New Nigerian Scam: Prove You Are Not Dead, Give Us your bank Details

A friend at bubblews.com pointed me at this. He said he read it while having breakfast and nearly choked through laughing.

DEAR BENEFICARY

We receive an email that you are dead and you ask one MR.KADEEJIA IRVIN MOORE to come and claim your funds been the fund to related to your lottery funds $2 Million United State Dollars that has been with us since weeks now and he has also agreed to pay for the delivery charges $270 Usd.

So I am writing you to know if you are DEAD , if you do not reply back before 72 hrs we will have no other alternative that to believe that are truly dead according to MR.KADEEJIA IRVIN MOORE .

And if you are still alive you can get back to me as fast as you can or you can call me on my phone take note that every thing has been paid for. It is just for the cost of transfer that this MR.KADEEJIA IRVIN MOORE has agreed to pay for if you refuse to get back to us am afraid we shall give the fund transfer to him and collect the money from him that means that he is right that you are dead and you ask him to come and claim the funds on your behalf.

WE HAVE WITH US A SCAN COPY of the SECRET PHOTO SHOT WE SNAPPED HIM and his FRIEND THE DAY HE CAME TO OUR OFFICE TO TABLE TO OUR OFFICE THAT YOU ARE DEAD,IF YOU NEED IT, WE SCAN IT FOR YOUR VERIFICATION PURPOSES.

Please take note that you have been given just 72hrs to get back to us so that we can know if you are alive, and fill the Information Below. Name: Fax , House Address: Phone Number, and arrange bank transfer of fee: We await your swift response in regard of this email we have received from MR.KADEEJIA IRVIN MOORE .Truly Yours.Mr Llyord Cross Phone: +234-806-577-5418

Please DO NOT call that number – editor

When Did You Last see Your Husband?

There was a Euro Millions Lottery draw on Friday 8th October, with a jackpot of £113 million.

As no winner was named speculation began to run rife, no doubt fuelled by the Screaming Redtops who appear to think mere good chance is enough to create celebrity, and who are we to argue?

And of course, in the true spirit of taking a chance over 1,000 people tried to claim that it was they who bought the winning ticket and then rather carelessly lost it.

The offices of Camelot must have resembled that scene from Spartacus:

“I am the winning ticket holder!”

“I am the winning ticket holder!”

“I am the winning ticket holder!”

and so on.

In particular a pensioner from Coventry claimed that she had bought the winning ticket and jotted the numbers down in a notebook as her husband always took the ticket off her and she never saw it again. In this instance she claims her husband has lost the ticket as she has turned the house upside down looking for it.

Now cynical old me thought,”Typical! A couple of not badly off, pensionable scallies, tell that story to the papers and wait for all those poor saps who can’t resist a hard luck story to start sending in the cheques. (I know, and I look so cuddly from the outside, don’t I?)

However following the revelation today that the ticket holder has handed in their ticket, the ticket has been verified and the money paid out I have had to revise my initial thoughts.

I think it would be pertinient to ask this good lady, “When did you last see your husband?”

Has he really gone to visit his Aunty Lil in Wolverhampton as she’s got a bit of a dicky chest or is he at this very moment sampling the delights of downtown Thailand, his £113 million safely tucked away in his Y fronts, well none of those young girls would think of looking there.

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Poverty and Common Sense

The National Mottery

The Government’s latest big idea to instil in us a sense of Britishness, reinforce the national identity and turn us all into unthinking automatons who wave flags and sing anthems to order is to give us a national motto. This would be emblazoned over the portal of every public building and printed on every official document. But what phrase would serve to remind us of our patriotic duty to fill in tax returns on time, uncomplainingly pay ten million pounds each to obtain an ID card that informs the authorities of our whereabouts at any moment and entitles us to have information gathering probes pushed up our arses if we are observed doing anything suspicious like breathing.
What could the national motto be? Mine’s a pint? Want salt and vinegar on ‘em? Do you have a loyalty card? It will certainly be nothing to do with politics.

Other nations fare little better, their mottoes might sound cool in foreign languages but are crap when translated. America used to have E Pluribus Unum which was dropped in the 1950s as it means “no mixed race buses.” The motto was replaced with “In God We Trust,” which suggests that as a nation they are gullible enough to buy bottles of stuff that cures all known ailments, removes red wine stains and gets stones out of horses hooves.
France goes for “Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite,” a motto so crap the are too embarrassed to complete it. The final three words, “ou la mort.” (or death) are an open invitation for any foreign tyrants to say “OK then, death,” and nuke France to oblivion.
Greece follows France in tempting fate and goes for Freedom or Death, while most popular around the world, mostly favoured by disunited nations is “Unity is strength.”

Here in Britain, traditionally riven by property price differentials, the North / South divide, class, religious differences and increasingly partisan political ideology, the various groups have managed to rub along for over a thousand years without a motto. Unless of course it is the challenge we usually issue to those who threaten us “Come and have a go if you think you’re good.”

There have been many suggestions posted on the Government’s message boards, but all fail to inspire.

We suggest the motto should be decided by lottery, a National Mottery in fact. Everybody has to write down their suggestion along the lines of those great British mottos “No milk today; ‘ere we go ‘ere we go ‘ere we go; did you remember to feed the cat? Newton was wrong, the earth sucks; Johnny Johnny Johnny Wil – kin – son; sixteen pints of lager and a poppadom; did you get that from Primark? McLaren out! You’re ‘avin a larf aincha? Up yours. Delors;” and so on. The British are not motto people so much as blotto people.

Boggart Blog’s suggestion? “Never Let The Bastards Grind You Down.”