Subscribe to my feed...

Tuesday, 29 July 2008

I am Being Cyber-stalked...

Yep, it's true folks. I can't tell you when it all started because I haven't scrolled back that far, but with 35 or so messages a day, every day, after 5 or 6 screens of inbox, all filled with messages from the same address, I think it's safe to say that this is what's happening - unless this is a *particularly* obtuse 'please-put-all-your-life-savings-into-my-Nigerian bank account'-type scenario, of course. I mean, what is it with some people? Just because a chap chooses to strip down to his 70 deniers, pose lying prone and provocatively cradling his private parts like some game bit of sexually ambivalent strumpet, then posting such images of himself on every web page between here and Timbuktu in the hope of guaranteeing himself global fame and instant recognition in every corner of the planet, I suppose that somehow makes him public property, does it?

The messages range from the the obscure:

"Remember the candelabra? Thought not. The one I bought you with fake Italian green shield stamps from that one armed vendor with the pale blue espadrilles in the Garden of Gethsamene...Well, I smashed it on the altar of my eternally ripening plumage - *that*'ll teach you!! *RHINOCEROS*!!!??" the downright sinister:

"I've bought you a new pair of lilac pyjamas - I hope they suit bunnikins..."

I'd like to say I'm upset or excited or even slightly fazed by all this unwarranted attention, but actually it just leaves me feeling slightly perplexed really. I mean, I know daytime telly's not for everyone, but really - surely Angela Rippon buying antiques in a Rimini flea market is slightly more appealing than sending unsolicited and unrequited love messages/TV reviews/recipes/unsuccessful lines of Lotto numbers/links to Transcendental Meditation websites etc? In fact, so detatched am I, that it even crossed my mind to attempt to turn them into a novel or some such - a sort of darker, even more mentally unstable Bridget Jones' Diary - with Sandra Bernhard as Bridge - although, having attempted some of the positions our imagined sex romp assumed (catalogued in Thursday 24th July's 9;47 a.m. missive), perhaps a Bridget Fonda exercise video would be more appropriate (don't try it wearing high heels folks - I laddered a perfectly good throw...)

Still, it's an ill wind that blows no good. This assualt on my inbox does at least seem to have silenced my Venezuelan ex- who some time ago had hacked into the same email account to send me the occasional riotously amusing hate email, posing as me - a bit confusing after you've had a few, I can tell you (Well, I normally send them to other people, not myself...) It seems even she has been outdone by this latest crazed 'admirer' and has - quite sensibly, I must say - decided that even if pissing me off was worth running the risk of being had up on charges of fraud and identity theft, it really doesn't justify the sheer horror of having to wade through page upon page of unsolicited and unrequited love messages/TV reviews/recipes/unsuccessful lines of Lotto numbers/links to Transcendental Meditation websites/Suduko cribs etc just to find a decent advert for a penis enlargement aid.

Then again, maybe I'm wrong and they've each found a kindred spirit? Who knows - perhaps they're already planning a get together, somewhere in the middle of the North Atlantic to compare notes?

I'll keep you posted...

L.U.V. on y'all,





No comments:

Post a Comment