Fighting the Fraudsters

Today I was reminded of the total stupidity of some of the vast, money-hungry population of the West African Republic of Nigeria. It's been a while since I've had to deal with that very distincitve accent telling you some far-flung, highly convuluted story about some relatives of relatives and why they need to travel abroad out of urgency and why nothing other than a UK passport will appease the strict Immigration Officers. "Well Sir, that's a very nice story, but I'm afraid the answer is still no".

This afternoon however I had my first 'bite' of the eBay in Nigeria 'apple'. One of the guys in my new office was selling his unlocked iPhone via the well known internet auction site. It was initially listed at just £80, but by the end of the auction, it had rocketed up to £255. Too good to be true? I'd say....

He promptly received emails from the so-called bidder regarding payment. Now, poor Mr A hadn't sold much on eBay before, and so forgot to stipulate delivery to the UK only. Our lucky bidder had been in contact and only wanted to ship the phone out to Nigeria of all places!! Instantly, my ears pricked up and I warned him that I was 99% sure it was some kind of banking scam. Next minute, he recieves an email purporting to be from PayPal saying that the winning bidder had deposited £360 into his account.

£360??? When the item only sold for £255. That's £105 more than the selling price. Surely shipment to Africa can't cost that much?? Can it? Something most certainly wasn't added up, so I insisted that I draft the correspondance to the eBay spoof team and to the PayPal spoof team. Within minutes it was confirmed that they were fraudsters. Fakes. Impostors. Whatever you want to call them...lucky escape for Mr A I'd say.

Soon enough, the emails were flying around the department "Hello. My name is Olatunde. My wife is most graciously recieving your item. She very good wife and we has 12 children. We need very much iPhone" and things to that effect - quite clearly much more comical than my lame attempt.

Speaking of comical outcomes of fraud. You simply must read this feature. It is a bit long winded, but it is very much worth it. If anything, just skip to page 4 and look at the photos!!

Whilst we're on the subject of fraud. I'm waiting to hear back from a counter-fraud company as to whether I passed their grueling 3-exam assessement. Fingers crossed hey!

Lucy is...

...disappointed at the lack of noodles in her chicken noodle soup!

Heinz are getting stingy. Rubbish.

What news is there to report? Not much. I've got 2 job interviews tomorrow. So finger's crossed I'll at least get a "we would like you to start on Monday" from at least one of them.

Currently listening to a bit of The Killers. Looked to see whether there were any tickets left for their 2009 arena tours. Bit stupid really, because I half expected them all to be sold out. Manchester have a few left, but who really wants to go there?! (Just offended most of Lancashire in that sweeping statement!)

Booked my train tickets up to Edinburgh for New Years Eve today. Good job too because they're selling fast! So many people descending upon that city not surprising really.

I really don't see what the appeal of being unemployed is. There's only so much Jeremy Kyle one can watch in a morning, although I do have to admit that it is strangely addictive. This morning's star guest was this 62 year old pensioner (who looked more like 92) who had over 8 boyfriends, recieved money for sex, had unprotected sex, had sex on a pool table in public and would get her wrinkly, saggy boobs out upon request. Infact, she "attempted to disrobe" infront of the man Kyle himself!

Honestly, I've never seen such a sight. I think any man in his right mind would be paying her to keep her clothes on! I can't even begin to describe how she looked. Overweight, glasses to rival Diedre Rasheed, topped off with a plum bob length wig would be a start. Really, where do they find these people??

On a slightly different note. Been listening to some 1992 classics lately! Loving it.

It's not over until the fat lady sings

...or in my case. It's not over until I've given the old bint a good slap. And by old bint I mean Mrs A. This woman is nothing more than a bully. All the 'young ones' in the office hate her because she swans around as if she owns the place making snide remarks about everyone. I am intent on telling the HR manager about her on my 'exit interview' tomorrow. Justice will come!

I finally finish the job from hell on Tuesday. And not a day too soon. Working for the police in the capacity which I have has most definately been the biggest mistake of my life. I've never been so close to being sacked in my whole working life - such a good girl usually. So, I've been left with no choice other than to jump ship before I get pushed overboard.

No idea what I'm going to do with myself. Well, the obvious place to start would be with getting a new job. But, what I meant was, I have no idea what I want TO DO with myself. I seem to think that I'd make a good (and slightly sexy) nurse in A&E, and have some fantasy about meeting the love of my life - either copping off with a rich Doctor, or falling for a sexy man in uniform who just so happens to stroll through the doors of whatever ward I would be working on. The whole 'caring for others in a compassionate role' comes a bit further down the list of priorities!! (I jest).

