“Wham, Bam, Is that it?”

419 scammers are just no fun anymore.

I’d like to blame this on the global down-turn or something I could throw shoes at, but it could just be that some people aren’t quite inspired enough anymore.

From: “MISS J.SMITH” jsmith_12008@yahoo.co.jp
To: jsmith_12008@yahoo.co.jp
Sent: Mon 29/12/08 19:21
Subject: Fwd: Urgent Calling For Help,
Hope this mail  meets you well, please permit me to introduce my self to you, my name is miss jean smith, the only daughter of Late Mr/mrs Williams Smith. I am seeking for your assistance to help me transfer the sum of ( $7,000,000.00 ) Seven  Million  United State of  American Dollars that I inherited from my late father to your  bank account . I am willing to offer you 15% of the total fund as a mode of compensation after the transfer for your time and effort. All the necessary documents concerning this fund is intact.
please  get back to me asap through my private email address (jsm_900@yahoo.co.jp) for more details concerning this fund and I will equally send you my photos so that you will see and know whom I am.
Waiting for your cooperation. Yours Faithfully, Jean.

from: Saaleha Bamjee-Mayet
to: jsm_900@yahoo.co.jp
date: 29 December 2008 23:58
subject: Re: Urgent Calling For Help

Dearest Jean,

Darling, I’m just not feeling you, you know?
What you’ve offered me here is like a glass of Coke left out in the sun all day; a flat and sad fly trap.
Where’s the fizz darling?
Where’s that hook, that x-factor, that A-Ha! moment that will pounce on my naiveté and make popcorn of my good sense?
I’m getting none of that with your, “I am seeking for your assistance to help me transfer the sum of ( $7,000,000.00 ) Seven Million United State of  American Dollars that I inherited from my late father to your  bank account”.
Where’s the drama sweetheart?
No plane crash in the Alps? What of the bloody coup which left you the sole heir of amassed ill-gotten fortunes? Tell me you found God in your omelette and your blackened soul must now make amends!
There’s no arc here baby. Nothing I can look forward to or mull over.
You gotta make me believe. You gotta make me feel like I’m worth something; that you’ve contacted me because you were searching for someone benevolent, kind-hearted, godly, who loves orphans and believes that heathens must be stoned to death slowly.
What I’m really saying is that you’ve got to come to market with something a little less insipid.
How can this be an ‘urgent calling for help” when there’s really no sense of “now!” in it?
Reading this made me feel like I just got laid by Keanu Reeves’ equally wooden clone; a most unsatisfactory one minute I can never redeem.

Warmest regards,

Saaleha