Monday, 12 June 2017

Inboxed.


For the last few days, I’ve been trying to fathom out the subject of this spam email.



Mrs. Adams - who’s rather formal - tells me she has more faith in me than she has, or at the very least what she believes she has, in that that’s what she thinks. Does that make it any clearer? It doesn’t for me and I’m the one who said it, but maybe that’s because I have more less understanding than I think; I’m so confused I don’t know what my name is.

(...though it isn't Rose.)

Who is it that comes up with these things? I can only assume English isn’t their first language; or their second, their third their forth or their sixth. Maybe it’s their fifth but I wouldn’t count on it; not only does the subject make no sense, it closes with a rogue comma, which is just weird; it makes it all the more unresolved, in the same way a soap opera never will be; it’s not like the person who devised EastEnders had in mind how it'll finish when it does. Or will it ever? That’s a bit weird when you think about it.

Perhaps I should have opened the email instead of deleting it, but if I had I would have probably come to regret it. In that sense, I did better Mrs Rose Adams thought because she probably thought I wouldn’t be able to resist; not when she got the UK vernacular down so convincingly.

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