Meant to be going to Venice in 3 weeks. How on earth I'm going to be able to afford it is beyond me. If anyone out there is reading this and wishes to offer me a job, please don't hesitate to get in touch! I am a very hard worker ;-). Alternatively, any donations would be graciously recieved to the 'Lucy's tour of Venice-Fund'!

Top o' the mornin' to ya!

Dublin. What an amazing city. Amazingly expensive too. Nonetheless, I'd definately go back there to party again. Our trip started at 3am on a Sunday morning, to get to Stanstead Airport for an 8am flight to Dublin. Arrived there safe and sound to find the streets quite literally bulging with Irish Gaelic Football fans. I wasn't made aware until about a day before travelling (Thank you Mr O'Connor) that Sunday was going to be the Gaelic Football finals - eqivalent to the FA Cup Final in England. The green and yellow of Kerry mixed nicely with the red and white of Tyrone. Strange to see opposite teams getting along so well. I suppose you do get too used to hearing about the thugs associated with Premiership football teams.

On our first afternoon, we just had a bit of a wrecky and a wonder around Trinity College and went to see The Book of Kells. I wasn't aware that the library at Trinity College is an exact copy of the library at Trinity College, Cambridge! Factoid for the day there! Got back to the hotel and decided that we needed a power nap if we intended on partying the night away.

And so began the first night of randomness. We made our way into Temple Bar trying to find somewhere suitably cheap to eat. Which didn't happen, so we just decided that we'd forego starter and a pud and just have a main course and tap water. (Last of the big spenders 'eh!) After that it was off to the bars. Firstly The Temple Bar pub itself. A huge red pub split into different bars with a 2-man band squished into one corner playing traditional Irish songs. This place has an amazing atmosphere, but it's the kind of place which is so busy you literally cannot bring your drink up to your mouth to drink it. No wonder why it was so packed! Too many people buying drinks, and unable to drink 'em!!

It makes me laugh to hear men singing, or I should really say slurring along to the songs! It's just a very loud, completely incomprehendable noise in the vague tune of the song. So we wondered around to a few more bars (At an average of 15 euro a round - for 2!) until we happened to fall victim to 5 drunken Irish men who insisted we dance with them. One was partial to unbuttoning his shirt and flashing a nipple. Avert your eyes!! One was trying so so hard to chat my friend up , however considering we're both in excess of 5'11 with heels on...these guys were about 5'6 - 5'8. It just wasn't going to happen! But, we weren't going to pass up an offer for a drink or two. So it was that we were shown a few more bars and made to dance some more until the early hours.

Cue day two and our trip to the Guinness Factory. Outside we were asked by a couple of Yanks if we'd like them to take a photo of the two of us outside the gate. It was a nice gesture and one which was returned. Skip a few levels of how Guinness is made, how it was transported all over the world, and exhibition on the Artwork by John Gilroy and up to the bar with 360 degree views of Dublin city...and our free pint! I'd never tried Guinness before, so wasn't too sure of what to expect, but for a free drink it was palletable. My friend however took one lick of hers and decided she didn't like it. So who did we make a b-line for? That's right...the yanks we met outside the storehouse. We got talking, so much so we were invited for lunch. Turns out they were 'American Airline pilots'. My guess - they were having us on. I mean, I pilot who wears RayBan sunglasses, I'm not sure if that's just too much of a joke or not?!

Still, lunch was nice and my friend exchanged numbers with the one from Hawaii as they wanted to meet up again in the evening. Needless to say, we didn't. So we went off to Dublin Castle. Very boring, other than when we went underground to the ruins of the old medieval city wall. Apparently the name Dublin comes from the viking Duf-Lin (that's spelt pheontically. Do excuse my ignorance of the Viking alphabet, but it's not really up to scratch!) anyways, Duf-lin apparently means "Black Pool" - from the dark waters which surrounded the city. Take my word for it - after my recent experience in Blackpool, Dublin is like paradise!

So skip to night two out in Temple Bar and we have a lovely chinese/thai dinner and hit the Temple Bar Pub again. This time it's even more rammed than the night before, so we down our Tia Maira and OJ and Southern Comforts and lemonade and head out to another bar, which was a bit dead so try a third. Even though on the door it said "strictly 23 and over" we thought we'd try our luck and sneak in the back door. It worked...shortly after, a big group of lads came in and it wasn't long before one of them approached us as asked "is this bar stool free?"...it certainly was but that didn't stop him coming back and striking up conversation. Then another came over, shortly followed by a third, fourth, fifth! Within half an hour we had half of the Northern Irish Young Farmer's Convention descended upon us!! They were a right good laugh though. Between the lot of them they had a kitty of about 600 euro to spend on booze on that one night alone, so you can imagine - things were going to get pretty messy! I can only remember the names of a handful though, Martyn, James, Alistair, Tommo and Peter - guys, on the off chance that any of you are reading this, thanks for a great night of laughs and very dodgy dance moves!!

