Flush the chain at your own peril

RECEIVED a chain letter and reached down to file it in the usual place - a circular, free-standing, plastic-lined filing cabinet where we file half-eaten meals, dog-ends and shares in Shenzhen warehouse firms.

But then something caught our eye.

This chain letter looked exactly like the ''all things are possible'' chain letter that turns up in Hong Kong offices every few days.

You know the one. It starts: ''This letter has been sent to you for good luck'' and gives examples of the good luck which befell those who sent copies onwards.

But the new one now going around Hong Kong is obviously a revised version: This letter has travelled around the world 70 times. Make 20 copies and send it on within four days.

Haywood Daddit, an unemployed chicken choker, received the letter and forgot that it had to leave his hands within 96 hours. His wife then went bowling with his best friend and never returned.


Later, after finding the letter again, he mailed out 20 copies. A few days later, he got a new wife and discovered that his old wife, who he had thought was wonderful, had made love to him like a dead salmon all these years.

Allan Fairchild received the letter and threw it away. Nine days later he spilt hot coffee into his lap.

Herbert Pudstrom received the chain in 1963. He asked his secretary to make 20 copies. A few days later he encountered her in a red light district making more money than he had ever paid her.

You must distribute this letter within 96 hours of receiving it. Those who do not will be doomed to one-night stands with mechanical devices.


Quick. Where do we keep stamps around here? Nicht politik WOULD somebody kindly tell the people at Dok Won Industrial Corp of Seoul that ''Sir'' is not spelt ''surm'', especially when writing to German companies.

The company recently wrote to a German-run firm in Hong Kong, starting the letter with ''Dear Surm''.


Surm is German for ''idiot''.

Pie-light zone DRUSILLA Read of Braemar Hill gingerly cut into a genuine British meat pie she had bought from Marks and Spencer at the weekend.

It seemed somewhat on the light side.


This was because it had no meat in it. In fact it didn't have anything at all in it, except some genuine British empty space.

Unlike the Coke can mentioned in this column recently, there was no pinhole through which the contents could have escaped.

Her husband, Tony Read of Ove Arup and Partners, commented: ''Shall we send M & S the phone number of a certain Mrs Wong to solve the mystery?'' It's probably the low-calorie version of the meat pie, Drusilla.


Nothing added AJAY Hira of World Wide Garden, Sha Tin, recently got a bill from Hongkong Telecom for $0.00.

A note had been added to the bottom of the bill: ''This is a copy bill. The original was sent to you last month. Please make payment within 10 days.'' ''Should I send cash or a cheque?'' he asked.

We suggest you send them an envelope containing nothing but a letter saying: ''I enclose the contents of a meat pie from Marks and Spencer as a barter payment to meet my bill of $0.00.'' Copy your own A PUNTER decided to get a copy of Miramar's annual report yesterday, so he nipped into the head office in the Miramar Hotel in Nathan Road.

Staff said he could not have a copy. However, he could borrow one, take it down to the hotel business centre, photocopy it at $2 a page and bring it back.

Another punter, billionaire Lee Shau-kee, must have read the annual report before his recent $3.35 billion purchase of Miramar shares.

Bet he wasn't too pleased at having to stand in the business centre paying $2 a page to copy it.

Falling Batmen MARGE Boule, a columnist for Portland newspaper The Oregonian, found an example of Instructions for Incredibly Stupid Consumers on a Batman Returns costume made by Kenner company.

The company, aware that most Americans have the brains of peat moss, thoughtfully included a warning that the plastic body armour was not really protective.

It also adds: ''CAUTION - FOR PLAY ONLY: Cape does not enable user to fly.'' A Curser's Tale BEEN ripped off by majority shareholders? Harassed by your boss? Don't mumble under your breath about their oedipal activities with their mothers, as is the norm in Hong Kong.

Abuse them out loud with high-class insults. Two Americans recently combed the works of Shakespeare and found 5,000 erudite curses, which are being released as a book: Shakespeare's Insults: Educating Your Wit, by Wayne F. Hill and Cynthia J. Ottchen (MainSail, US$11.95).

Try this on your boss: ''You drone; snail; slug; sot; ass; drunkard; churl; malt-horse; capon; patch; baggage; goer-backward; cuckold; drudge; taffeta punk; scolding queen; scurvy lord; witty fool's clog; timorous thief . . . God's lid! Go rot! Good sooth!'' Yodel be sorry MANY people in Hong Kong like to sing while driving, often with the aid of Panasonic's in-car karaoke systems.

But beware if you go on holiday in Europe. It has been declared illegal to yodel while driving in Switzerland.

So when you've got your karaoke film music disc in, be sure to skip the track on The Sound of Music about goat-herds, which goes: ''Yodeleyhi-yodeleyhi-yodeley-hi-hoo.''