A Certain Irregularity

I got a sinister email from Real network the other day. They were generously offering me the opportunity of buying some software from them. Though I had no interest in buying the software, I clicked on the link anyway. Why not? It's better than doing any actual work isn't it? Isn't it? And sometimes clicking on links in emails is work too - such as when I receive Ergent Massages from the various banks that I must have joined at some point. I always respond to those, and thank my lucky stars that Unsightliness T. Infield, a bank employee has worked through his obvious dyslexia to inform me of problems with my bank security,

Anyway - this software from no such useful application, but did contain some hidden messages, or 'massages' as 'Chaffinches I. Bolder' and his colleagues insist on calling them. The software - the Morpheus Photo Morpher - I was told, could 'morph a photo of my baby into me' - in case I was so narcissistic that I could only bear looking at a picture of my baby if I was safe in the knowledge that it would eventually turn into a picture of me. No, under these options was the offer to :
I'm sorry - what? Transform my partner into a cat! Not a photograph of my partner. Just 'my partner'. The Real Player organisation are witches, it turns out, hell bent on felinising spouses. It goes to go show that not everyone is as trustworthy as Shriven V. Hotheadedness and the other member of the Abbey Notional Building Society.