One of the familiar 'arguments' put forward by spammers trying to defend the indefensible is "It's just one message." (of course, it never is 'just one', but leave that aside for the moment). The usual response is to ask reasonably what would happen if every business in the world felt entitled to send 'just one message'. Of course that could never happen ... or could it?

The other day, I received a message in Spanish that offered taxi services:

... VENTO Trasportes ... Traslado de grupos a discotecas del sur: Asia, Punta Negra, etc Traslado a playas del sur ...

(VENTO Trasportes. Transfers to the southern discos: Asia, Punta Negra etc. Transfers to the southern beaches)

The spam includes contact phone numbers where you can reach VENTO Trasportes if you want to go ... where? I've no idea. It's a Spanish-speaking country, apparently, and it has discos and beaches. But there's nothing in the message to say what country it refers to, let alone what region. The phone numbers are given without area codes; and there are no place names.

The idiot who sent this — 'julio' — apparently assumed that whoever received the message would know what he was talking about. It apparently never entered his head that the message might be sent to someone in, say, the United States. Perhaps whoever sold his email list or spam services assured him that the list was 'targeted'. Or perhaps he didn't care. Or perhaps he's so provincial that he's incapable of imagining that there are people who don't know where 'Asia' and 'Punta Negra' are.

So here we have someone who owns two cars and has a sideline driving people to the beach, someone who is operating on the smallest possible local scale. Thanks to the miracle of email, he can advertise his services to the whole world. It's as if you could take the kind of small ads that people stick to lamp posts and push them through every letter box on the planet. Nomadic herdsmen in inner Mongolia can get announcements about lost kittens in Atlanta. People in Accra can receive special offers on pizza at the corner restaurant in a suburb of Recife.

Did I mention pizza? I get regular spam from Il Forno, a pizzeria in Lima (along with a half dozen other local restaurants in the Peruvian capital). Mago Juan Carlos Rodarte from Mexico City wants me to come to his magic shows and DJ Leo Cordoba is available to make my party go with a swing ... if I happen to live somewhere in Argentina, although even DJ Leo's website doesn't make it clear where he is actually located. The good news is that if Leo isn't available, I can always drop in at Nokturnel and dance the night away there. Nokturnel is in Las Vegas, a mere two thousand miles and change from where I live, as the spam flies. Practically on my doorstep.

Of course I'll need some wheels, but if I'm lucky that guy in Mexico City may still be selling his Saab. And while I'm down there, I might as well just keep driving another few thousand miles and pick up Belen, an adorable beagle puppy at the Beagle Club in Borja, Lima. It's a long drive, so I'll be sure to stop at the Academia de Belleza Vision 2000 in Mixco, Guatemala, to get myself a much-needed makeover on the way back.

But life can't be all fun and games. To be able to afford my beagle-toting jet-set lifestyle, I have to keep my finger on the pulse and keep my skills up to date. So I'll be sure to sign up for some business seminars in Cairo and Manchester. And my health is important to me, so I'll be careful to keep up my French health insurance payments.

Still think that email list you just bought is 'targeted'? If so, I've got good news for you, because the Brooklyn Bridge is up for sale and I'm letting it go at just $99.99, this week only. The only downside is that you'll need to pick it up: for logistical reasons, I'm unable to deliver it to your home in Phnom Penh or Salzburg.