Nothing you type is stored on our servers, shared with anyone, or sold. There is no account and nothing to attach it to.

What would it do? Who pays for it? Where would you start? What could you spend on it? What would make this worth doing?

Worth answering properly. A market worth £2m a year is a good living or a dead end depending on what you are after, and the answer changes with it.

These three are optional. They sharpen it, and the last one often decides it.

How do they cope without it today?optional How would you find these people?optional

Be honest here. “No idea yet” is a perfectly good answer, and it changes what you get back.

Anything you already haveoptional

Your idea is never kept — only what the search turned up about the market.

Free, three a day, no account. A minute or two, and nothing is held back.

Right, let’s see who is already doing this… A minute or two. Go and do something else — switch tabs, close this one, come back later. The answer is kept for a day and will be waiting.

What it does

Your friends will say it is a great idea. So will an AI, with a market size nobody can source. Prior researches it, tells you either way, and shows where every line came from.

No score out of a hundred Because a score is a number nobody can check.

Everything else in this corner of the internet gives you one. It looks like an answer and it is a guess with a decimal point on it. You get a sentence instead, and the evidence it came from.

Prices are checked, not just linked Each one fetched from the seller’s own page, today.

A link only promises a page said something once, and it looks just as convincing when the address was invented. Every price here is fetched while you wait, and says which: on the page today, not on that page today, or the page did not answer. A company that does not exist has no page to read.

It remembers your other ideas And tells you when a new one repeats an old one.

Every conversation starts from nothing, so seven sound answers can hide one problem seven times over. After three checks this counts what they have in common. A chat cannot, however good it is: it has no memory of the last one.

Nothing is dressed up as certain You can tell which half to trust before you read a word.

A market size is an estimate — worked out from what could be found, not read off anybody’s accounts. It is shown as an estimate rather than tidied into something that sounds settled. If it’s a rough number, it looks like a rough number.

What happens to what you type Your idea stays in this browser.

On our side, almost nothing. A finished answer waits a day under a random number with no name on it, so a check you walked away from is still there when you come back. Then it goes. Your idea itself is never stored.

In this browser, everything. Your last forty checks and their answers stay here until you clear them — that is how you can reopen one for nothing, and how it spots a repeat. “Forget everything” at the bottom of the page removes the lot, and clearing your browser data does the same.

No account, no email, nothing to attach to you. The record we keep never includes your idea, only the kind of market and the prices found in it.

To answer it, your idea goes to an AI and a few search terms go to a search engine. It is a business account rather than a consumer chatbot: what is sent is not used to train anything. Summaries of ideas you checked before go with it, so the answer can spot a repeat. Clearing this browser clears those.

An idea has to leave your machine to be checked against the world. Anything promising otherwise would not be true.

Not because they are lazy. Because checking is slow and dull, and because an idea feels better before you look.

You think of something on a Sunday. It sits with you for a week. You tell one person and they say it sounds good. By the time it occurs to you to find out whether somebody already built it, you are attached to it, and the search you do is the one that confirms what you hope.

Then six months later you find the company that has been doing it since 2023, with funding, and you wonder how you missed them. You did not miss them. You did not look properly, because looking properly is two hours of tedium and the answer is usually disappointing.

Where this came from

Prior was built after an evening spent checking seven business ideas by hand. Each one seemed reasonable. Each was researched properly, one after another, and each got a clear answer.

It took until the seventh to notice that six of them had come unstuck on exactly the same thing. Every conversation had been sound. The pattern only existed across them, and there was nowhere it could be seen.

That is the part no amount of thinking gets you to, because it is not visible from inside any single idea. It needs something that remembers.

What it does differently

It searches before it answers. Not from memory — a company you half remember may have been acquired, repriced or closed, and a competitor named from recollection is worse than none at all.

Then it separates what it found from what it assumed, and shows you which is which. Market sizes are almost always assumptions, however careful the arithmetic, and Prior says so rather than dressing them up.

There is no score out of a hundred. Every other tool in this space gives you one, and a score is exactly the kind of confident number nobody can check — which is the thing this was built to avoid.

What it is honest about

It will often tell you to stop. That is not pessimism, it is arithmetic: most ideas have already occurred to somebody with more money and a head start.

But it will also tell you when there is a way past them, and it is specific about what that way is. A market with five competitors and one unserved buyer is a better place to be than an empty one, and knowing which you are looking at is the whole job.

And it improves as you use it. After three checks it starts telling you what your ideas have in common — which is the finding that took an evening and seven conversations to arrive at by hand.