sprachrestprodukte

Die Nigeria Connection ist ohne Zweifel drollig. Und sorgt seit mehr als 15 Jahren kontinuierlich für Erheiterung. Erst per Fax, jetzt per Mail. Die stets rührseligen Geschichten drehen sich um das Hinscheiden eines Mandaten und seinen diskreten Nachlaßverwalter, der eine bestimmte Summe Geld aus dem korrupten nigerianischen Bankendschungel nach draußen transferieren möchte. Dazu benötigt man die Hilfe eines Ausländers – und einiger tausend seiner Dollar für die fälligen Gebühren. Das macht aber nix, weil man als Teilhaber an der geretteten Summe einige Millionen in return versprochen bekommt…

Soweit, so putzig. Neu (zumindest mir) ist, daß man seine Geschichten mit alten Zeitungsartikeln zu belegen versucht. Wer sich soviel Mühe (zum besseren Verständnis zuerst lesen) gibt, verdient natürlich auch eine entsprechende Antwort. Ich bin mir nicht sicher, ob ich von Herrn Martins noch einmal etwas höre, aber wenn, könnte ich die Leserschaft in schöner Tradition des 419 Eaters daran teilhaben lassen.

Dear Mrs. Barrister (Esq.),

How are you today? I tried to call you but to no avail. I got somebody calling himself Idi Amin on the line. Is the phone number you provided still correct?
Of course I would like to do business with a man of honour like you are. Due to some extraordinarily successful stock market transactions I could pyramide my personal wealth to such a ridiculous height that I was able to hire Bill Gates for maintaining my Linux-driven machine park of home computers. Way to go, eh? But there is one problem (apart from the phone-thingy). You will agree with me that life sure is funny, so go figure the following:

My great-grandfather was a sergeant in the People’s Revolutionary Empirearmy of the British Kaiser (PeRvErt). Said Kaiser (Let’s just call him Ogbhomoso The Fifth, or “Bernie The Pigmolester”, as we informally did) was the wisest of the rulers known to man, a radiant sunshine of manorial…governance; wearing an impressive moustache (and womens clothings on Saturdays)…

Which has absolutely nothing to do with the story.

Except: Being “not so-very-gifted-in-certain-aspects-of-his-loinwear-area” he had to compensate his natural short-comes with a sport every good monarch was entertaining at that given time: Imperialism. So one day he arrived at the port of Lagos with his fleet of iron warships, heavy artillery, not-so-heavy-infantry and flying insurance salesmen. Alongside: My great-grandfather (Being christianed to the name of Rupert ‘Confidencetrickery’ Notwilliam). He spent a jolly good time in your wonderful country shooting parrots, elephants, coconuts or occassionally his own foot (muzzle-loader, you know). In his later life he would always say that “this time o’ me life, lil three-whiskey-barrel-high-lad o’ mine, was one o’ the most…one of the…most…most…” Which always left me in awe and searching for his medications.
Anyway, four weeks upon arrival it became pretty clear that their leaders had commited a fatal error by taking a wrong detour at the Strait of Gibraltar and therefor spent valuable time looking for the armies of the Germans, which were entertaining themselves a few miles to the south on the beaches of Namibia (‘Gelsenkirchen-Südwest’). Even today historybooks throughout the Kingdom still refer to this event as “The Lagos Tea Party or The most embarrising conflict we’ve ever gotten ourselves into”.
To wrap it up, after shooting himself my GGrand-Daddy’O spent some quality time in one of your fine hospitals and fell in love with one of the nurses. Ok, so he pretended to have fallen in love just to bed her. Take a walk on the wild side. Rock the Boat. Shake the Tree. Get his Banana peeled… I…I have to say sorry for his most outrageous behaviour.

But – speaking of trees – the seed was planted and nine months after he had parted from the Nigerian shores birth was given to a child. His name was:
Dikembe Notwilliam II.
‘Blow me down!’, you might think and knock on the right side of your nose…’can this be a coinscedence?’ This is were it gets interesting and where I need your complete attention and discretion: After I had learned of the horrible incident and the tragic death of the Williams family you are referring to in winter 2000 I immadiately (2003) started my own investigations and was able to successfully trace down the blood line of the Notwilliams TO THE Williams. Being Mr. D. Notwilliams II. the long lost grandfather of Mr. Henrybert Williams and leaving me one OF THE DIRECT HEIRS?! Please see attached document copy to confirm the outcome of my research.

Well, “Das haut doch echt die Miez vom Boom”, as an old German proverb says. I was utterly amazed. However when I tried to contact the embassy to claim my heritage I always had the impression they tried to get rid of me by speaking in a horrible spanish accent and telling me they would only deliver burritos until 11pm. But this absolutely makes sense now when I hear about the sum of money that is involved. Those felonial bastards! So I really have to thank you for breaking several of your customs laws and getting in touch with me regarding the transaction. There’s one thing I need to know: Can we still claim the money to said conditions even though I seem to be a blood-relative? It’s just…Where I come from I am not even allowed by law to hump my own sister and so I want to get this clear before we agree upon our next steps.

I will conclude you in my prayers and look forward to hear from you very soon. As a wise man once said “Vogliate lasciare questo posto nello stato in cui lovorreste trovare! Grazie!” I am sure you will agree. Please write back asap as I plan to go on an extended business trip.

Yours truly,
Alban (Dr.)

Der Beitrag wurde am Mittwoch, den 7. September 2005 um 20:01 Uhr veröffentlicht und wurde unter Briefe an Freunde abgelegt. Du kannst die Kommentare zu diesen Eintrag durch den RSS 2.0 Feed verfolgen. Du kannst einen Kommentar schreiben, oder einen Trackback auf deiner Seite einrichten.