They call him Mr Lucky

c: | f: /

It’s time to put on make-up. It’s time to light the lights. It’s time to win by email on the spammer’s show tonight.

According to my inbox today I’ve won the Mexican lottery and stand to win 20 million pesos (probably about 60 pence), the US jackpot of $200m, and a businessman on his deathbed from Mozambique wants to share his considerable diamond fortune with me (I’m his life long friend apparently, even though he can’t recall my name, nor can he spell).

Clearly — after I’ve sent off my name, address, date of birth, email, credit card number, CV2 code, bank account details, head circumference, national insurance number, dental records, and cat’s inside leg measurement — I won’t know what to do with all my newfound wealth. So raise your digital hand if you would like some of it.

Oh, wait, the emails said I shouldn’t tell anyone or I’d forfeit the windfall.

As you were.

Spout 'em if you got 'em

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