ANYONE looking for a great business should get themselves a PO box in Lichtenstein plus a computer printer capable of very small print, and set up a fax directory business. That's the conclusion after speaking to a firm in Tsim Sha Tsui which has had a wearying two-year battle with World Communications Systems (WCS), which is just such an outfit. Like others in Hong Kong, the firm fell into the trap of being helpful when it received something that looked like a request to check its address. As we described last week, only after you send it back to WCS do they explain that the small print obliges you to pay US$986 a year to appear in one of their directories for five years. After a year of wrangling, the TST firm actually got a copy of a directory, which was rather badly produced. Counting the pages and assuming all the entrants are in the same position, this means WCS is chasing an amazing HK$100 million. The letters to the TST firm have now have a different letterhead, claiming to come from a debt collection agency in Geneva threatening legal action. This might be tricky given the provisions of our own Post Office Ordinance, whose section 32D deals with ''bills for unordered goods and services''. The usual advice from the authorities is please don't pay - WCS will use the money to send more mailings to more people, and how will you sleep at night knowing you've inflicted this on others? Ringleaders EXPECT some serious mobile phonies at today's land auction. The tycoons are not allowed to move about and there have been rumours that a red ''fasten seatbelts'' sign will flash over the auctioneer's head just before the action starts. Then the tycoon will be strapped in. But they are allowed to use their mobile phones, so they can each simply take in a dozen phones and keep the lines open for chats when necessary. Anyone nearby with a scanner and no scruples will be able to tune in for a lesson in market-rigging - sorry, that should read ''risk-sharing under uncertain market conditions''. Fleming row JARDINE Fleming was yesterday talking about its policy on rebated commissions. This is the remarkable procedure whereby the cash inside a fund ends up in the pockets of the fund managers. Given that JF has pocketed millions of dollars of other people's money through this process, no one will be surprised to hear that the company is upset about the Securities and Futures Commission's mild suggestion that it should be controlled. Unfortunately, it's not possible to state exactly how much the average person investing in, say, the JF Hong Kong Trust, has handed to the management, some of whom reaped a 36-month salary bonus at the end of last year, we understand. This is because JF's position is that it is in favour of full disclosure, but only if everyone else complies. It reminds us of the teenager's prayer: ''Lord make me virtuous, but not yet.'' The most audacious bit of JF's draft position paper on this topic is where it points out that the performance figures at the end of last year show that the fund managers who made big money out of rebated commissions also delivered the overall top performances. This seems like an allusion to JF's own funds, many of which went ballistic last year. But the company has chosen December 31 as the date for comparing performances. Wouldn't June 30 be more appropriate? Well, perhaps. But JF's fund performances since then have been rather less impressive, and updating the figures would shoot a big hole in its argument. Dope test HAVING an IQ of 164 - well into the genius category - isn't as useful as might be imagined. That's the conclusion of David Lin, who works in Central, and who received a long, long fax from a chap in Singapore with this IQ level, asking for a job. The Singaporean not only revealed his IQ, but personal strengths and weaknesses, goal in human management, approach in decision-making (''always prefer having a helicopter view of the whole matter before making a decision'') etc, over seven pages. The chap is interested in working as an operations manager for a company involved in electronics testing in China. David's baffled comment was: ''Why he has chosen to send it to us, a law firm, is not known.'' The Singaporean is a member of that big-brained club called MENSA, whose membership test obviously doesn't include a section on operating fax machines.