By Isle of Wight Observer
A relative once told me she’d deliberately placed her iron face-down on her well-worn sitting room carpet. Thanks to contents insurance, when an iron-shaped burn appeared, she got a whole new carpet.
She was employed at a bank, so her insurance fraud seemed risky. When we obtain quotes, insurers ask a lot of detailed questions about our claims history. Telephone, and “all calls are recorded.” All insurers use a giant database to check whatever we’ve told them is the truth. Get it wrong, and if things turn sour; they’ll deny your claim. None of them make money handing out money willy-nilly.
After being mugged, former Transport Secretary, Louise Haigh MP, reported her work phone stolen, presumably believing her employer would replace it with a newer model, no questions asked. Incredibly, she worked for Aviva, a very large insurance company. Generously, you might believe a member of the public making a dodgy claim was naïve, but someone employed in the industry should know that claims are routinely investigated. According to The Times, sometime after the theft that never was, Ms Haigh used the ‘stolen phone’ to call a relative.
Imagine appointing a convicted fraudster to cabinet; what could possibly go wrong? Louise Haigh audaciously criticised Tories for law-breaking during Covid. “Law makers cannot be law breakers ” – she tweeted, cheekily.
The Department for Transport’s budget is £30 billion, and some of that is bound to be lost through fraud. You might argue Keir Starmer’s decision to effectively ‘pardon’ a convicted fraudster and put her in charge was a great idea; surely, she’d know how to prevent it. What happened to Labour’s promise to be honest and transparent in government?
Aged 17, I was wrongly sacked as a barman for theft. The boss didn’t involve the police, but had he called them in, I would have had something to say and explained the real reason for my dismissal. Sharon, the publican’s teenage daughter, had developed a serious crush on me, and, rather than wait to see how that played out, they got rid of me. It wasn’t the greatest miscarriage of justice in history, but honestly, I didn’t take money from the till.
For the record, I did smoke in those days and occasionally helped myself to a 35p packet of fags from behind the bar. The landlord regularly bought stolen kegs of beer from the draymen, which I assumed was a brewery fiddle.
He was half cut most days and forgot to MOT his Granada car. His wife was stopped driving it and was required to produce an MOT. An old school mate told me he could get blank ones for £20, and stupidly I passed this information on to my inebriated employer. I became the middleman for this terrible deal. The Granada’s details were hastily scribbled in, and the bent MOT was duly presented at the local police station. The landlady was immediately arrested – because the numbered certificate was on a hotlist. When asked where she got it, she offered my name, and I too was arrested. Rather than ‘grass’ on a pal, I appeared as a juvenile at Staines Magistrates Court and pleaded guilty to ‘handling stolen goods.’
You don’t forget these things; I vividly recall standing in the dock as the cheerless, old magistrate placed a black cap on his head. Solemnly he sneered, “without people like you, nothing would be stolen.” Adding, “the maximum sentence I can impose is 6 months imprisonment and or a £1,000 fine.” My heart sank; he paused and fined me £20.
The penalty for not having an MOT was £10. So, I learned it’s cheaper to drive without an MOT than buy a stolen one.
Wistfully, I still think of the landlord’s daughter, Sharon. I’ll wager she knew I was innocent.