Ryanair built an operation that dominates short-haul European discount flying. Yet the 10-year returns are only 308%. Banks won't accept exploration shares as bluechip collateral either, but few shareholders would accept such modest returns on our IPOs.

Ryanair doesn't pay dividends directly but its activities cut flight prices through competition. Most of the value created has gone to customers - usually not even Ryanair's. If you try to help, you frequently harm. Yet if you set out to make money, you usually do good.

When Mick O'Leary relaunched Ryanair, Europe wasn't short of airlines, but it needed a new approach to business. The idea behind affordable air travel wasn't new; it resembled what Henry Ford had done with cars - slashing cost to achieve volume. Discounters hired low-paid staff and worked them harder. Legacy carriers were encumbered by restrictive union work practices and bene"t schemes.

But eventually newcomers will be burdened with aging, demanding employees and higher-maintenance aircraft. That's why O'Leary breaks traditional compromises by obsessing about cost, so that Ryanair's edge is unassailable.

The inherited industry norm was inefficient: short-haul travellers don't need expensive, tasteless food with a choice of wines. Work out what needs your customers will pay for.

Solutions often mean streamlining processes, not tarting them up.

O'Leary unleashes overwhelming force against opponents - for example, by threatening profit sanctuaries. Smart competitors get the message fast, and retreat. He isn't satisfied with today's competitive advantage. He wants tomorrow's. Competitors are beaten unless they differentiate.

But O'Leary also surprises competitors with indirect attacks.

Sudden price wars or announcing an industry downturn can damage your share price - as last week - and trigger calls to resign. But they focus markets on Ryanair's cost advantage and deprive challengers of capital.

O'Leary also exploits anomalies by driving aggressive deals instead of keeping his head down in challenging circumstances, as with using remote airports and huge Boeing orders after 11 September 2001. Once a distressed counterparty cuts such a deal, he must be tougher with your competitor to make money overall. The purchase both gave Ryanair an edge and locked in the competitor's handicap.

Broken compromises confuse traditional competitors who remain frozen in the mindset that produced the consensus. Something unusual is usually happening. Yet management is blind. Anomalies offer opportunities to operate differently.

25 May: Cambridge I WALKED the grounds of my undergraduate college for the first time in 25 years. It was an intense part of my life - and then vanished as career and postgraduate work took over. Something can be integral to your life and then disappear, but it remains a formative influence.

Contrast that with Harvard Business School, where old boys dragged you into the system before you even applied. They sought candidates and encouraged them to do an MBA. They offered cheap money, jobs and press-ganged you into alumni organisations.

A distinguished former academic invited me back to a 'Fellows' guest dinner'. The new college master is mathematician Frank Kelly, of Donegal stock. Also attending was the contraceptive pill's inventor.

As Darwin's anniversary approaches, we discussed how Christ's College should honour its most famous son. I had assumed that clergyman Darwin had deftly dodged controversy by initially excluding humans from his theory, but his biographer corrected me.

Suddenly I realised why they'd invited their rebellious graduate.

What linked us with Darwin was pragmatic faith in reason.

31 May, The Shelbourne Goffs boss Eimear Mulhern threw another glamorous bash to launch the 2007 Goffs Millions horse sale and race. In an industry not noted for grooming female talent, Mulhern carved out a role as breeder and chairman of Goffs Bloodstock Sales.

Ireland's property tycoon Bernard McNamara sponsors the event for the second year running - this time for his Parknasilla Hotel, frequented by luminaries from Princess Grace to Charles de Gaulle.

Bloodstock appears impenetrable to outsiders. The Millions concept offers the prospect of a generous prize after only a year of horse ownership. The formula targets new punters. Much new Irish money has been generated by builders. Their horsey roots are in National Hunt rather than flat racing.

They aspire to champagne but are more used to pints. Property developers combine superficial brashness with deeper insecurity: often they have chips on both shoulders. They are rich yet crave recognition. Hopefully they'll buy some horses before they lose it all.