Andrea Peyser

Andrea Peyser

US News

We swallowed Chen Guangbiao’s act hook, line and stinker

Who’s the real bum here?

The homeless men and women filed quietly and respectfully into the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park, the snootiest joint many of them had ever experienced.

“It’s once in a lifetime for me!’’ said Sean Jordan, 49, napkin in lap.

A recovering alcoholic, he’s lived on the streets for five years, and now resides in the New York City Rescue Mission. Next to him sat Kelvin Bell, 51, who’s graduated to the mission after living on trains and benches.

“I finally got to rest and lie down,’’ said Bell.

So what is Chen Guangbiao’s excuse?

The Chinese recycling baron sailed into the Boathouse like he owned the place and everyone in it — and demanded a cup of hot water. Some flunky rushed the liquid to Chen, and nearly spilled the scalding beverage all over my face.

“He’s not feeling well,’’ someone claimed.

Chen, 46, came to this fine restaurant for a bit of dollar-bill diplomacy. He invited to a fancy lunch some 200 homeless people — down-and-out folks whom he would despise, if he ever thought of them.

These folks, whom you might think of as smelly, insane or addicted, were poised and grateful to a fault.

And their host used them like props to pump himself up.

Chen organized this lunch to prove what a great, generous good guy he was, getting down with beings he considers to be his inferiors. Here’s a man who actually has printed on his business cards “Most influential Person of China.”

In a few short hours, Chen exploited his down-and-out guests to an embarrassing level. He posed for pictures, grinning like a buffoon. He talked endlessly about how he was a great philanthropist, environmentalist, and all-around good guy.

His guests just watched, displaying good manners, good grooming and good appetites. And yes, they used the correct forks as each course was served.

Before things got under way, the 250 invited homeless folks from the New York City Rescue Mission were reduced in number to 200 — to make way for the hordes of media he attracted and a gaggle of volunteers wearing People’s Republic of China army uniforms.

They followed Chen around as if he might reveal the number of his Swiss bank account.

But things really fell apart when Chen did an about-face on his promise to give each guest $300 — and instead caved to pressure from the New York City Rescue Mission to donate to the facility instead.

Soon, the bum Chen hurtled out of the place, leaving feelings bruised and people used.

The homeless man, Jordan, held out hope that Chen would make good on his $300 promise when folks returned to the mission.

Fat chance.