We got off lightly, they didn't hurt us

As a tourist you are easy prey for scam merchants. Roy Noble on how it felt to be another victim

When I drove the hire car out of Palma airport's multi-storey car park, for some reason I noted the bronze Nissan pulling in sharply behind me. When I turned a corner, he turned, when I slowed, he slowed. It appeared to have three men in it; tidily dressed I have to say. "They're probably going to a meeting or business bonding soirée," I thought.

All was well, the sun was shining, the Palma harbour looked serene and I was coveting the craft in the bay. We had just passed Palma cathedral when it happened – the Nissan was suddenly alongside us, the horn was doing a fandango and our three young shadows were gesticulating madly. Their internationally understood arm semaphore clearly indicated there was something wrong with our car and that we should stop. A flat tyre apparently.

My wife, Elaine, wasn't fooled. "I don't like the look of them – keep going." So, responding to the cautious call, I did just that. In no time at all, I lost them in the westward bound traffic.

Over-confidence is that feeling you get just before you fall flat on your face – and so it came to pass. Once I was sure I had shaken them off, I turned into a side road in a busy little thoroughfare and parked outside a building site, in a spot that made bus drivers curse me for making their left-hand turn a test of nerve and wheel spinning skill.

Just behind me a smart Ford Ka also parked. Out came a Good Samaritan, pristine blue shirt and sympathetic eyes, neatly turned out below his well-groomed hairstyle. His girlfriend stayed in his car.

"I help you," he volunteered. "No thanks, I'll phone the hire car people now," I replied. "No, no, you are a tourist ... I help. Just two minutes, we change the wheel." The next minutes went by in a flash. The cases came out of the boot to get at the spare wheel, and were put in the car well hidden from view. "Nice touch," I thought. "What a thoughtful fellow."

I knelt to get the nuts off. He distracted Elaine with a tale about a nearby mechanic, and his girlfriend left their car, crept unseen on the traffic side of the vehicle between the buses and the car – and in a flash we'd been done.

Our knight in tarnished armour had ambled away from Elaine, Bonnie of this Bonnie and Clyde operation had shot away in the Ford and we were minus two pieces of hand luggage and my sports coat.

We lost passports, driving licences, medical forms, a mobile phone, credit cards, money and, in many way, worst of all, my Filofax with a list of telephone numbers gathered over 15 years, my diary and some personal items dear to the Noble household. There were also tablets in one bag – only ginseng, garlic pearls and multi-vitamins for the body beautiful, but they could have been for a serious condition. Yet, it could have been worse, for since mentioning this tale I have gleaned many other stories of holiday scams, some involving threats and personal injury, so we got off lightly I suppose.

Visiting the Consulate the following day was like an hour in a doctor's surgery. You feel assaulted and a red rosette prize-winning mug, but you're not alone. There are other "patients" in there and you compare symptoms. One couple had been robbed of all their cases, having been delivered to a hotel reception by coach, only to have their cases "taken to their rooms" by a smartly dressed English-speaking bell boy who didn't even work there. They even travelled up in the lift with him, only to be distracted by two "heavies" on their floor. Needless to say, they saw neither the unofficial hotel personnel nor their cases again.