Like most people, I used to hate spam. I'd lie awake at night calculating how many hours of my life I'd lost trawling through the 'bulk folder' of my email account because I didn't dare 'select all' and 'delete', thinking, "You never know, there could be a legitimate email in there somewhere, lost, lonely, confused, surrounded by an unsavoury and motley swell of 'enlarging products', knock-off Rolex watches and Gucci shoes, $20 PhDs, not to mention attractive, young Russian au pairs desperate for my company."
Anyway, I used to hate spam. But, after a while, you begin to realise that some things cannot be fought against, some things are inevitable. Death, taxes, another series of Big Brother and, now, spam.
And so, I have learned to love spam.
The 'sender' names alone are reason enough to rejoice. So, here, for your amusement and because I'm at a bit of a loose end right now, are my top 12 spam 'sender' names.
- Filbert Ethelbert. The parents of this poor unfortunate clearly had a thing for Berts. Sesame Street fans, possibly.
- Bill Till. There's a time and place for rhymes. Filling out a birth certificate is not one of those times.
- Granny Just. Sounds like a geriatric vigilante. "Go ahead, punk, help me across the road."
- Eal Sph. In case you're wondering, the surname is pronounced, erm, 'sph', I suppose.
- Dwain Swane. See 2.
- Krogh. A good drinking buddy of Conan the Barbarian.
- Margery Justice. The prim and starchy, middle-aged assistant of Granny Just.
- Dusti Debra. Debra must spend an awful lot of time in libraries. Not moving. An awful lot of time.
- Bald Jackie. "Sorry, which one is - oh, yeah, there he is."
- Bendicity Sangbang. I just don't know where to begin with this one.
- Bald Septimus. "Sorry, which of these Roman centurions is - oh, yeah, there he is."
- Austin Lung. International Respiratory Organ of Mystery.
