I watch as she tears open the letter, junk mail from the 419ers preying on the elderly and the desperadoes trying to make a fortune

Her face drops, she thought this would be her turn, it turns out she’s fourth in line to a 1.5 million pound fortune, if only she pays another £20.00 in postal orders, she’ll be bumped up to second in line, she looks at me expectantly, I shake my head

“Sorry, auntie, no more, you’re never going to win anything”  I open the next letter in a metre high pile, more promises and more requests for postal orders.


2 thoughts on “419

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