Curse of 1000 years

Curses to the fraudsters of this world, who are making the internet a Bad Place, and a Difficult Place to do business.

The only response so far to my on-line for sale ad (for the Telecaster) has been from someone called Frank Warn, whose scam was not only preposterous but long winded, so that you were ready to poke your eyes out with hot pokers rather than read it through. As my friend Simon put it,

Even if that was genuine, you'd die of catalepsy by the time you read two-thirds of the way through the instructions for the transaction. I think he left out the step where you stand under the third tree on the right of the tradesman's entrance to Wollaton park, and facing the sun at 2pm on 31st March take six paces forward and dig a hole, in which you will find a casket of lead containing a hand written note with his Paypal number on it...

It was some crap about, oh I want to pay for it, but I haven't got any money, but someone owes me money. Could you cash their cheque and then send me the change, zzzzzzz. Frank, I can't be sure, but I think you're a shitbird.

The consumate con artist, Frank tried to get me to believe he was a genuine punter by being a bit of an arse in his 1st couple of emails, first asking what my rock-bottom price was, and then saying, why didn't you advertise at that price if you wanted to sell? Well, Frank, because I wanted to sell at the higher price. I expect he thought he was reeling me in. But then he blows it by agreeing to pay me a cool one thousand more than I asked for the guitar, because the pound sign in my email turned into a question mark, which he interpreted as a 1.

I curse you Frank, and I curse your family, your ancestors, your dog, and your dog's offspring, for the next thousand years.