It’s not every generation that witnesses the birth of a new form of humour. We are priviliged to be one of them. I speak of the Nigerian 419 Advance Fee Reverse Scam, or Scambaiting.
You may have heard of the Advance Fee confidence game or con. ‘419’ is the section of the Nigerian penal code that prohibits this activity. Right. I’m sure there is a whole department in Lagos whose sole concern is the welfare and protection of stupid, greedy Westerners.
It works like this: you are approached by the mysterious widow of a fabulously wealthy millionaire or corrupt government official. In the 1980’s fax was the preferred medium of communication, but now it’s email. The widow needs your help in transfering the estate of the deceased out of the country. It involves large amounts of money, such as $35,000,000 (THIRTY FIVE MILLION U.S. DOLLARS) (they are fond of capitals). For a 20% cut, all you have to do is make your bank account available to receive the dough. Just fill out a few forms, nothing to it. The catch is that half way through the transaction, some unexpected expenses arise: government permits, bribes, solicitors’ fees, etc. And you are asked to ante up the money. But what’s $5,000 when you stand to gain $7,000,000?
Sounds crazy? Who’d be fool enough to fall for this nonsense? According to the FBI, Europeans and Americans are relieved of billions of dollars every year by Nigerian and other West African scam artists.
A few years ago, some people thought it might be amusing to reply to these letters, disguised as a Western icon or celebrity that the scammers would not be familiar with. Hilarity ensues. Plus, you get to divert the time and energy of a would-be scammer, saving innocent little old ladies from losing their life’s savings.
There are many Web sites dedicated to this hobby. My favourite is Scam-o-Rama (www.scamorama.com), a collection of independent threads from amateur humourists. A typical exchange consists of several weeks worth of back-and-forth between a Westerner, and a scammer. Imagine Colonel Sanders inquiring about the details of a fraud, all the while ranting about a “secret recipe”. Elvis Presley, Batman, Nostradamus, carrying on a straight-faced and sincere exchange with Africans totally ignorant of the context, and also feigning sincerity. The scammers’ broken idiosyncratic English magnifies the absurdity.
One of my favourites is “Death by Umlaut” (Spring 2002). This piece is utter genius. I still get apoplectic reading it. The scambaiter poses as Jörö Brummbär, a breeder of “schlümpfes” (smurfs). He says gems like “my castle do not have phone lines as they are unreliable and it is dangerous to fix them during the winters because of the wild schlümpfes roaming the woods”.
Jörö switches to the pseudonym Otan Poskeen, and arranges to have the scammer’s representative in Amsterdam meet him at the airport as he arrives from Helsinki. The scammer is to identify himself with a sign showing the name “Otan Poskeen”. Imagine a planeload of Finnish-speaking passengers, streaming past a strange man with a sign that says “I will blow you” in Finnish. Priceless.
www.scamorama.com/insults.html contains a collection of threats and insults (“I will shoot you through the nose.” “I will like to feed my own crocodile with your mum.”). “www.scamorama.com/garnet.html” (Aug 2003) has pictures of trunkfulls of money. “www.scamorama.com/louise3.html” (Oct 2002) is a wonderful exchange from Louise Lutefisk, demanding that her scammer recite the oath of Imhotep, and greet her at the airport dressed in the long, flowing crimson robes of Egyptian priesthood. She evens gets him to call a Cairo tourist agency, asking for Imhotep. Imhotep was architect of the pyramids for Pharaohs ca. 2648 BC.
The Beldar Conehead exchange (“We’re from France”, Sep. 2005) is also a great read.
I had the pleasure of participating (“MUGUN.EXE”, Sep. 2003) as Jed Clampett, the Hillbilly naïf. I recommend you have a look. It’s pretty funny stuff. I obtained the domain www.firstbankbeverlyhills.com. I tell my scammer that banker Drysdale got spittles of drool around his mouth at the mention of millions. I profer my library card as identification to secure the millions, and the scammer accepts it. My wife photoshopped the “Possum Run Library” card with a photo of Buddy Ebsen. I gave the scammer the real number and name of a VP at the First Bank of Beverly Hills, and told him to call him with the password “I want the enema”, asking for the secret president Drysdale.
Finally, I wrote a program called “Money Upload by Global Universal Network”, sent him a copy, and invited him to enter his bank account number and dollar amount, to transfer money. When he ran the program at the Internet café, the program would secretely send a file to my Web site, containing the account number, address and amount.
I did in fact receive a couple of files, showing a bank in Hong Kong. I told him he had transfered the money to the wrong account by inverting some digits. I finally pulled the plug by pointing out the initials that form the name of the program – MUGUN means “imbecile” in the Nigerian Yoruba language.
Past columns, and more, are available at www.kyber.biz/rants.