This h'yar is Bill Robertson.
Or not. I've seed this photo used before under different names, so it could be Bill Robertson.
Bill Robertson just sent my character an inquiry to an email Bill Robertson received from my character. See, Bill Robertson first contacted my character in September 2013.
Bill Robertson doesn't remember that.
But my character did. And has continued to.
Here's what Bill Robertson sent my character in September 2013:
On Friday, September 13, 2013 3:00 AM, Bill Robertson <email@example.com> wrote:Good Day sir,
I am writing to seek your indulgence and alliance towards some consignments delivery that will be beneficial to both of us or any other person that is concerned. You may be aware of proliferation of consignments in our International Airport, and across the borders for the past few years. My men have since the past years intercepted some huge quantities, which are currently in the Government bond warehouse. Some rightful owners have since applied for claim and their consignments were delivered to their choice of destinations by this office. Some of the consignments are yet to be claim; since we do not have the rightful owners contact address or phone numbers to reach them on. The Government has mandated my office to make sure all consignments are delivered to their owners within the shortest possible time or risk forfeiture. You should be aware that when such consignments are being seized by the Government, the gold which is the contents of the consignments are diverted to arms purchase which is normally the root causes of war in Africa. I am therefore using this opportunity to solicit for your partnership to move the remaining consignments which are unclaimed to a destination where you have to receive them and later, I join you for final disbursement. Please I want you to keep this proposal very confidential to yourself because of my status in the Government if you are interested or not. However, if you are not interested, please also keep it very confidential and disregard it due to my status here with the Ghana Revenue Authority (GRA). Be informed that all arrangement regarding the delivery will be put in place as soon as I receive your nod. I wait to hear from you as soon as possible.
Bill Robertson doesn't remember having sent that to my character. Nor does Bill Robertson remember what my character dun widdit:
Good Day sir/ma'am/whatever applies,
I am writing to seek your indulgence and alliance towards some consignments delivery that will be beneficial to both of us or any other mammal, reptile, marsuipal, bipolarpod, or any other life form of dubious antecedence and capable of farting in zero gravity.
You may be aware of proliferation of consignments in our International Airport here in Ghana. Or, you may not. If you are, read next paragiraffes please. If you aren't, we gotz more sh*t stuffed in our warehouses than George Clooney's collected for Darfur, wherever the hell THAT is. My men have since the past years intercepted some huge quantities of things like surface-to-air anvils, waffle irons capable of waffling at depths up to 450 feet (which makes them ideal on the Andrea Doria), and all sorts of stuff that K-Tel, Ronco and other places have stockpiled and then sh*tcanned when they didn't sell well, like the Clapper Detonator and the Pocket WhackerOffer.
Some rightful owners have since applied for claim and their consignments were delivered to Chicago, where they're being looted as we speak. Some of the consignments are yet to be claim; we can't seem to find anyone who wants 1,000 kgs of kimshi-ed haggis. The Government has mandated my office to make sure all consignments are delivered to somebody -- ANYBODY -- before their annual delivery of inflatable sex toys arrives. This year, they're gonna be screwing inflatable ostriches.
Don't ask me...I'm just writing the email.
You should be aware that when you get emails like this, the Ghana Government is getting a rake off on anything made toward the end of arms purchase which is normally the root causes of prosthetics.
I am therefore using this opportunity to solicit for your unused inflatable sex toys so as to keep the government here happy. If you can spare me some inflatable emus, that'd be good as well.
Please I want you to keep this proposal very confidential to yourself because of if my mother found out what I was doing, she'd have my nuts nailed to an army ant trail.
However, if you are not interested, please also keep it very confidential and disregard it 'cuz my mother has connections in the soetero regime's Office Of Inflatable Sex Toys Civil Rights Division. Yeah, they threw that together with some stimulus money and some of the crank that soetero did in Chicago as a community disorganizer.
Be informed that all arrangement regarding the delivery will be put in place as soon as I receive your nod. I wait to hear from you as soon as possible.
My humble regards.
Bill A. Robertson
When my character did this, Bill Robertson responded thus:
My character responded thus:
F**k has an on-off switch? I didn't know that. You should get you a Clapper and try making that work. You'd be a hit over at the goat paddock.
My character assumes Bill Robertson didn't like that, but Bill Robertson didn't respond to confirm or deny it.
So as is the customary SOP of my various characters, when editing email scams, they also take care to include a CC copy to a number of previous scammers who've warmed my character's hearts with such replies. Including of course ol' Bill here.
Well recently, Bill was the recipient of an edit my character did of one of the Illumi-nutzoid emails I get. And poor ol' Bill, he dunno or don' remember, who my character is. So most recently my character gets this:
Who the hell are you?
Off the top of my character's thrice-concussed haid, I had him borrow something from a 60's Western movie:
Well I can tell you that I'm not Mississippi or Alan Badilian Treherne.
So then I looked up our earlier correspondence and copied him with it. And this is the thanks my character got for remembering Bill Robertson better than Bill Robertson remembered my character:
f**k off and never write me again if you value
If I value what, Plunger Lips?
That apparently goes unanswered, at least for now. Meantime, Bill Robertson can count on getting to read a copy of every email my characters send from their respective accounts. I don't want Bill Robertson to forget them so readily again.
My characters suggest he probably would have been wiser if he had.