From ‘Hi Mum’ to fire and rescue fraud: the latest scams to watch out for

My 14-year-old had a shifty look on his face this week when he told me he was in debt to his mate Finley, by 25aed. He looked particularly worried, I noted. 

Then, wouldn’t you know it, Finley turned up at the door, literally a minute later. 

“Ah, the debt collectors are here,” I chirped.

But of course, Son2 didn’t have 25aed (or at least claimed not to have it), and I couldn’t let Finley leave without being paid back. So I fished 25aed out of my wallet and handed it over.

What ensued next was what I can only describe as an explosion of suppressed raucous mirth erupting from Son2, Finley and another friend as they hot-footed it out the door pretty fast.

I’d been scammed, I realised – they were now off to the store to buy sweets, crisps, Takis. Loot they were sure to enjoy – as to the victors go the spoils.

Coincidentally, the next day my mum messaged me asking, “Have you sorted out your financial problem?”

“Eh?” I replied. I wasn’t aware of a money issue.

It turned out she’d almost fallen victim to the ‘Hi Mum’ scam.

This is when scammers impersonate a family member with the end game of extracting money or accessing bank information. 

The scammer claimed that ‘I’ had dropped and broken my phone, explaining why they were contacting from a different number.

Apparently, ‘I’ had bought a new phone – an iPhone 14 – lucky ‘me’!

After a few messages had been exchanged to build a rapport, the scammer asked my mum to urgently help pay a bill (almost £3,000), under the ruse of the smashed phone and needing funds because they couldn’t access their online banking verification temporarily.

It was a close call – as mum really thought she was talking to me (although I must say, it honestly doesn’t sound like me!).

In cases like this, even if it’s only valuable time that’s wasted and trust shattered, the feelings of violation and betrayal can linger long after the incident has passed.

I found this Hi Mum scam especially cruel as it preys on people’s emotions and relationships with family members who they naturally want to help out, but the next thing my mum told me just made me laugh out loud…

“We had a man come to the door this morning who said he was from the Fire and Rescue Service and wanted to check the house. Said he had ID and said he had a fire engine outside!!” 

Thank goodness the lady from down the hallway saw him off!

What ever will these despicable scammers come up with next?

Moral of the story: Always be sceptical, ask questions, and verify the identity of the person engaging with you (example coming up in next blog post!).

Deliveroo bike tailgated by a persistent and overly attached Land Cruiser

Well, I thought I’d seen it all when I was tailgated by a school bus in the rain a couple of weeks ago.

I hadn’t – tonight’s tailgating episode left my eyes as wide as saucers!

Trundling along, I heard honking to my left. 

In Dubai, honking horns is like a game of musical chairs, except instead of chairs, you’re fighting for road space. Instead of music, you’re treated to the soothing sounds of car horns blaring at once.

Pipping the hooter is a national pastime. It can be both cathartic and frustrating. On the one hand, you feel satisfied when you let out a good, long honk after someone cuts you off or merges into your lane without warning. On the other hand, the constant noise can be overwhelming, like being stuck in the middle of a never-ending parade of angry geese.

And don’t even get me started on the different types of honks. There’s the short, sharp honk that says, “Get out of my way”; the long, drawn-out honk that says, “I’m so angry I can’t even form words”; and the friendly honk that says, “Hey there, fellow driver, let’s share a moment of camaraderie in this sea of chaos.”

But the best honks are entirely unintentional. For example, when someone accidentally leans on their horn while adjusting their sunglasses or scratching their nose. It’s like a sudden burst of noise that snaps you out of your driving trance and reminds you that you’re not alone in this crazy world.

But I digress. I looked left to see what the commotion was all about. There was a Deliveroo driver on a motorbike travelling beside my car. Now, I happen to think these riders are like real-life superheroes, but rather than saving the world, they deliver your favourite food right to your doorstep. They magically transform your hunger into happiness within minutes.

