I fell for a Taylor Swift ticket scam – don’t make the mistakes I did

I didn’t buy tickets online from a fake resale site; I wasn’t tricked by AI or ChatGPT – in the end, I fell prey to the most pernicious scam of all: faith in other people

You never think you’re going to be the type of person to fall for a ticket scam, do you? Maybe it’s age and the purported wisdom that comes with it; maybe it’s ego; maybe it’s simply self-belief... the idea that you’re someone who walks around in the world with both eyes open, actually.

You’ve birthed children! You run a busy desk on a national newspaper (this one)! You’ve been through a divorce! Survived a global pandemic (just)... and even though you once packed two different shoes – one of each pair, in different colours and with completely differently-sized heels – and had to wear them to a wedding, you got through it. You’ve lived. No flies on this one (insert “cool” emoji here).

Imagine my dismay, then, to discover that I’m an idiot.

It might sound harsh, but I deserve it: I fell for a Taylor Swift fake ticket scam – and it’s all my own fault.

(That last part is negotiable: I’m well aware that it’s the actual fault of the person who scammed me, but I still feel stupid and naive. A bit like when my dad told me when I was much too *old to have believed it that the sponges he washed the car with were alive – and I stood at the edge of the bath for an hour in open-mouthed wonder to watch these miraculous, useful creatures submerged in water breathe.)

But look, I don’t want any of you to feel as foolish as I feel, so I’m going to tell you exactly how to avoid making the mistakes I made: first, it depends on the type of scam you fall for. We’re all well aware of “phishing” tactics – when criminals use scam emails, text messages or phone calls to trick their victims into visiting dodgy websites; or even “smishing” attacks that try and steal your information.

Then there are romance scams – where someone pretends to be something they’re not; or asks for money for their suddenly sick sister; or “catfishes” you with a devastatingly attractive-but-actually-ancient profile picture where they’re 10 years younger than they are in real life; or pretends they’re single when they’ve actually got a long-term girlfriend (oh, whoops – turns out I’m a sucker for those kinds of conmen, too).

This Taylor Swift scam was none of those. I didn’t buy tickets online from a fake resale site; I wasn’t tricked by AI or ChatGPT – in the end, I fell prey to the most pernicious scam of all: faith in other people. The supposed “she’s good for it”. The word of mouth; friend of a friend; Love is Blind-style verbal assurance which turns out to be no assurance at all: “Trust me”.

Here’s what happened: a friend of mine was told by a friend of hers (bear with me) that this woman she knew – a former primary school teacher, for goodness sake! – had prime-time Taylor tickets to sell at face value, which only added to the overall sense of legitimacy. She wasn’t looking to up the price or to whack a massive premium on them; she wasn’t the sort of person to take advantage of Swifties. She was “good for it”. Except... she wasn’t.

Sure enough: the trail of WhatsApp messages with this woman, who’d previously called to confirm the tickets (four of them, at £100 a piece) would be with us “shortly”, unfortunately trailed off.

The gig, at Wembley Stadium, is this week. Still no tickets. And now the WhatsApp double blue ticks have faded to single, grey and unread; our calls are blocked. This woman, it appears, is a fraud. And she’s taken advantage of two 12-year-old girls so besotted with Taylor that they’d made 22 friendship bracelets between them to swap with other Swifties; had been to Westfield for multiple outfit planning missions.

They’d chosen the Taylor “era” they wanted to recreate – and the ones they wanted us mums to wear, too (the only saving grace to this sorry tale is that I no longer have to squeeze my 43-year-old body into a snake-themed body con dress because my tween chose me Reputation). They even bought hair gems, for goodness sake. Their disappointment was gut-wrenching.

The police (and Action Fraud) will now take care of the details, but what upsets me most about this experience – as well as the tear-stained faces of my daughter and her BFF – is that it shows how callous we can be to each other. How disheartening it is to see selfish and greedy people taking advantage of those with hope and optimism. The phrase “how do you sleep at night?” goes for both ticket scammers and toxic exes.

What’s the answer? Perhaps it is, sadly, to keep one eye open and be cautious. It’s a cliché, but it’s true: if something (or someone) looks or sounds too good to be true, then they probably are. When someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them (and make them show you the ticket barcodes the very first time, too).

Update: fortunately, there is a happy ending to this heartbreak. On tweeting about being the victim to such a scam – and pleading for someone to sell us any unlikely spares – a very kind PR managed to sort last-minute tickets to tonight’s gig at Wembley for our girls. This is a privilege, I am well aware of that. But it’s also a stark reminder that for every bad person out there taking advantage of fans and promising tickets they had no intention to deliver, someone good is waiting in the wings to swoop in and restore our faith in humanity.

* I was 16. I know.