It is a slow day in a cold little French Ski resort village called Morzine. The snow is tumbling out of the sky and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit. On this particular day a rich Country Gent from Devon, England is visiting the town in a bashed up old Aston, checking out possible venues for some future upper middle class adventure with his mates. He stops at the local hotel and lays a €100 note on the desk, telling the hotel owner he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to pick one to spend the night. The owner, Monsieur Homme D'Or, gives him some keys and, as soon as the Gent has walked upstairs, the hotelier grabs the €100 note and runs next door to pay his debt to the local butcher, none other than Monsieur Nigel Sturgess. Monsieur Sturgess takes the €100 note and runs down the street to repay his debt to Monsieur Pope the pig farmer. Monsieur Pope takes the €100 note and heads off to pay his bill at the supplier of feed and fuel, Monsieur Tim Le Roi. Monsieur Le Roi takes the €100 note and runs to pay his drinks bill at the pub. The publican, Monsieur Longrigg, slips the money along to the local prostitute drinking at the bar, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer him "services" on credit. The hooker then rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill to Monsieur Homme D'Or with the €100 note. Monsieur Homme D'Or then places the €100 note back on the counter so the rich Gent from Devon will not suspect anything. At that moment the Gent comes down the stairs, picks up the €100 note, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, pockets the money, and leaves town. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole town is now out of debt and looking to the future with a lot more optimism.
And that, my friends, is how we will pay for our skiing holiday in January.