Some may see this as poetic justice but just before my trip to Israel, a person or persons cloned one of my bank cards and lifted over £5,000 out of an account – in one hour flat! The bandits had somehow gained access to a postal address, a telephone number and other personal details of mine. It’s possible that they got the info from the internet – where I do a lot of shopping - though I always assumed servers were secure these days.
All the “purchases” were done online – bingo betting mainly (not my pastime), and lots of shoes: oddly, there's a trail to a delivery address in south-east England for the shoes. Are the parasites that dumb? I won’t go into how I got hold of this lead - or red herring - but naturally I informed the police. “Well, you should tell your bank first,” said PC Plod. “You see, if we investigated every card fraud, the crime figures would sky-rocket. It’s for the banks to start inquiries and establish that a fraud really has taken place.” I didn’t argue. Even when I told him the bank knew of the theft already he said – “Yes, but do they know of this address for the shoes?”
Surrealism and bureaucratic thinking go hand-in-hand, I’ve noticed, and silence is the only way to handle their unity. Most fascinating is how frank the cops are: they have to be target-conscious now and want their “customers” to share in the burden in the national campaign to reduce crime (at least on paper).
The bank tells me its fraud unit will “look into” my new information. Oh, well, Madame Columbo has done her best.