Monday, 5 May 2008

Will Your Picture Cost Thousands Of Your Hard Earned?

Facebook scam casting its net

Fraudsters have found a fresh hunting ground - online networking sites.
It was only a matter of time, considering that the two largest - Facebook and MySpace - have around 200 million users between them.
Ripe pickings for canny conmen, like the crooks who say they've seen your picture and profile and you're perfect for a career in modelling or acting.


Naturally, there's a price, as Peter Sidnell from Tiverton in Devon discovered after posting his details on dating site Faceparty.
He was contacted by Rachel, who claimed to be from a promotions company called Trident that represents Coca-Cola. Rachel insisted Peter was wanted as one of their faces for a new billboard campaign at Heathrow.
DODGY PAYMENT: And dodgy spelling
After Peter expressed an interest he received a NatWest banker's draft for £4,700. Very nice.
But it came with a twist. He was told to pay it into his bank account, keep 20 per cent as his modelling fee, and send £3,760 to a so-called agent. Rachel didn't explain why Coca-Cola couldn't pay its own agents. Nor did she explain why a global company would insist on payment not by credit card but Western Union.
Money transfer companies such as Western Union are loved by fraudsters because they can collect their loot in cash without leaving a paper trail. Yet another mystery - Rachel claimed to work for a firm that represented a global brand, yet she gave a Yahoo email address.
She claimed to work in central London, but when we sent her an anonymous email it was opened in Nigeria. Which may explain why whoever filled in the cheque spelt "thousand" as "thounsand".
Then Rachel got pushy. "You will deposit the cheque tomorrow, it should take 2-3 days to clear so you should be sending the money on Monday/Tuesday next week," she ordered Peter by email. We showed the banker's draft to NatWest - it was counterfeit.
And a spokesperson for Coca-Cola said: "We have no knowledge of, or affiliation, with this organisation, Trident Incorporated."
At least Peter isn't surprised to learn that he'll not be the next face of Coca-Cola. He said "I was sure it was a scam, others aren't so lucky."
Equity knows of hopeful models and actors who have lost hundreds of pounds to cybercriminals who demand up-front fees to join casting agencies.
Vest Say's, they mainly target girls on MySpace and Facebook and tell them they'll be the next big thing, then they ask for money to join a so-called agency but never get any work.
The entertainments industry is a magnet for every third-rate crook because it so easy, it costs so little to set up these scams and they know they won't be penalised.
Get sound advice on any quick money dealings, double check or check at your local bank.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Keshi said...

I knew Fuckbook wud be this shitty anyways.

Keshi.

Anonymous said...

the crooks who say they've seen your picture and profile and you're perfect for a career in modelling or acting.


did u get any offers?

Vest said...

Deleted comment: Anon (1) sorry.We don't post mens lavatory wall doggerel on this blog.

Naughty Keshi.

Anon (2)I have had plenty of these Nigerian scam letters. I simply delete them.

Anonymous said...

Touch me Love
Take me many miles
I’m not going to be afraid,
Even if you walk out on me
I still have reason to thank God
That there was love that touched me in many ways

I may cry, but never tears of regret
Just feeling blessed as love has touched my soul

Some of us take the journey of love
To merely find it’s a deception needing love so much
I realize the blessings of being touched with such love

__________________________________

Anonymous said...

let me try again...


An escaped convict, imprisoned for 1st degree murder, had spent 25 years of his life sentence in prison. While on the run, he broke into a house and tied up a young couple who had been sleeping in the bedroom.
He tied the man to a chair on one side of the room and his wife on the bed on the other side of the room. The convict got on the bed and it appeared to the husband that he may have been kissing her neck. Suddenly the convict got up and left the room. As soon as he had a chance, the husband made his way across the room with the chair in tow, and turned to his pretty young wife, bound up on the bed in a skimpy nightgown. He whispered, "Honey, this guy hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw him kissing on your neck and then he left in a hurry. Just cooperate with anything he wants. If he wants to have sex with you, just go along with it and pretend you like it. Whatever you do don't fight him or make him mad. Our lives depend on it."

