The Sweet Mr Nelson Masawi...

I have received an e-mail from a very kind sounding Mr Nelson Masawi, who appears to be in all kinds of trouble in Zimbabwe. However, if I was to help him out by sending some money to grease the wheels that grind fine there, Mr. Masawi tells me that he will be in a position to reward me with millions of dollars in shared reward.

Unfortunately, my bank manager has conspired to prevent me from helping Mr Masawi in the way that he desires. Yes, I have a mortgage. And children. That this prevents me from helping Mr Masawi out in his hour of need hurts me. The proffered reward has little to do with it.

But then it hit me. You see I was born in Zimbabwe. In the Queen Elizabeth hospital, Salisbury. My father was a rather senior civil servant in the Rhodesian administration. In the lead up to UDI my father had a slight disagreement with the oppressive regime of the Smith government, and we were forced to flee. Unfortunately, in the chaos, we were not able to get our family fortune out of the country. My father was forced to bury it in the Matopos as we fled. All we have left is a battered map, with an X marks the spot.

Now Mr. Masawi is in Zimbabwe. And he must be an honest person, as he is willing to entrust me with his millions. So perhaps I could help him out. I could send him a copy of our old treasure map, and ask him to drive down to the Matopos to dig up our buried gold. And then he can repay me once he has managed to escape from Zimbabwe. What a marvellous solution!

7:54:23 PM    

The tech future?

If the future of the Internet is mobile devices, then does this graph from the BBC show tomorrow's leaders?

10:58:51 AM