Fraudian Slip

Internet fraud: most of us have been there.

Only last year did I log into online banking to check my account, which now ressembled an apple with a particularly large bite missing: £4,900 had disappeared, referenced 'To Sammi'.

First of all I wondered what the hell had Sammi had done for me that demanded such bulky remuneration. And then it occurred to me that I didn't actually know anyone called Sammi. Then I swore like a sailor. With Tourette's.

The majority of people whom I informed of this fraud were shocked. Mainly due to the revelation that I had the wherewithall to have somehow saved at least £4,900 over the past six years. But also due to the ease with which the crime was perpetrated. It transpires that the culprits had waltzed into a bank branch in Guildford (a place I rarely frequent) and used a fake drivers licence as I.D. Considering as I don't even have a drivers licence, this is serious salt to the wound. The criminals know where to hit me: my bank balance and my embarassing inability to operate an automobile.

Given the fact that the robbing bastards...sorry, the perpetrators, actually physically visited a branch to carry out the transaction, this may not strictly qualify as internet fraud. However, since I had only joined the world of online banking about a month earlier, it's highly feasible that my account details were gleamed through the process of 'phishing'. Phishing is a technical term, whereby various phelons and phraudsters use information-scavenging emails to phind out more about your credit card details et cetera, and subsequently attempt to phuck your out of your life savings.

Of course there are many other stories, and many other victims. I once read of a English businessman who was undone by a familiar scam: a rich Nigerian family were trying to send money to England but needed some cash (in this case ten thousand pounds) to somehow facilitate the transfer, and they were somehow unable to fund this from their end. As reward, they promise whoever helps them a hefty return on their investment. So, the English businessman sends them the ten grand, and inevitably never hears from them again. It's a familiar tale. However, in this instance, the businessman was so aggrieved that he actually travelled to Nigeria to track down the guilty party. Before you can say 'out of your depth', the business man finds himelf trussed up in a warehouse in the back streets of Nigeria with a gasoline-doused car tyre around his neck (this is a method of torture in which the tyre is ultimately set alight...you can imagine the rest). Fortunately, the authorities managed to intervene before any major harm befell the businessman. However, it goes to show that although the scam emails may be infantile in their grammar and scope, and require a high degree of naivety (or greed) on behalf of the potential dupe to succeed, one thing's for sure: the perpetrators are seriously dangerous and organised individuals. With a LOT of car tyres to spare.

On a lighter note, I remember a time when a good friend bounded up to me in the pub, saying that the drinks for the rest of the night were on him. I asked him the reason behind his new-found benevolence, and he explained that he had just won twenty million euro on the Venezuelan Lottery, and the funny thing was that he didn't even remember buying a ticket! I remained skeptical, but he smugly produced an email from a "Professor Miguel Ignacio Sanchez" as proof. I didn't have the heart to point out that Professor Sanchez had spelt the word 'twenty' wrong in the email title.

But on a final note, I guess what I'm trying to say is, in response to an email I received just this morning from Mahmoud Yayale Ahmed (informing me that my "fund was approvved"): it didn't work when you tried to sell me that crateload of viagra Mahmoud, and it aint gonna work this time.

Be safe,

CB

Typo

I have since corrected a pretty glaring error in the Astrocodology blog:

Instead of 'witch doctor' I inadvertently wrote 'which doctor?'

While I am not particularly certain of the identity of the witch doctor I was talking about, I can sincerely assure you I was in no way confused as to which witch doctor was which.

Normal service will now resume..

Astrocodology

It's no secret that I'm occasionally a sceptical soul. Particularly so when it comes to horoscopes and star signs (though I still feel an inexplicable urge to read them from time to time).

Zodiac shmodiac, I just have a problem with anything that gives people false hope, be it faith healers, witch doctors, psychics or whatever. If anyone truly were psychic, wouldn't they be a billionaire by now? I know that if I had such 'powers' I would doubtlessly use them to predict fluctuations in the stock market or read Bill Gates' mind and produce a rival to Microsoft Windows. Doors, from Brendansoft, perhaps?

But I digress. Fed up with it all, I have therefore compiled my own horrorscope listing for this week... See? Anyone can do it.

 

Gemini

Jupiter is moving into opposition with Mars and Saturn, but with Venus coming out of Capricorn expect some major changes ahead.

Cancer

Venus is moving in with Uranus, Jupiter is having an affair with Saturn, and Mars is pissed off that nobody wants to go for a drink with him anymore.

Leo

Beware rusty thumb-tacks and potato waffles, especially on Tuesday.

Virgo

...rhymes with Birgo.

Libra

Your attitude to work lately is being noticed by the powers that be, and it won't be long until your efforts are recognised and, more importantly, rewarded.

On the flipside, your wife is sleeping with that bloke who occasionally comes to prune the hedges in the back garden. Sorry you had to find out this way.