These food delivery ninjas must be quick on their feet, able to dodge traffic like a matador dodging a bull. And just like a matador, they must be brave, willing to face the dangers of the open road, armed only with a smartphone and a can-do attitude.

And let’s not forget the challenge of finding the right house, especially when the house numbers are in a cryptic code that only the Illuminati can decipher.

To my horror, the poor Deliveroo motorcyclist who had drifted into the faster lane was being tailgated by a Land Cruiser with blacked-out windows. This wasn’t just any old tailgating. Oh no, this was tailgating Dubai-style. It was like the driver, a shadowy figure sitting superiorly higher than the bike rider, was auditioning for a role in the next Fast and Furious movie. The poor, vulnerable Deliveroo rider could probably see his own alarmed reflection in the Landcruiser’s flashing headlights. 

All ended safely, thank goodness, though the motorcyclist did have to swerve out of the way as fast as he could. I do hope he got a big tip at his delivery address.

The next time you see a Deliveroo driver speeding down the road, give them a wave and a cheer because they are the true food delivery champions!

Valentine’s Day treat for book lovers

I hope everyone enjoyed Valentine’s Day … if it didn’t quite shape up, go on, treat yourself today! (Distracted Housewife in Dubai Diary details below)

Meet Brittany Blum, a mother of three living far from home who is certain she’d nail life in the desert if she could:

  • a. Lose the Dubai stone 
  • b. Set parental controls on her kids’ devices 
  • c. Figure out what to do with herself now she’s followed her husband to the Middle East and lost him to another woman

At the start of the year, Brittany decides it’s time to get back on her feet. As she struggles through the ups and downs of her newly single life in the sandpit and tries to shrug off the ‘trailing spouse’ label she hated anyway, she turns for support to four very different expat friends: Adrianne, Natasha, her first ‘ex’ and a bottle of Prosecco. 

Welcome to Brittany’s first diary: a year of trail-blazing – with the occasional crash and burn – rediscovery.  

Click here to buy in paperback.

To buy the international, uncensored version please search for It’s Prosecco O’Clock Somewhere by Marianne Makdisi on any Amazon marketplace (same book, but with the naughty bits ~ available as an e-book for Kindle or paperback)

Driving in Dubai: Mario Kart, with real cars and no shells to throw at your opponents

I spend a lot of time driving in Dubai, and it can be a wild ride. 

To anyone venturing out for the first time, I’d recommend forgetting everything you learned about driving in your home country because, on the city’s eight-lane highways, you’ll see drivers playing a real-life game of Frogger – hopping from lane to lane without missing a beat.

The roads are a chaotic mix of fast-paced highways, winding backstreets and sudden roundabouts that can leave even the most experienced drivers feeling dizzy.

One of the first things you’ll notice when driving in Dubai is the sheer number of luxury cars on the road. Lamborghinis, Ferraris and Rolls Royces are a common sight, and it’s not unusual to see a family of five crammed into a sports car that looks like it was designed for two. 

The other day, I came off a roundabout in the wrong orbit – in the fast lane, which I usually avoid due to the aggressive, extreme tailgaters. This is a common problem on Dubai’s busy roads and refers to drivers who closely follow your vehicle, flashing their headlights.

Unable to move over, it wasn’t long until I saw a tailgater in my rearview mirror, approaching my car faster than a gazelle on caffeine. He began flashing his lights. I still couldn’t safely move over due to traffic, and so my car became like a magnet for his. 

It was as if he had a personal vendetta against my vehicle and was determined to kiss my bumper all the way to my destination. I wondered if he was trying to communicate with me through some kind of secret brake light flashing code.

Over many years, I’ve learned that it’s not worth letting drivers like this ruin your day – but another incident a couple of weeks before did leave me completely gobsmacked.

It even happened in the slow lane, where I was travelling along cautiously as it was raining cats and dogs, it was dark, and cars were aquaplaning in the other lanes. 

A large, long vehicle rushed up behind me and began blinking its lights. He was like a persistent mosquito, and as I attempted to keep my cool, he stayed behind me, determined to keep up the annoyance.