"Oh honey", the wife said, spitting out her gag, "I'm so relieved you feel that way. You're right, he hasn't seen a woman in years. But he wasn't kissing my neck... he was whispering in my ear. He told me he thinks you're really cute and asked if we kept the Vaseline in the bathroom."

Anonymous said...

ONE of the easiest ways to heckle or ignite an NRI, I found was to ask in the midst of a genial conversation, “Wash or wipe?”

The context is unmistakable and the question goes home immediately. We all know that paper or water in the toilet is no yardstick to measure the degree of patriotism but it very well could be going by my NRI friends’ discomfiture.

Looks like the conversion to a western way of life tentatively begins with the unruly Indian tongue massaging its “r”s into doughy “zh”s and definitively ends with the bottom demanding paper over water.

And between the tongue and the bottom, between wash and wipe, lies a long-drawn process of cultural adjustment and appropriation and a great continental shift in world view.

Starting with better adjusted candidates — Vinu Warrier from Canada insisted that the “wash or wipe dilemma was the most under-mentioned problem of diaspora”.

He asserts his dual citizenship by always wiping with paper first and later washing in the tub. (Thanks for telling.

When I visit you I shan’t roll in your tub.) An uncle of mine admitted that he washed in India and wiped in America (that must be one long journey for so poor a cause!).

Sathya in Australia confessed that he wet paper with water and used them as wet wipes (eligible candidate for dual citizenship).

Moving on to difficult customers — Raghavan s(h)itting pretty in Boston delivered a stinging monologue on the state of the Indian loos before condescending to answer the question “Wash or wipe?” “With the western loo,” he boomed, “you have to deal with your own ass being a little less than squeaky clean after a trip.

With the Indian style loo, you are frequently wondering what exactly you are stepping on when you enter.

So, given the choice between having a little of my own produce on my ass and having other people’s produce on my feet (and possibly hands) I choose the former, as any rational human being would. So that resolves it, right?”

Pavithra in London discussing the “yuck factor” of Indian toilets said, “Despite all the newfound economic prosperity we Indians seem quite reluctant to give up our rusty iron bucket in the loo bequeathed to us by our grandmothers.

Also, you are sure that the previous visitor, after finishing his business picked up the bucket with his unwashed hands and put it back in place under the dripping tap. Paper is definitely cleaner, drier and undeniably better,” she concluded.

On her first visit to India, Rumi after just one typical Punjabi meal declared, “Why water? Indians need ice.” When the fire in her tongue (and elsewhere) subsided she couldn’t stop laughing over the all new Indian bathroom contraption.

“The mini shower hose is a riot, an invention to apparently ensure dry bathroom floors. My aunt sort of missed the whole point. She dethroned from the western closet, squatted on the floor and got her aim wrong and ended up spraying her tummy and face before she finally figured it out. Boy! Paper is god sent!”

The “Wash or wipe?” question seems a dipstick study on an NRI’s love or contempt for his country and its way of life.

The toilet paper I am afraid is no ordinary tissue — it is the final cord that permanently binds our brethren to the alien land, a filament that severs the umbilical cord with their homeland, a line that draws our brothers out of the Indian amniotic waters.

Beyond the wash-and-wipe dilemma lies the great NRI toilet dream that my good friend Raghavan dreams for the east and west alike. “Sometimes as I sit on my own humble loo with just a roll of paper on the side, I dream about a day when every loo will spray, dry, powder and fondly pat each ass that comes its way.”

Now we know what lies in the bottom of the Non Resident Indian’s heart or should we say in the heart of the Non Resident Indian’s bottom?

nigel said...

Very interesting about the scams. As you mentioend faceparty I thoguht you may be interested in the following link http://www.facepartyexposed.com

Vest said...

Nigel;I am assuming you are Nigel C ?.
I have replied with a comment on face party exposed.
Thanks for calling, call again.