I think we stumbled back to our hotel at something like 3am and the next morning wearily made our way to the Airport. That is after my friend tried to purchase some Irish souvenirs from a big chain store, and was refused because she had come into possession of a fake 5 euro note. How embarassing! Love the place, can't wait to do it again next year.

What do you call a sheep that can leave the ground?

...a wooly jumper!!

Believe it or not, that took me a few minutes to twig. Some of the best jokes however are the most simple. My mother (very un-P.C) sent me this rather amusing text, to which my brother-in-law (similarly un-P.C) responded: "fucking hilarious"...

Muslim Prayer: "Our Father who art in Bradford, Abdul be thy name. Thy curry come, thy stingin' bum, on earth as it is in Rochdale. Give us this day our daily naan, forgive us our smell and help those that hold our smell against us. For thine is the prayer mat, the Nissan Almera for ever and ever. AHMED".

I can't believe how busy I have been lately. Hence the serious lack of any recent blog updates. The job has gone from bad to worse. I'm handing my notice in tomorrow and 'jumping ship' before I'm pushed off the plank! Everyone I've spoken to thinks I have a case for grievance, but I can't be bothered pursuing it. Sooner I'm out of that place the better.

On a lighter note, it is my best bud's 22nd Birthday tomorrow. And to celebrate...we're off to Dublin on Sunday for a couple of nights of...well I intend to drown my sorrows in the traditional Irish way - by drinking myself into a stuper! Guinness Factory tour is booked...and passport is ready and valid. This will be the first time I've flown commerically (sad, I know) but I can't say how much I'm looking forward to it. We're hoping to hit a couple of comedy clubs and cram as many bars into the two nights as possible.

I am slightly concerned that my liver will not be able to cope - considering I've not drunk extensively for...a long time! We shall see...

Bed calls. Got to face another day of hell in the office with the two faced bee-hatch tomorrow. Joy o' joys

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...

Some places in the world I think, need to be completely removed off the map. If only someone could invent a big rubber and simply erase certain townships off the face of the planet and make my dream come true. Take for example...Blackpool. What a total waste of space that place is. I have honestly, never seen anything like it. My friend decided to treat me to the delights that Lancashire has to offer. My friend by the way, is a a thoroughbred Yorkshireman - so the hatred for anything west of the Pennines runs deep. Back to the days of the War of the Roses!!

(Which, funnily enough I had to research because he didn't know who 'won'. The information is ambiguious though. Going on battles, there were 17. History lesson for you now... The House of York won 10, the House of Lancaster won 6, and one couldn't be called. So 10-6 in favour of those cheeky Yorkshire chappies!)

So, black to Blackpool. It has to be the biggest pit ever. The streets are lined with obese, greasy haired single mothers. Long, greasy lank haired slightly odd looking tram conductors, and chavs - galore! It really is a chavtastic haven, and for me a living nightmare. The golden mile is anything but the slightest bit golden. Mile's of derelict looking B&B's line the sea front. Boarded up windows, used needles - it is such a delight.

You can buy pink cowboy hats that proudly declare "Slappers on Tour". I've never seen anything like it. I seriously thought that I might catch an STI from just breating in the air. We did find a safe place to park the my mate's prized possession - the Golf 1.6 FSI and promptly made our way to the Sea Life centre. Passing hoards of Glaswegian chavvy kids, parents and grandparents. I did genuinely fear for my safety.

The cutest thing ever

Apologies in advance for this is going to be a really pointless and overly girly blog.

Went to the hairdressers today, for a mop-chop. And came out looking like an extra from Sex in the City. Loved it!! Caramel blonde bits in my hair, and it's been curled all over, to look so sweet in my short bob....this is just how I want it to look when I go to my friend's wedding in a couple of weeks! Did however go a bit mad with the products afterwards and ended up buying 'bed head' shampoo, conditioner and volumising stuff...which only added a mere £25 to the bill!!

Still, best hair cut to date! Had to cancel Badminton though, thought I'd look like a bit of a plank if I walked on to a badminton court with a perfect barnet! Plus I didn't really want to get it all horrible and sweaty...not a good look.

So instead, sat chatting about boys with my bestest bud, while watching 'How to Look Good Naked', followed by a few laughs of 'Mock the Week'.