It must be my name

I wonder what else might make me a soft target for stuff like this?

Dear f (name changed to protect the remnant shards of my identity),

Please drop me a mail if you want to transfer money from UK to India so that I can help you out in booking the transfer and also see to that you get a good exchange rate for your transfer form UK to India

As a Relationship Manager I will see to that the money reaches to your bank account safely

Waiting for you

Regards
Paul Stephen Jayraj
Relationship Manager

Waiting for me...seriously? No one's done that for me before. Awww.

Who are you again?

What are the odds...

...of you taking your car to the garage and being handed the keys to a brand-spanking-new, 2.0 Turbo Sport Saab, with 300 miles on the clock, as a replacement car?

...of you driving the said replacement car to an arboretum (posh word - I know!) with a chap wearing a Stetson in the backseat and encountering a flash thunderstorm on the way?

...of having the three-quid-a-head arboretum entry fee waived?

...of you seeing an ostentation (posher word - I know!) of peacocks sauntering casually across your path?

...of you coming back to the said swanky replacement car in the car park only to find two of the said peacocks on the roof of the car, and about six others around it?

...of one of the chaps atop the car, read my lips, f-l-y-i-n-g to the nearby tree to join the other tree-dwelling peacocks?

...of nothing (including throwing twigs, shouting and waving arms, trying to get mobile phones to play jangly ringtones, and trying to toot the horn or set off the car alarm) working to get the lone peacock off the top of the car?

...of the chap getting comfortable enough to take a dump on on the shiny blue top of the said swanky replacement car?

...that what it would finally take to get the determined and now relieved peacock off the car would be a petite lady park ranger shooing him away with a red A4 ring binder, no less?

You don't believe me, do you?

Except, may be, the part about the chap wearing the Stetson.

Now, off to deal with the peacock poop on the roof.