Preventing spam entering my computer mailbox is like dealing with cockroaches.
As fast as I install filters, some cyberland nerd cracks the code and dumps another load of claptrap into the system. I'm uncertain which is more wearisome - offers by business gurus selling commonsense wrapped-up in complex floss, or dubious medical practitioners seeking to enhance my male prowess with penile surgery.
Strangely, Russian brides and Nigerians wishing to store millions in my bank account have gone dormant.
I presume it's my age that suggests to South American clinics that I'm a candidate for libido-enhancing procedures.
One clinic's message left me curiously checking a long-forgotten file on Brazilian medical oddities.