Among the numerous press releases and studies I receive every day, one particularly caught my attention in recent times.
A study by SocialCatfish.com showed that €104m (roughly £49.63m at the time of writing) was lost to romance scams in the United Kingdom over the last 13 months. This is up from €68m (£58.61m) in 2020.
I did not see any reason to use it directly, as it does not, I suppose, have any relevance for financial advisers.
Having said that, I am not a financial adviser myself. I have never sat in front of a client, which means I have no idea of what they are capable of.
But I tend to believe that an advised client is less likely to fall for that kind of trick.
I still remember an adviser telling me how one of his clients was once contacted by introducers of London Capital & Finance. The client had the good idea of forwarding the introducers’ email to his adviser, who warned the client about the dangers around this investment proposition.
Having an adviser is not bullet-proof, but it certainly limits the odds of doing anything utterly stupid with your money.
The reason why I found those figures interesting is because romance scams is a topic I am somewhat familiar with.
No, I have not scammed anyone and I have not been scammed either, if that is what you are now wondering. I am notoriously stingy, which I guess makes me fully impermeable to romance scams.
Last Autumn, I actually gave dating apps a try without much enthusiasm. After a few dates, which turned out to be a frightful waste of my valuable time, I chose to put an end to the experience.
But there was one last thing I wanted to do before deleting the app from my phone. I noticed that some profiles looked very suspect to say the least.
The people (or rather the impersonations) were just too “perfect” to be on a dating app.
They were incredibly attractive. I suppose they used photos of actual models or celebrities I do not know.
They also pretended to have studied in the most prestigious American or British universities and to be either an entrepreneur or a CEO.
Let’s be honest, if you’re winning so much at life, what are you doing on a dating app meant for the pleb?
As I have never liked leaving empty-handed (and also because I do not have much to do in my free time), I decided to put my journalist hat on, and investigate how romance scammers operate.
Weekend Essay: Inside the mind of a financial scammer
The first step was to create a fake profile to conceal my identity. I then started tracking and liking those dodgy profiles.
Unsurprisingly, it was very easy and quick to get matches with them. So easy that it would be enough to put anyone on alert in an ideal world.
SocialCatfish.com listed five signs that you are being catfished.
One of them is the eagerness to move the conversation off the dating app and onto WhatsApp.
For obvious safety reasons, it was of course out of question. It would have been very easy to track me. Also, I am not particularly tech savvy, but I am quite sure there is an awful lot of ill-intentioned things you can do only with a phone number.
Pretending not to have WhatsApp has, however, not been detrimental to my experiment. Their goal is ultimately to steal your money. Where and how do not matter so much.
SocialCatfish.com also highlighted that romance scammers tend to have poor grammar. It somehow contradicts the claims on scammers’ profiles that they have studied in the most prestigious universities in the world.
This is a pattern I noticed right away. In fact, English is in all likelihood not their native language and odds are high they are operating from abroad. There is no way your command of the language can be that poor if you are living in an English-speaking country.
Another thing I have noticed, which tends to indicate that those scammers operate from outside of the UK, is their total ignorance of the local geography.
While claiming to live in London, one of the scammers I chatted with told me that they had spent their weekend at the seaside in… Tower Hamlets.
I am aware that the sea level is rising, but as far as I know, we are not discussing projects to turn East London into the new Brighton yet.
Another sign listed by SocialCatfish.com is the unwillingness to meet you in person or video chat.
I did not try to suggest a video chat. Not only had I to hide my identity, but I also strongly dislike being taken in photo, filmed, or seen on camera.
However, I did propose in-person meetings to see what kind of excuses scammers would come up with. Going to the beach in Tower Hamlets was one, but it could also be more realistic subterfuges such as helping a family member.
I must say, those scammers were not particularly clever. As they claimed to be based in London, I asked them sometimes what the weather was like.
A simple check of the forecasts on Google would have given them a good chance to answer correctly. It did not occur to them that I was in London and could verify their answer.
Claims to be in love with you quickly while having never met you was also listed by SocialCatfish.com.
I can confirm that and it can be as quick as a few hours. This method probably works at times, otherwise scammers would not systematically use it.
After all, there is a lot of loneliness in this world. Think about it, former prime minister Theresa May created a role of “Minister of loneliness” back in 2018. I suppose, when you are desperate, you lose your sense of realism and cling to any glimpse of hope.
SocialCatfish.com also put “begins asking for money” in its list.
While I have not been asked for money, the scammers I encountered tried to convince me to invest via a range of shady investment platforms.
This was the point where I would take a French leave (or “run away English style” as we say in French).
Interestingly, every scammer I spoke to referred to a different platform.
I took the time to research information about these platforms. Unsurprisingly, none of them was authorised in the UK and they were all domiciled in parts of the world renown for their lenient financial oversight.
While there is an obvious connection between those investment platforms and the scammers, I have been unable to identify the nature of it.
Are both the scammers and the platforms part of an organisation? Are the scammers lone wolves earning a commission each time they successfully nudge someone into investing money on those platforms? I do wonder.
A conclusion I had immediately upon stopping this experiment is that these methods completely escape the scope of the online safety bill.
To be fair, I do not see any way of how this scourge could be tackled without infringing and intruding on people’s private lives, which is not desirable in my opinion.
Could it be that online scammers found a flawless tactic? I personally do not see any sensible solution, but the good news is that it’s not my responsibility to solve this problem.
