Andrew Vine: I’m dreaming of a spam-free Christmas

They’re the computer scammers and spammers, who, judging from the amount of junk mail flooding into my inbox, are aiming for a bumper festive season – courtesy of other people’s money, of course.

There has been a noticeable increase in this sort of traffic over the past week or two, involving attempts of varying crudeness to steal my bank details, and I’ve been trying to visualise the sort of person who might be sending it, and where in the world it might be coming from.

Some of the emails offer pretty obvious clues, like the ones purporting to be from finance ministers in Africa, offering to put millions into my bank account if I only pass on my number and sort code, but what about the rest?

Are they the work of some geeky, friendless inadequate who’s never likely to find a girlfriend, so instead sits in his bedroom in Smalltown, USA stuffing junk food into his pimply face in between trying to scam money out of strangers on the other side of the world?

Probably, at least judging from one effort that arrived the other day, supposedly from an acquaintance with the subject line “Sad news”. We’ve been mugged whilst on holiday in Greece, so please send the cost of the air fare home.

There are certain dead giveaways – the word “vacation” is used instead of holiday and “cellphone” instead of mobile. The request for $1,950 also made me smile, since the lady supposedly in distress lives in rural Hampshire where, as far as I know, the village shop and post office still prefers sterling to dollars, as did the closing line, “I’m freaked out at the moment”.

Still, doubtless our spotty Stateside scammer was probably proud of his handiwork, and confident in his cloak of anonymity. If somebody is gullible enough to fall for it and sends money, he’ll melt away into cyberspace and spend his ill-gotten gains on even more cheeseburgers.

But then, a few evenings ago, the veil of anonymity was lifted, albeit briefly. I spoke to a scammer, a real-life person with a voice and a personality, and even a name, though that was probably assumed.

The phone rang, and a young-sounding man with impeccable English, courteous manner and a slight Eastern European accent announced that he was called Adam and ringing from Microsoft. He was calling because the company had detected a problem with my computer that needed urgent attention.

Now, there have been numerous warnings about this particular wheeze from the police, trading standards departments and Microsoft itself, which doesn’t cold-call. Have nothing to do with anybody trying this stunt on, and put the phone straight down.

That’s sound advice. But curiosity at actually having a cyber-criminal on the line made me decide to string him along and see where it went. “Are you at your computer?” he asked. I replied that I was, even though I wasn’t.

He then told me to type in a series of instructions, and I chatted to him whilst apparently doing so. He was very smooth and plausible, but then conmen have to be. “Oh yes sir, a lot of people are having this problem. It’s very common at the moment. That’s why we’re getting in touch to fix it before people get themselves into trouble.”

It’s a particularly profitable crime, this one, because it hits victims twice. The instructions I was being given would have hijacked my computer allowing access to data such as bank transactions, or the card numbers used for online purchases. And then he went in for the kill.

“This will probably solve the problem, but to make sure it doesn’t happen again, we can offer anti-virus software that’s a permanent fix.”

Good of you to offer. How much? “We’re offering it for only £199, and it will give you peace of mind.” Only £199? You’re too kind. Naturally, you’ll need my bank details so we can process the transaction now.

At this point, he suddenly became suspicious, probably because the instructions I was supposed to be typing in would have connected my computer to his, and his screen was telling him I was stubbornly offline.

“You’ve been wasting my time,” he blurted out. That was a new one on me. I’ve encountered plenty of crooks, but that’s the first time I’ve come across one complaining to his intended victim that he’s declined to be made a victim.

“Sorry about that. Tell you what I’ll do. A finance minister in Africa’s been in touch, and he’s looking for somewhere to deposit a few million dollars.

He sounds very genuine, so if you give me your bank account number and the sort code, I’ll pass them on, and I’m sure he’ll see you right. How’s that?”

I didn’t quite catch what he said as he put the phone down.

None of us wish to be unkind, but as the spam and scams pour in, perhaps we should all resolve to be alert enough to make Christmas as gloomy and unprofitable as possible for those responsible.