In the meantime, I feel I need to tell someone that I have been getting an enormous amount of junk e-mail recently. Since there is no-one here but me right now, however, I will rattle on about it here where no-one will ever see it. I never used to get much of this stuff at all because it seemed I had some good filters set-up. I was puzzled about this sudden new development, blaming my service provider etc. Very soon, however, whilst weighing up the respective benefits of five cent shares in some five cent company, a £200,000 loan and 'improved squirting' (I kid you not), I discovered the phenomena of inserting random text from novels, stories and other sources into the e-mail to confuse the filtering system. Far from being annoyed, I now look forward to seeing what bizarre and wonderful gems I have along with my investment recommendations, viagra sales-pitches and various other suggested medical solutions to normal human sexuality. It may also have worrying consequences for the future of literature and the publishing industry (hurray!).
Rosabel Greene was the first I noticed, who confided in me that she had 'a premonition that some day I'll throw the teapot at him.' At who, she didn't say.
Shoufty Wasalty has been following a Burroughsian line: 'Jazz Goodbyes Saddest Falling Beast Been Misled Vous Oublie Pour Maimes Encore Think Twice Sais'. Hasn't anyone told him/her that the cut-up method is sooo twentieth century. Mind you, perhaps William B was just way ahead of his time... (this is not an attempt to start a discussion).
Nina MacDonald was telling a worryingly scatalogical story: 'He turned as he sat, and pulled a stool from under the caravan for Yvette. Come, would you like to go in the caravan, where nobody hears? Yvette knew that the old woman was telling a cool, barefaced lie.' Strange that one of the protagonists seems to change gender half way through. Is this about a meeting between Mark Oaten in drag with an elderly Pre-op Transexual?
Susie Berreira has interesting theory about the human impact of monetary policy: 'On the contrary' she says (contrary to what, I am not sure) 'appearance, voice, and manner combined to give an impression of calmness and poise. This was chiefly due to foreign exchange difficulties.'
Loyd is a man after my own heart: 'My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.' he says. He should patent those eyes.
Needless to say, I have saved the best until last. This sheer poetry arrived from my good friend Madge as she promises me ‘an improved tool’. Great, I could do with a new electric screwdriver, I thought. It appears she was being metaphorical. ‘Just imagine’ she says ‘how wonderful your life would become… with such a huge gun down your pants you will be able to conquer any female fortress!’. Quite. And she should know. She adds - rather appositely I thought - in the now customary anti-spam confusing post-script, and with a weariness clearly born of experience: “They Brag Most That Can Do the Least”. And as if to remind customers to act responsibly with their new found hardware: “Although the Sun May Shine, Leave Not Thy Cloak at Home”. Extra large, please.
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2 comments:
I'm missing the mail from those people with extravagant-sounding names... Susannah P Willingness, Fortitude Circumstance and their cohort. Where have they gone?
I just love the junk mail that doesn't seem to be trying to sell you anything, it just contains, if you're lucky, one word. I had one the other day. The word was 'teach'.
Is someone trying to tell me something?
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