They're just not trying anymore, it's not even an interesting read :( - One of my more menial jobs at work is to go through the emails caught in the spam filter looking for anything legitimate that needs forwarding on. You can imagine some of the crap that gets stopped is at least funny, but I had one this morning that came in from a randomly generated email address and the message content was just a 'h'.

 

What's the fecking point, even for a spam email that's piss poor.

Yes, it feels slmost tossed off, as it were.

I long for the spam emails of old with tales of lanquid blonde russians all wanting to be your bride, with many pictures attached.

 

At least they were stimulating in some way(s). (YJ)

Sadly, none of my luscious paramours sent photographs to 'expedite the transaction'. Or it could be that I was blocking hosted images in emails.

 

Nevermind, I suspect that my wife would've taken a dim view of my taking a Russian bride anyway.

Would your would-be Russian bride take an even dimmer view of you already /having/ a wife?

 

You didn't think of poor Olga did you, when you exchanged those vows?

I think she was only after me because of my unfeasibly large phallus UK citizenship.

Besides, another reason that she may not have sent her photo is because if I'd known I was getting into a relationship with a brick outhouse i might have had second thoughts.

I've just done an google image search for 'Olga'.

 

The results are not unpleasant.

 

I fear you are casting aspersions on the appearance of all Olga's by comparing them to an outdoor commode.

Well, my Olga was an outdoor comode (at least in build, if not function)!

I'm hoping that's a metaphor of some kind. Otherwise it conjours up strange images in the mind.

 

Olga's a terrible name. The Russian equivalent of Miriam.

You haven't seen 'my' Olga.

 

And I think of the name as more equivalent to Edith, or perhaps Marge.

Perhaps you could post a picture?

 

To me Edith's are grey haired and bent old ladies capable of carrying an array of heavy shopping bags laden with whole milk and jam tarts.

 

Marge's are stay at home housewives who like nothing better than to tune into Loose Women over a cup o' tea and an iced finger.

 

Olga's in my stereotyped mind are built like shot-putters, have the body hair of Geoff Capes and all the delicacy of Kos' puns.

First you
But then you

And finally you
Bloody hypocrite! :@

Just because I'm stereotyping them all and think it's a horrible name doesn't mean that I shouldn't defend them, or recognise that there's some attractive people called Olga. :-Y

 

Besides, it could be worse, we could be talking about a Shaneece here.

Please, let me know if you receive my first email regarding to your family inheritance.

I await your prompt response.

 

Kind Regards,

 

Edward Devadason.

 

Legal Laws Firm

37C Waterloo Street,

Birmingham B2 5TJ

United Kingdom.

 

This time there's even a "real" website for the "solicitors"

http://legallawsfirm.com/index-2.html

although 37C Waterloo Street, Birmingham is hard to find on Google

37A is a salubrious building next to a very slick branch of Coutts, the private bank.

 

Bank holiday Monday, around 10:30, phone rings:

Me - Hello

Alex (for that is his name) - Hello, Mr. Angerlus, this is Alex from the Microsoft Service Centre...

Me - My name's not Angerlus. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name - who are you?

Alex - I'm Alex from the Microsoft Service Center. We've been receiving error messages from your computer because a piece of malicious software has been installed. If you don't fix it it will corrupt your hard drive.

Me - You what? You're with who?

Alex - Are you logged on to your computer at the moment?

Me - Alex, that isn't even remotely convincing, but thanks for trying (me hangs up).

{{{{ex-directory}}}}

We've had that too, parents just hung up and did the right thing of asking me about it.

It's quite retro really - a virus delivered by old-fashioned phone line.

You should have strung him a long a bit; said you were doing what he was asking (whilst obviously not actually doing it), and started inventing problems that you made him help you fix.

In the movies, you'd also be running a trace on his phone line whilst agents move in on his position, but I guess the best you could do in this crappy real life thing we're stuck with is to get him to open a link to a "screenshot of your problem" which logged his IP address, and then try and get his ISP to do something.

I didn't mention that I was reasonably sure from the outset that his name wasn't really Alex and that his address was roughly 4.5 thousand miles away in Mumbai or Bengaluru.

I was tempted to string him along - 'hang on there's somebody at the door' - and so on, but I didn't really want abuse being hurled at me on a nice relaxed bank holiday morning.