Why English Might Just Save You $55 Million

Every so often, the internet gifts us a reminder that studying English isn’t just about dusty novels and poetry anthologies.  Exhibit A: the scam email that landed in my inbox.

I’ll admit, I was quite excited, it reminded me of The Henry Root Letters (1980) by William Donaldson, wonderful prank missives to companies and public figures, complete with their po-faced replies.  Very 1980s.  Very British.  Very bureaucratic.

Back to the scam.  It begins with the sort of faux-formal greeting you’d expect from a second-rate Austen villain:

“Though this might come to you as a surprise and the temptation to ignore it seriously could come into your mind…”

Reader, the temptation did indeed come into my mind.

The email, sent under the name of Elizabeth Chu, explained that her mother (a “real estate tycoon” recently “wrongfully sentenced to death for some political reasons”) had $55 million USD in need of a “reliable person.”  That person, apparently, was me.

Now, I like to think I’m reliable: I feed the dogs, water the plants and mark essays on time.  But laundering money for a melodramatic heiress?  Not so much.

And here’s the point: spotting this scam has less to do with street smarts and more to do with English.  A Year 10 student could dismantle it in seconds.

1. Language that ties itself in knots

“Consider it a divine wish and accept it with a deep sense of humility…”  Normal humans don’t talk like this, even ChatGPT doesn’t write like this.  Good writing communicates simply; bad writing, like bad scams, trips over itself in a bid to sound important.  Why use one word when a tangled sentence will do?  Check out Orwell’s rule number 2 (Politics and the English Language 1946).

2. Overblown narrative

Why $55 million?  Why is the mother doomed on “political grounds”? And why a storyline that collapses under its own clichés? English is what sharpens the eye for those cracks.

3. Red-flag register

The mix of faux-business terms (“investment plans”) with emotional manipulation (“I know in my heart you can be trusted”) is classic scam rhetoric.  English students learn to spot tone shifts, unreliable narrators, and appeals to pathos. Spotting them here could save you more than marks on a paper.

So there you have it: analysing language isn’t just about Macbeth’s soliloquies.  It’s about recognising when the world is trying to pull a fast one: whether that’s a politician massaging statistics; an advert promising eternal youth in a £9.99 face cream; or an Elizabeth Chu dangling $55 million from Hong Kong.

If you’ll excuse me, I need to draft my reply.  Dear Elizabeth… I was delighted to receive your most thoughtful and timely email.