He weaved around me on the left and I got a clear look at what it was. 

It was a school bus! A yellow beast, driven not by the usual patient soul, blessed with a calm demeanour belying the chaos coming from his cargo of chattering children, but by a first-class idiot. The bus was devoid of kids, but still … what a nutter. 

Of course, my kids think it was hilarious that a school bus, something they consider to be the equivalent of a giant yellow snail inching its way down the road, tailgated me!

Heavy rainfall turns Dubai desert green

When it rains in Dubai, it’s like the city suddenly gets hit by a storm of excitement and confusion. The residents are so used to the hot and dry weather that they don’t know how to react when it starts pouring down. Some run for cover, while others dance in the rain like they’ve never seen water fall from the sky before.

The roads turn into rivers and the cars look like tiny boats sailing through the streets. The infrastructure can barely keep up, but that’s all part of the fun! You never know when you’ll get caught in a flash flood, so it’s always a good idea to carry a floatie and a snorkel with you.

It’s like a party that the whole city is invited to, but nobody knows the dress code or owns an umbrella.

The city transforms into a giant slip ‘n slide, with people sliding down the roads in their cars, while others use the flooded streets as a personal swimming pool. It’s like a giant water park, but instead of paying for admission, you just have to brave the heavy rain.

Since the weather is so scorching and parched much of the year, the rain is like a cold shower to the city’s residents, and we just can’t get enough of it! (Except if you’re on the roads – then it’s no fun at all and you can expect to be stuck for hours.)

My favourite thing about the city turning into a big, wet and wild adventure, as it did last week for three whole days, is that the arid desert outside our compound is now covered with a carpet of green.

Can you spot the gazelles? Here’s a close-up…
Photo courtesy of Elika McCormick

Paperback now available!

Meet Brittany Blum, a mother of three living far from home who is certain she’d nail life in the desert if she could:

  • a. Lose the Dubai stone 
  • b. Set parental controls on her kids’ devices 
  • c. Figure out what to do with herself now she’s followed her husband to the Middle East and lost him to another woman

At the start of the year, Brittany decides it’s time to get back on her feet. As she struggles through the ups and downs of her newly single life in the sandpit and tries to shrug off the ‘trailing spouse’ label she hated anyway, she turns for support to four very different expat friends: Adrianne, Natasha, her first ‘ex’ and a bottle of Prosecco. 

Welcome to Brittany’s first diary: a year of trail-blazing – with the occasional crash and burn – rediscovery.  

Click here to buy in paperback.

Brits’ new pastime: plane spotting via Big Jet TV

I’d planned to walk the dog this afternoon. Until DH called out, “Big Jet TV’ is on again – there’s another storm.”

“Another one?” I replied, a little surprised that so soon after Storm Eunice the UK was being battered by yet more extreme weather. I couldn’t resist sitting down to catch more of Jerry Dyer’s hilarious commentary as he livestreams planes landing at Heathrow on his YouTube aviation channel.

“Bosh. Get it down, mate!” I heard him exclaim as a 777 landed and I settled in with a cup of tea. 

“I am landing this plane! I really am. I have a golf class,” he quipped as riveted viewers watched another plane’s wobbly approach from the edge of their sofas. “Hummmmm … maybe not … cancel the teacher please, I’m going round.” 

Filmed from a muddy pony field next to the airport, his channel rocketed to fame on Friday when Brits were advised to stay home (again) and avoid travelling due to 122mph winds. While trains and buses were cancelled, Heathrow was still operating under the most severe conditions, with some incredible landings and dramatic go arounds, testing the limits of the pilots.

Brits looking to entertain themselves found an unlikely hero in plane spotter Jerry, whose endearingly cheeky commentary was both enthusiastic and informative. His passion for the skill of the pilots at the controls was clear to see as he empathised with both them and the poor passengers being bumped and rocked around in their seats.

I especially loved it when a pilot’s wife messaged in and we then got to watch her husband land his plane. No pressure there then. 

