Didn’t we already go through this, Chris?
I feel as though I’m repeating myself. It would take too long to go through the website to find the post I’m referring to but I specifically remember when you did this previously asking you to stop with this nonsense and yet when I was looking through my junk emails last week, what do you think I found?
There you were, nestled lovingly between some other guff of the highest order. Do I want my free Elvis Presley ’68 coin? No thanks. Do I want a loan of £5,000.00 from someone who couldn’t even get past the spam filter in my inbox? Definitely not. You’ve got something very important to tell me. Something very important is going to happen to…
To you, Siobhan. You can’t even get my name right. How long have we been friends? It’s not the longest name to remember. Three letters and you’re done unlike your full name which is a whopping eleven letters. Do you see me complaining every time I have to write out a card to you? That is, quite frankly, ridiculous. I am not a petty man though so I am willing to let these matters slide. Let me put all of my grief to one side and view with a fresh pair of eyes (and I do have a fresh pair of viewing eyes, they were needed after viewing so much this year so far, the most viewing I’ve done since 2020) the wonders that you have in store for me. It states that something very important is going to happen to me in this…
Autumn 2022. Are you joking? What do you think you’re playing at, sunshine? Are you telling me that your email sent in April 2023 about the magic of Autumn 2022 is supposed to be legit? I gave you the benefit of the doubt and now I’m not sure what kind of sick person you really are. On the surface it’s all wood smothering and horse bothering, a quaint village life with cups of tea and otter sharpening, but underneath that is the kind of repugnant filth that only the Daily Mail would care for.
You make me sick, sir.
7 comments on “Leave me be”
I will not be providing any sort of response to this until you apologise for marking my precious emails to you as spam. I spend ages on these and now I know why you never reply. Unbelievable.
What you need to understand is that there are better ways of telling me about my future (and then charging me for it).
Should I put it in a letter and then separately send you an invoice? That’s the sort of old fashioned palaver I’m trying to avoid with my network of spambots.
Letters would be good. I don’t get enough post as it is.
Your spambots don’t put the effort in, that’s your problem.
My spambots do a solid 9 to 5 and I won’t hear a word against them. Tireless, they are. And cheaper than sending anything by Royal Mail.
The day I settle for spambots is the day I airdry my trousers by attaching them to an airplane’s propeller.
Get your plane ready, in that case, because the day is here. Spambots are what you’re getting and settling is the thing to do.