving the debt burden on struggling African economies, or sending the solution to the Brexit conundrum to Theresa May and the EU’s chief negotiator Michel Barnier. Or letting Defence Secretary Gavin Williamson know where he can find the aircraft he needs to put on the plane-less new carrier, HMS Queen Elizabeth, which he is sending to the South China Sea to take on the Chinese when it isn’t even launched yet.

Williamson is one of the yapping pack of recent intake Tories who are just waiting for the bloodied Prime Minister to make her final stumble (can’t be long off) before pouncing. He looks and talks like one of those glib and shiny financial advisers who mis-sold pensions, and is probably dim enough to have sold one to himself.

He was co-owner of a Staffordshire pottery company which, famously, produced a range of tableware for Charles and Camilla’s wedding with the wrong date on it. No surprise there, then.

Of course, the greatest act of kindness would be to put Theresa May out of her misery. It could begin by sending her a timepiece, without the necessary mechanical works, so it couldn’t be run down on Brexit. Or a programme, any programme, for a way ahead. Her software library is clearly bare – she’s obviously gone control, alt delete through the lot searching for one that works. Or a Plan B? Baldrick has a cunning one he may be tempted to share.

She’ll be at church today – she never misses a religious photo-op on a Sunday – at St Andrew’s Church in Sonning, Berkshire. The vicar there is the Reverend Jamie Taylor. The greatest kindness he could do today is to base the lesson on Genesis 4:12. “When you till the ground it shall no longer yield to you its strength, you shall be a fugitive and vagabond on the earth [in perpetual exile, a degraded outcast]."

Then there’s Jacob Rees-Mogg. What could be kinder than sending him a single-breasted suit because that dark blue, double-breasted one passed down from his dad has seen better days? I’ve spotted the perfect replacement on ebay, a green and grey check vintage number from John Collier (“the window to watch”) for £10. Hell, I’ll even pay for it myself.

The greatest kindness for Nicola Sturgeon would be if Angus MacNeil and his chums shut up about indyref2, at least until March. For MSP Ross Greer it would be a pair of long trousers, and for Tory MP Ross Thomson a jacket without sleeves, perhaps a strait one?

For the Old Firm managers, Rodgers and Gerrard, the greatest kindness would be the defenestration of SFA compliance officer Clare Whyte. It would be pushing it too far to imagine them sending each other texts with good wishes for the future.

For me it will be the usual selfless Sunday, a large charitable donation followed by my volunteering stint pushing a hospital trolley, which, of course, I never talk about.