Scorpio

Your GP tried ringing you earlier. Apparently the tests have come back, and that rash on your lower back is actually not as benign as previously diagnosed. Stop using the cream immediately and schedule an appointment at the surgery for sometime early this week.

Sagittarius

The financial landscape is turbulent at the moment. For maximum security and piece of mind, move your entire life savings to the following account immediately: Brendan O'Brendan, Brendanbank (London branch), account number: 21751414. Or else teeeerrrrrible things will happen.

Capricorn

Expect scattered showers of Jupiter in the early part of this week, with occasional spells of Saturn. The latter part of the week will be quite Venus with a front moving up from Uranus by the weekend. Average temperature of Mars degrees Celsius.

Aquarius
You think that 'certain somebody' at work hasn't noticed you yet...
Well you're right. They haven't. You're ugly.
Pisces
This week will involve multiple elements of chance and coincidence. It may be the week that you finally win millions on the Euro-lottery. Or it may be the week that you get crushed by a full-size Steinway grand piano. Who knows?
Aries
That biro you lost yesterday had actually slipped down between the middle two cushions on the sofa in the living room. Look harder next time.
Taurus
The colour mauve is particularly fortunate for you today. However, as you are severely colourblind, this information is pointless.

CB

Primark Fear

Okay: am not incredibly proud of this....but the other week, I actually returned something to Primark.

Why am I ashamed? Well the place is so cheap, it's beyond belief why anyone would go through the rigmarole of returning anything there, as opposed to simply just buying a replacement. But yet, I did it. It's the second lowest point in my life (the first was that time I drank a mug of three-day old coffee for a bet).

In my defence, it wasn't that I had regretted buying the product (a shirt), it was merely a case of the product being too small. Fair enough, I hear you say.

Primark is invariably a terrifying experience. You could be Sir David Attenborough, documenting all aspects of life on the Serengeti, and you would still not witness a fraction of the savagery that ensues at Primark.

I watched the last T-shirt fall out of one of the bargain bins, and four women immediately descended on it like hyenas on a maimed gazelle. Eventually, one of the women snatched the T-shirt up in her mouth, growled at the others, and they slowly backed off.

I would at this point like to point out that I have only recently become aware of Primark's controversial past and accusations of exploitative child labour (is there any other kind?), but as far as I can tell, the company has attempted to make amends for this. I mentioned this to my colleague Alison, who scoffed "Oh yeah? Well why are the clothes still so cheap then?" I replied, presumably because the clothing items change shape, change colour, or completely melt after about three washes. Fair point, she conceded.

However, for reasons of personal safety, I will nevertheless be rarely (if ever) revisiting the shop.

The day I was returning the shirt, I slowly made my way to the sales desk. I say slowly, because my progess was considerably impeded by an extremely large woman who was moving with all the speed of a particularly laconic glacier. Worst of all, she seemed to predict the exact route I was taking to the sales desk and blocked me every step of the way.

I arrived at the sales desk about half an hour after entering the shop, and explained the situation to a rather uninterested teenager sitting behind the counter.

'No bruv,' he advised. 'This is the Sales till, you need the Customer Services counter.'

'Feck. Where's that exactly?'

'Right bruv...well, you go around the corner, follow the curve around to the suit section, then go down past the underwear section. Take a left, then go across and take the second...no, the first, right. Then take a left at the escalators. Then go straight, down past the rest of menswear, take a left and then another right. Follow the path down towards the lifts then take a right. Customers Services counter is on the left.'

I replied that I was merely looking for the Customer Services, not directions to the Land of feckin Mordor. I then hurried off, hoping I'd make it there before the shop closed.

I eventually made it to my destination, only to find the MOTHER of all queues, moving ever so slowly. Somebody could bring John Lennon and George Harrison back to life for a Beatles reunion concert, and the queue for tickets would still be smaller than the queue I faced in Primark that day. There were actually people in the queue who were wearing bell-bottoms- not as a fashion statement, but presumably because bell-bottoms were in style when they started queueing back in 1976.

So what did I do that fateful day?

Well let's just I left the shop without queueing and now occasionaly wear an incredibly small, ill-fitting shirt. C'est la vie,

CB

PS Interesting fact about Primark: it does not sell dressing gowns. Presumably because no one ever actually buys dressing gowns- they just rob them from hotels.

Chinese Tattoos..

Well folks,

It's summertime, girls are wearing less clothing, and far be it from me not to notice.

One thing this means is that their tattoos are now visible. Speaking in complete generalisms here, the majority of girls seem to get tattoos of chinese symbols (usually on their smalls of their back or shoulderblades), meaning things like 'peace' and 'harmony' and so forth.

What I'm wondering is, does this mean girls in China have to get entire English words tattooed on their bodies to achieve the same effect?

Try getting the word 'Equilibrium' tattooed on your arsecheek. Now that's painful.