Once upon a time we had no money, so we had to beg the banks to allow us to borrow at sky-high interest rates. Now we have loads of money, which we interpret as meaning that we have more with which to pay off our loans. So we owe more than ever.
For every €1 of after-tax income in 2004, Irish people owed €1.20. We are all up to our eyes in debt. Except, of course, for Eddie Hobbs. He has taught us that debt is emotionally crippling and socially isolating. While also great entertainment. As Minister for Finance, Brian Cowen can never hope to be so popular unless he calls to each household and badgers us into admitting how much we spend on shoes each year.
Too many people want to give you money. Your best friend wouldn't spot you €20 in the pub the other day, but a bank you've never met before wants to give you €10,000. You call the credit-card company to say you can't afford to pay this month's bill - and it chooses that moment to offer you a higher credit limit. Small children earning extra pocket money on paper rounds seem to be able to get approval for mortgages of €350,000. The bank manager talks about your loan as if you're buying a bag of mince. Throw in another €50,000. Just in case. It's better to have too much than too little.
In a cashless society it's hard to know how much cash you don't have. The cashless society is being created not for our convenience but as a conspiracy to keep us blind to how much we're spending. All you can be sure of is that the sound the Laser-card reader makes at the cash till is disturbingly similar to that of your overdraft limit stretching.
It all means that none of us owns any of the things we have bought. The house belongs to the bank, the car to the finance company and the computer to PC World. And unless you pay that VHI bill soon it's going to come and repossess your pacemaker. We hang on every interest-rate change. Half a per cent either way can mean the difference between a 28in widescreen TV and a 32in one. A full per cent can mean choosing between a new sofa and food for a month. Some day, inevitably, the economy will go belly-up. Some day all our cheques are going to bounce at once. Interest rates will soar, and the banks will stop being your best pal. And when that happens you will sit on the street in your cardboard box and remember with great fondness the time when you owned a third of a Fiat Punto. How you were once only a single payment away from owning the footstool of a living-room suite.