I also LOVED the tweet from @Edgware Bubbles: “It’s ‘Strictly’ for planes, marked on style and technical ability!

Jerry attracted 6.5 million viewers that day as his channel, which he’s run for the past five years, really, erm, took off. People tuned in from all over the world. I should confess that we’ve watched it in normal times too, such are the TV habits of our aviation household – but it’s never been as nail-biting or stomach-churning as it was on Friday.

The airplane enthusiast, the son of an airline captain from Sussex, had to balance TV interviews with his relentless live commentary, at one point describing how Channel Four News were standing at the fence, trying to get into the field on the eastern end of Heathrow’s runway.

It did strike me that the aviation geek’s new-found-stardom and cool factor was bad news for birders, who were, until now, able to poke fun at plane spotters for being nerds.   

This afternoon, I thought I’d just spend five minutes watching Big Jet TV, then get on with walking our dog Bella … 

An hour and three mugs of tea later … “Sorry Bella! We’ll walk tomorrow. There’s another A380 coming in!” 

EDITED TO ADD: First Heathrow …now SPACE! Jerry is reportedly now in talk with Nasa over filming a rocket launch in Florida.

What do you think? Jerry told CNN the popularity of his livestream was all about the battle. In his words, “it’s the forces of nature against an alloy tub with wings on it that we built and we have to control it down onto the ground in Mother Nature’s winds”. And the whole episode does seem part of this new world in which rather than getting brownie points for heroically toughing it out, people instead watch the machines battle the elements from under the duvet.

Ditching their devices on digital detox day (haha!)

During this era of educational dystopia, my kids have started whining endlessly about having to go to actual, physical school. It sets my teeth on edge every time they grimace and say, “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

“Yes, you do,” I reply without fail, feeling cross. I blame all the school closures for this. For making them think it doesn’t matter if they miss school. That going to school is negotiable. 

“Can’t we do online school instead?” they wail.

“No,” I snap, my blood pressure rising. It isn’t up for discussion, in my books. How will they get through life if they think it’s okay to just absent themselves or hide away online the moment they have to do something they don’t want to do. 

I try to explain that the past two years are not the new normal, that the cancellations and closures, the rolling out of bed two minutes before online registration, the virtual classrooms, contract tracing, non-stop masking and threat of exams being suspended are NOT acceptable. But it’s been two years now. That’s quite a long time in their lifetimes.

I want them to learn that showing up – in person – is one of the most important things in life. But maybe I’m just being old school. It’s so hard to impart this lesson when Covid has encouraged a no-show, stay-away culture. 

Anyhow, their constant campaign to skip school was stepped up a notch on Friday, the last day before half-term. I heard all about how half the school would be missing due to being close contacts (probably true), and because lots of parents far nicer than us had given their kids the last day off (really?). They also told me it was digital detox day.

I laughed out loud at their dismay! I could imagine the teachers talking it up, telling the students they’d be on a digital detox the next day, trying to make it sound fun. And my boys visibly whitening, horrified at the prospect of not getting their electronic fix.

“Look, it’s only half a day,” I argued back to them. Fridays in the UAE for the public sector and schools are short, half-days now. Honestly my kids are home at precisely 12.05pm, in weekend mode. I’ve had to start going to the office on Fridays as it’s impossible to get a whole day’s work done with them – and their equally demob-happy friends – in the house.   

Happily (for me), they both went to school on Friday, and suffered (their words) through digital detox morning. I refuse to call it a day when it was only four hours.

“How was it?” I asked Son1 that evening.

“Horrible,” he replied and I found myself wondering if they’d actually switched the entire school wifi off (hehehe). I pictured him holding his phone in the recovery position, raised above his head, desperately hoping it would pick up a signal. 

I was tempted to tell my sons for the umpteenth time that I didn’t have internet as a child, and when I first got on the world wide web at home it was a noisy dial-up connection that crawled along painfully slowly while I grew older waiting for pages to load. But they think that was back in the dark ages.