You're asked to go on a date with former president Bill "Philander" Clinton -- or with figure-skater-turned-boxer Tonya "Hitman" Harding. How much would you have to be paid for a close encounter?

You're not going, and that's your final answer.

A hundred bucks would do the trick.

Make out a check in the amount of $2 million, paid to the order of me, please.

More chilling than a date with Gary Condit ... two dates with Gary Condit! No, we'll only force you to go on one -- and what would you like in return? (Guys, pretend the date's with Gary's ''evil twin,'' Gladys.) And, yes, you have to go this time!

Police escort

A nice six-course dinner -- and the press alerted

A non-negotiable six-digit severance package

Remember the ''puffy shirt'' episode of Seinfeld? Sure you do. Jerry was forced to wear this really, well, puffy shirt on TV, because its designer was a ''low talker,'' and when she asked him to wear it, he didn't quite hear her, and hapless Jer was forced to go prime time looking ludicrously puffy. How much would we have to grease your palm to appear similarly stupid-looking on national TV?

It's your face that would have to be greased -- with so much makeup, no one would recognize you; and still you'd only go kicking and screaming.

A six-pack of your favorite brew and a bag o' burgers would fill your tummy and flush out feelings of funniness -- what the heck, you're a sport.

Nothing less than a bundle of Big Bens (the bills, not the clock).

Speaking of Seinfeld, hark back now to the famous ''stinky car'' episode, in which a parking attendant with world-class body odor leaves a lingering aroma in Jerry's car that permanently infects, and infests, all who enter henceforth. We've recreated the car here -- can we lure you in?

A scream is not an answer -- but we'll take it.

Depends on the make and model of the car, whether you can keep it, and what cash prizes (and fumigator) come with it.

Depends on whether the trunk comes stuffed with currency, and you can drive off with the whole kit and caboodle. There will be no downgrading this demand.

Can we coax you to bark like a dog in the town square, while we film?

No, you're chicken.

Sure, for the cash equivalent of 10 pounds of kibble.

Only for enough cash to be walking your own dog on the French Riviera -- where you will have the film banned -- for the rest of your life.

Speaking of chickens, howsabout doing The Funky Chicken nekkid in Macy's window at high noon?

We must have you confused with someone else.

A hundred bucks and enough free likker to get you in a wild 'n' crazy mood -- and why not?

A million bucks, minimum for this, and you'll also do The Hucklebuck.

As you pass by the No-Tell Motel at midnight, who should you walk smack-into, as he walks out? Your neighbor, Mr. Trimble, and a woman who -- egads -- is most certainly not Mrs. Trimble. Mr. T awkwardly attempts some pleasantries, then ''jokes'' you never saw him here, as he shakes your hand, pressing a $50 bill into your palm. You:

Tell him he dropped the bill, as you hand it back.

Pocket the $50 -- you may or may not have tattled to Mrs. T, but he's still getting off cheap, and you're up a few bucks: It's win-win.

Shoot him a you've-got-to-be-kidding look: Your silent complicity comes with a much higher price tag.

Carl the Conniver is in deep doo-doo, and desperately needs a favor: He wants you to temporarily swipe some papers off the boss's desk -- a low-risk piece of cake for you. How much cash incentive do you need to do Carl's bidding?

No amount is worth your professional reputation.

It's Carl's treat for surf 'n' turf for the rest of the week.

Nothing less than a year's severance pay -- which is how long it may take you to get another job, if you're caught and canned. The risk's exciting, but you need a big, fat cushion if you fall.

Maybe you like Barry Manilow (mphhhh!). But whether you're a Barry-lover or a Barry-basher is really irrelevant. What we want to know is how much we'd have to pony up for you to walk into the toughest, roughest biker bar in town and loudly demand the jukebox include Manilow tunes?

You'll pass. That's just rude to do in any type of public setting.

Enough to pay for a great set of dentures -- and free drinks for year -- at another bar, of course.

If you're gonna brawl, it's got to be for big bucks: The bidding for the Brouhaha in the Biker Bar starts at one mill.

We'd like you to see you walk around town all day with your significant other clad in an ''I'm with Stupid'' T-shirt, with the arrow pointing straight at you. What would you like?

To go on to the next question, please.

A hundred smackers sounds about right.

Nothing less than 10 grand -- not only is the T-shirt insulting, it may violate truth-in-advertising laws: You'll check with your lawyer first, but you may want to stipulate any possible legal bills you incur be covered, as well.

Granny, who's always made it cruelly clear you're her least favorite grandchild is nonetheless leaving you quite a chunk of change in her will, as you're her only grandchild. During a visit to your home, Granny suddenly looks woozy as she stands at the top of the stairs. You:

Rush to steady her, and lead her to safety.

Call out, ''Steady there, Granny.''

Figure her time may have come, Lord rest her soul.