Deception by DesignDeception by Design

Occasional essays on the art, science and psychology of deception and counterdeception.

Simon Henderson is an independent deception consultant working in the UK and the US.  His career has involved researching, teaching, and consulting on deception, counter-deception, information operations and cyber operations within a variety of government, military, and law enforcement organisations.  He is a keen student of magic and is passionate about novel and pro-social applications of deception.

The Wink

By Simon Henderson on
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio at Pexels.com (edited).

A few years ago, I was scammed. I actually rather enjoyed it.

It was a weekday morning, and I was standing in a standing-room-only, personal-space-invading, hot-and-sweaty-tin-of-sardines train carriage.

I exited at London Charing Cross and was immediately engulfed by a surging confluence of passengers, all rushing inexorably towards the automated ticket barriers at the end of the platform. As the crowd neared the exit, it further compressed, slowing to an awkward shuffle that advanced just inches at a time.

The people-pressure-cooker behind the barrier created a constant flow of people through it. And the corresponding stream of tickets inserted into the machine meant that the barrier never fully closed. Occasionally, it would begin to close, then snap open with a loud thunk as the next person inserted their ticket.

As I reached the machine, I inserted my ticket. But this time, the previously ever-open barrier slammed shut. Simultaneously, the person who had, mere fractions of a second earlier, exited the barrier in front of me, looked over his shoulder and winked at me.

In an instant, I knew what had happened. The person in front had mimed putting his ticket into the machine (I realised I never saw his actual ticket) and then moved his body towards the open barrier. On autopilot, I inserted my ticket into the machine, causing it to stay open. This let the person in front through, and the barrier shut behind him. He had enjoyed a free rail journey, while I definitely was not enjoying its consequences.

With increasing panic, I retrieved my ticket and (in a pitiful public display of my innocence) inserted it again. A large red cross lit up the machine, publicly broadcasting my rejection. In the crush, exasperated eyes burned into the back of my head. It was a bloody nightmare.

I turned to face the baying, ever-deepening crowd, which I now blocked from exiting the platform. I began to fight my way against the raging tide, my weak smile breaking frequently to silently mouth an ever-so-British “sorry”.

I eventually made my way to a guard and explained what had happened. Without acknowledgment or even eye contact, he wearily inserted his card into the machine to let me through.

At the time, this experience was exasperating.

So, I was caught off-guard by the rush of delight that subsequently flooded my senses.

My scammer’s simulated insertion of his ticket into the machine and the choreographic timing of his approach to the barrier were poetry in motion. His cheeky wink and unerring confidence that the crowd would prevent me from ever catching him was the cherry on top of his perfectly executed scam cake.

I usually remark that the best scams leave no trace as to their existence. In this case, I am forced to make an exception.

Deceptive movement is critical to many forms of deception. It occurs in scams, magic, sports, illusions, art, special effects, casino cheating, military deception, and many other applications.

For a variety of interesting studies on deceptive movement, see:

And remember, if you ever find yourself standing in front of a crowded automatic barrier, do ensure that the person in front of you is clear before you insert your ticket!

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