I don’t really get a lot of email. Most of what I do get is neatly filtered away by the Gmail server to the spam folder. And I imagine good folks at Google are pretty good at blocking spam from entering my inbox. That’s why, when I received an email today from a Malaysian lawyer saying I had been chosen by lucky draw to inherit about $6 million of his late client‘s money, I knew it had to be genuine. Hey, if you can’t trust an unknown person offering you millions in exchange for your bank account number, well then who can you trust?

Of course, the offer carried a stipulation that the cash be used for philanthropic purposes. Perfect, because I just so happen to represent a worthy cause in mind that could use some money. So, I should contact this fellow and claim the money, right? Glad you agree with me. I might set aside a cheeseburger for you.

So, I’m drafting a letter, and I’d like your opinion first. Does this sound okay? I want to make a good first impression, you know.

Dear Mr. Fancy Pants Malaysian Lawyer,

First of all, thank you for your email. I’ve been hearing about the recent spate of Malaysian millionaire philanthropists that have been kicking the bucket and willing their riches to randomly selected recipients, and I’ve been wondering when it would be my turn. And its about time, I say. What took you so long? But, that’s not important. What is is that you have finally found the right person.

Before we start, let me congratulate you on your move from Nigeria to Malaysia. I imagine the move must have been necessary. I mean, just how many more diplomats and government officials seeking to move cash out of the country are there, right? I hope you find new the business just as good, and hope you have the best of luck helping dying millionaires finding people willing to spend their money, as I am sure their families do not in the least object.

So, where were we? Yes, the money. Well, here’s the deal. I see from your email that your client wanted the money to go towards a charitable cause. Let me congratulate you once again on having selected the right person because I just so happen to know a cause that could use the money: the JHBF (Jaskon’s Hungry Belly Fund), which works for the welfare of one very needy person (hereinafter referred to as ‘me’ or ‘I’). Luckily for both of us, your random selection process found me and not someone who would undoubtedly have used the money for his or her own selfish needs.

So that’s settled. Now, down to business. I can not give you my bank account number. I can’t give you the number because I do not have one. My previous bank account was frozen by the government on account of suspicious transactions between myself and certain manufacturers of cherry pastries and axle grease. Its a long story, one that I can hopefully regale you with at length when I have got my millions and we are sipping champagne in the spa of a 5 star hotel in Kuala Lumpur, being waited upon hand and foot by well toned, scantily clad Malaysian nymphets. You will join me in the spa, no? Just because I think we could, you know, hang out together. Really, no homo.

But, matters of R&R aside, I am prepared to catch the next flight to Kuala Lum, just as soon as you can advance me the money for a return ticket. Or better yet, I will be much obliged if you could provide me a boat for the trip, as I have reason to believe that customs agents and the Coast Guard are still on the lookout for me. A silly misunderstanding it was (who would have known about the trade tariffs on ball bearings in the Caribbean nations, right?), but better to be safe than sorry till I can get my hands on enough cash to bribe them for further trips.

So, once I get to Malaysia, I hope we can arrange for the money to be handed over to me in cash (preferably unmarked $100 bills). If not, a draft in the name of ‘M/s ABC Ball Bearings and Pastries’ will do just fine. After which, it would be greatly appreciated if a fake passport could be made available to me, with a visa stamped for Disneyland. I shall give you the freedom of picking the name that appears on the passport. Just don’t make it anything too obvious like McLovin.

Then, we shall move on to the next phase of the plan. We shall build a jungle fortress and recruit locals and train them in weapons and martial arts. When they are ready, we shall inva- wait, my eleven year old cousin just told me that emails offering random people large amounts of money in exchange for bank account numbers and personal data are really fraud schemes. I can’t believe it. Mr. Lawyer, I really thought you were genuinely trying to help me. (Sniff) I thought we could be friends. Is this how you would treat a friend?

I am very disappointed in you, sir. You bring a great shame on the nation of Malaysia. Why, I bet even the Nigerian gentleman who emailed me last week is a scamster, then (Note to self: Smack self in the head for providing credit card information). Is there no honour left in the world? I must therefore inform you that, as of this moment, this deal is off. I do not want your fraudulent money and friendship. My charity will carry on without you, on the sale of deep fried cupcakes alone.

Though I’ll still hang out with you in the spa, if you’re interested.

Yours indignantly,
Jaskon

I really wonder if, somewhere in Lagos or Kuala Lumpur, some wealthy diplomat’s lawyer is sitting on a few million dollars, genuinely waiting for someone to reply to his email. Or this, in Russia:

Yeah, I wonder why

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