Con artists and thieves I have known

Before The Macaw of Doom lands in just two weeks’ time, I wanted to share the other main inspiration behind the book, apart from the plight of parrots; good old-fashioned con artists.

I hope none of you have ever had the misfortune of being bamboozled but I’m sure everyone reading this post has come across a shady character at some point in their lives, either online or in the flesh. On the outside chance you haven’t, may I direct your gaze to any number of Conservative MPs (take your pick) or to President Bolsonaro, the dark overlord of the Amazon rainforest, which is currently being destroyed at record-breaking speed.

In The Macaw of Doom, Bernard’s long lost cousin turns up out of the blue despite the fact the boy is an orphan. However, he is so desperate to have family and a sense of belonging, he readily falls for Ytsan’s lies and it’s up to Bernard’s best friend, Larold, with the help of some amazing animals, to discover the truth.

The situation Bernard finds himself in was partly inspired by an unpleasant experience I once had in a small Brazilian town on the border with Bolivia. It was famed for drug trafficking and thievery but I still had the overconfidence of the young that nothing bad could possibly ever happen to me. I was staying in a bed and breakfast type place, essentially someone’s home. The other guest was a youngish Bolivian man, possibly a little older than me who was very keen to show me his vast collection of stolen passports from various countries including the USA, France and Germany. After several days of keeping my passport on me as a precaution against the said passport thief, I became complacent and left it behind in my bedroom on my last night. When I returned, shock horror, it had vanished. How the hell did he discover my ingenious hiding place under the pillow?

To this day, I still don’t know why the thief was showing me his ill-gotten gains; bravado perhaps, or maybe he was trying to warn me because this is the creepy bit. It reminds me of a dream I used to have when I was very young. There’s a monster in the house and I’d run to my parents’ bedroom only to discover they’re monsters too. After I found my passport missing from the room, the owners, a middle-aged Brazilian couple, told me not to go to the police. It was getting dark and late and I was becoming scared by their increasingly desperate assurances that the police were bad and would make trouble for me and that I mustn’t leave. Luckily, someone I’d met a few days before happened to call round to say goodbye and I gathered my things and left. We went straight to the police and the detective did a huge eyeroll; the couple were very well known to them as being involved in all sorts of skuld(r)uggery. What makes me shiver today is what happened to the lone guests who actually tried to leave to go to the police?

There are of course, different levels of cons and deception. As a young man, my dad used to sell Vitamin C tablets out of the back of the van as a smoking cure. Someone I briefly worked with used to make up bizarre stories about other people for whatever reason. One involved a colleague whose mother was apparently blind and the colleague was unable ever to go out because he dutifully looked after his mother in the evenings and at weekends. I found out several months later, it was all lies. His wallet was often left at home/stolen/lost when it came to buying drinks or food and once magically reappeared from a town 60 miles away after the bill was paid.

Earlier this year, I had a run in with a woman who said she was calling from Sky and was going to fix the snail-like broadband speed. It was only when she asked me to type in some dodgy website address, I realised she couldn’t care less about our rubbish broadband. When I had the audacity to suggest she may be a scammer, she called me a motherf*&%er and accused me of being able to see her camera, whatever that means.

Recently, I was intrigued by why someone had DMed me to offer me £100. When I asked why I’d been chosen, the person said it was random and bluntly asked, did I want the money or not? When I asked why again, I got the reply: “Just send me your f*%#ing bank and PayPal details.” How angry and charmless con artists become when challenged.

Where’s the Cryptoqueen, Dr Ruja Ignatova?

At the top of the charts of con artists are the likes of the Cryptoqueen, Dr Ruja Ignatova, who scammed billions from all around the world, playing on people’s greed to invest in a non-existent OneCoin, she boasted would be the ‘Bitcoin killer’. Then there’s the Queen of the Con, Mair Smith, the fake Irish heiress who made friends with her victims and then conned them out of millions. She even tried to collect over $16,000 via GoFundMe, telling people she had a sick child, although her child had died as a baby.

It’s easy to sit in judgement at those who have been scammed, thinking ‘I’d never fall for that!’ When the dodgy Bolivian was showing me the stolen passports, I remember thinking, ‘He’s telling me he’s stolen these passports, so surely he’s not going to be so bold to steal mine.’ No one wants to think they would fall for scam, whether it’s as harmless as buying cheap smoking cessation pills or someone spinning a yarn about a colleague to stealing your savings. But I try never to underestimate our gullibility, our belief that ‘I’m different’.

Ytsan, the long-lost cousin shares many of characteristics of these scammers and I hope readers enjoy the various interactions he has with poor Bernard and run ins with Larold, who finds it harder and harder to keep one step ahead of the con-youth, despite the help of the animals.

Thank you to everyone who’s pre-ordered a copy of The Macaw of Doom. Pre-orders really help raise awareness of a title among booksellers and lead to them increasing their initial orders.

I wish you a great rest of the week and pray scammers and bamboozlers never cross your path.