Hello you, lovely reader on this fine, slightly chilly, but oh-so-sunny-where-I-am-sitting, spring day.
I know it’s April Fool’s Day today. But this isn’t an April Fool’s if only it was! It tickled me so much on so many levels I just had to share it with you.
A letter arrived in the post yesterday. Along with my latest issue of Psychologies magazine with the divine Juliette Binoche on the front.
It was personally addressed to me with a second class stamp with VERY IMPORTANT! And ‘Private and Confidential for addressee’ only stamped on the front. I knew it was a crock of shit when I could see no sender address on the back. I was laughing on the inside before I opened it. Now it was just a question of what kind of scam I’d been sent through the mail.
It was better than I thought when I opened it.
Though kind of scary too.
There was a letter ( see below for Exhibit A) and a Magic Voucher and an envelope asking for an 68p stamp on it. Yes, you read that right a magic voucher, though from the faux, snooty font it looked more like a Magir voucher. Maybe Magir voucher’s are extra blessed and kissed by the lips of the High Wizard of Scamland himself? Who knows? But I love a magic voucher, me.
Exhibit A kind of scared the beejeezus out of me. There was a photo of a man who looked like a mad, mad version of Rutger Hauer if that’s even possible. Look at that leathery skin and those ‘it’s too-late-mama-the zombies-have-got-me!’ luminous, demented eyes.
Apparently, this is Joseph and he wants to help me. Yes, this man who doesn’t know me from Adam and claims to be a fortune-teller has the ability to see that I’m going to win a large sum of money in the lottery, all thanks to the total eclipse of the Moon that took place on December 10 last year.
Amusingly, the improbable Joseph was right, there was indeed a total eclipse of the Moon on this date last year, so maybe I’m doing him a great dishonour by laughing at him. And the fact that the letter purports to be from New Delhi even though it’s got a UK pre-paid stamp on it and my address ended at my postcode, doesn’t mean it’s not genuine right? Maybe, everyone in the whole world knows that only a UB postcode can get a letter to the armpit of the universe these days? And there is no mention of which lottery I could be winning. Just ‘the lottery’. Still, it’s not good to be cynical. Even though I never enter lotteries. Full stop. Except when my friend Steve’s dad buys me a ticket, but I don’t think he’s done that since 1998?
Anyway, so the dude, wants to help me win a sum of money and unlike his friends in Nigeria he doesn’t need an administrative fee of £10,000 to unlock the £34 million that he wants to share with me, because he can’t quite get to it, he’s just an utter sweetheart really. That in itself, Mr von Wotsit, is actually quite refreshing.
So, if he doesn’t want to tap my bank balance and is simply an altruistic soul out there in India, watching the world through mad, staring eyes, that suddenly bought forth the vision of my sheer loveliness into his dominion and helpfully also gave him my name and address to boot – what does he want?
For this we need to proceed to Exhibit B.
Note: the white inking thingie was my handiwork, Joseph will understand I am sure.
So here we have a Magic Voucher – and he wants me to fill it in and return it to him. Why? Because the evil Rutger Hauer lookalike needs it to help me win the lottery of course!
How knowing my dad’s first name and my exact date of birth is going to help him do that, God knows.
But if I was stupid enough to send it to him it might help him access my bank account as a security question or password. And I’m not stupid. Thank God. And if you google this ‘man’ he’s a leech who preys on the vulnerable. And things get ugly once you respond to this bollocks. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work that one out. But some people want to believe. They want to believe good things are possible.
And sadly, a lot of people out there are very trusting and fall prey to arseholes like this. If you think no-one can be that foolish than you’d be wrong. And it’s normally trusting people or the elderly who believe a sob story, or are just desperate for their luck to change. I have a friend who has a very elderly aunt who has been conned out of thousands and thousands of pounds by a scam. They were her life savings and she was in complete denial that the people who’d written to her were anything less than genuine. It’s kind of sad that instead of employing their creativity and penchant for ‘mysticism’ for this evil, vindictive nonsense, these people don’t take up writing fiction instead. They’d at least earn an honest buck or two with their inventiveness.
Oh and I didn’t show you the envelope did I?
You’re going to love the envelope.
Classy eh? Strangely, I decided not to respond to Joseph van Wotsit’s kind offer to secure me my millions. And not to scare the crap out of Royal Mail’s illustrious staff when they handle the envelope and spot Joseph’s death-ray glare of evil peering up at them. I’m willing to take the risk to earn my millions the old-fashioned way, through sheer hard work.
And the real kick after all of that, where does Joseph who sent me this missive all the way from hot, exotic, bustling, land of the masala dosa (yummy) India want me to post my Magic Voucher replete with my dad’s name and my birthdate back to? Delhi? Agra? Kerala? Goa? To his villa in Mumbai?
Why Germany of course!
What a pile of poo. I’ve deliberately not referenced the tosser’s full name once in any of the text or tags through out this post. What a buffoon!
And, oi Joseph, Rutger Hauer wants his face back!