Gullibility can make you a millionaire

LUCKY me, I've won $2 million! Ah, the generosity of the Irish. The Guinness Universal Charity informs me that despite the fact I don't drink their brew, they have given me over $2 million.

This makes the past few months spectacularly lucky for me. Just a week ago I won a million euro from the Netherlands Loterij; the Tutu family from Benin want to give me $15 million; while Mr Mugabe's son needs to move his money offshore and chose to funnel it through me.

Yes, the so-called Nigerian 419 scam grinds on, with millions if not billions of emails scattered around the world in the hope that somewhere, sometime, someone will bite. And they do.

The tales can be quite persuasive, like one purporting to be from Steve Irwin's widow, Terri: ". . . before the death of my husband, we had 11 million pounds sterling, which we did not disclose to anybody. I was informed that the bank is planning to use the money for nuclear weapons. This is because am suffering from cancer illness . . ."

Well who wouldn't sympathise , especially as Steve's wish was to use the money to build mosques, according to the email.

So how do they actually make money out of you? It starts with the letters, that all tell a persuasive story. Perhaps someone has died - a high-profile kleptocrat like General Sanni Abacha of Nigeria, say.

You can check on the Internet and sure enough, he was assassinated. Or maybe some rich colonial left a huge amount of money unclaimed.

Or the Nigerian government was overcharged for a major project and the builders want to get the cash out of the country fast.

The deal is always a bit shady so you believe you are breaking the law - or bending it - and this explains why it all has to be kept so secret. The letters are always urgent, and at first reassuring.

Then there's a hitch. The money can't be moved because someone has to be bribed; or you have to prove your solvency; or certain expenses have to be met. So you send the first few thousand. But there's another hitch. You have to sign things in person. So you fly to Lagos or Johannesburg or Madrid or London and meet with the "government official" or "barrister" or whatever he calls himself.

They need more money for another bribe. Something else has come up. By now you are in deep and another few thousand here or there doesn't matter much compared to the golden pot at the end of the rainbow.

Like a gambler on a losing streak, you hock the wife's jewellery for the bet that will win back all the losses.

If by now you get suspicious and ask too many questions, you find that your contact is not quite as charming as he seems. Here's part of a letter from one of the scam's victims, an elderly American who lost his savings and went to Nigeria to track the perpetrators down.

Unfortunately, he found them:

"In spite of my advanced age and failing health, I travelled to Nigeria and tracked down the 419er, personally, to his accommodations and business addresses in Ikeja-Lagos. I was assaulted by him, harmed physically and ransacked while I was returning from his residence."

Justice can be hard to get. Many victims are just too embarrassed to confess they were conned.

If you thought you are now safe because you're warned about Nigerians bearing gifts, the bad news is that like any profitable idea, it has spread. South Africa was the first outside franchise but now they can be found in California, Britain, Canada - maybe even Melbourne.

So just remember the cardinal rule of successful business management: if a deal looks too good to be true, it probably is.