I was enjoying one of those wonderfully lazy days between Christmas and New Year when a voice message from my then-landlord came out of the blue, turning my life upside down.
‘You’ve got five days to move out of the flat – we’re all being evicted,’ he informed me during a ten-minute message that set my heart pounding.
I couldn’t make sense of it. I had been renting a room in a three-bedroom flat in east London for the past ten months and hadn’t missed a single payment.
As an organised person, I’ve never missed a payment on anything. I have a perfect credit score and live a law-abiding life. How was I, a professional and trustworthy individual, in this position?
What I didn’t know at the time was that I’d fallen for a new rental market scam. Worst of all, I later found out I’d been living with my scammer – and even sharing my dinners with him.
I was only supposed to live in the flat for one month at first, it was a stop gap. I had just bought my first home, a new-build flat in east London, but it wasn’t quite ready to move into yet.
So last Feburary I moved out of my previous flat-share and found a room to rent on Airbnb for one month near my new home, just until I could get the keys.
‘You’ve got five days to move out of the flat – we’re all being evicted,’ my ‘landlord’ informed me during a ten-minute message that set my heart pounding
Ten months later, with the move-in now scheduled for March 2026 because of issues with the heating and hot water system, I had made a home out of my very un-homely Airbnb living situation.
The Airbnb was a smart three-bedroom apartment in a block near London City Airport.
All three rooms were up for rent. There was a large en-suite master bedroom listed at £2,700 per month, a smaller double room for £1,700 and a single room for £1,500. There was a communal living space, main bathroom and balcony, all of which were clean, modern and much more appealing than some of the tired bedsits in the same area. It also came with free parking.
Properties listed on Airbnb tend to cost more to rent at an average of £2,000 per month because they are typically designed for short-term stays. I knew I would have to pay more as I couldn’t commit to a longer-term contract.
It was more expensive than I really wanted to pay – my previous flat cost me £1,000 a month – but it was only for one month. I splurged and booked the double room.
Upon arrival I met my host, who we’ll call Felix. He was tall, in his 20s and seemed professional. I also met my temporary flat mate, another young man, Adam, who was equally as tall, but a lot more smiley.
Adam said he’d just returned from travelling and was ‘Airbnb-ing’ until he figured out where he wanted to live on a more permanent basis.
Felix took the time to show me around, clear out some cupboard space and help me bring in my bags.
After unloading my car, I asked him to let me into the underground car park.
‘Oh, it’s free parking outside,’ he said. But it was clearly not free parking.
Outside the flat, the roads were painted with double yellows and in the lay-by where my car sat there were clear signposts stating ‘loading only, 20 minutes maximum’.
After ten minutes of back and forth with the host, I decided to trust my gut and park at the nearest, safest and reasonably priced multi-storey car park that would allow me to come and go throughout the week. It was in Stratford, 20 minutes away, and cost £9.50 a day.
Later that night, Felix was still in the flat and it was only then that I realised he lived there with us. Airbnb hosts typically disclose this when it’s the case – Felix had not. He was staying in the single room, while Adam had the master.
As a young woman, living with two men wasn’t the ideal situation but, upon initial impressions, I didn’t feel like I had anything to worry about. In any case, there were locks on the bedroom doors.
As a young woman, living with two men wasn’t the ideal situation but, upon initial impressions, Louise Oliphant didn’t feel like she had anything to worry about
The next morning, as I headed to work, I passed a row of cars littered with yellow parking fines. Thankfully I hadn’t trusted what Felix had said.
Having confirmed I needed parking prior to my visit and it being clearly advertised on the Airbnb listing, I was disappointed to be forking out an additional £300 that month to park my car nowhere near where I was staying.
I spent the next few weeks scanning websites and local Facebook groups for bays to rent. Anyone lives in London with a car will know the struggle.
I managed to find a man with an available bay in the underground car park of my building, which cost £150 a month. And it was a good job I did, because the day after I spoke to him I heard from the developers of my new house that it would not be ready to move in to for at least another three months.
Felix reassured me I could stay longer and even offered a subsidised rent (at £1,200 a month) given I’d be staying longer term.
He said that to pay the cheaper rate I would have to make the payment directly to his business, not via Airbnb.
In hindsight this was a mistake as I lost valuable protections Airbnb offered.
I supposed I’d have to get used to living here.
The next few weeks involved the three of us getting to know each other. We’d gotten into a bit of a routine. I’d be home from work between 7pm and 8pm, we’d cook then watch TV or just spend the evening chatting.
Most nights Adam would go to bed at 10pm and I’d go to my own room shortly after.
But our host seemingly never slept. He was always the last one in the living space and the first one there in the morning. He had a computer screen set up at the dining table where he ‘worked’ on his Airbnb company all night long.
While strange, it wasn’t any of my business.
One evening in April I had a shock when I heard an older man’s voice coming from the living room. He introduced himself as ‘Yusuf staying in room three’.
Confused, I looked over to Felix: ‘Isn’t that where you sleep?’
‘I sleep anywhere,’ he told me.
It suddenly clicked, I realised his ‘all-nighters’ were a cover and he had been sleeping on the sofa each night while secretly renting out the third room. His cryptic response made me feel very uncomfortable.
Once I started to think about it, I realised he’d been hiding his bedding and other belongings in a locked storage cupboard in the corridor of the flat.
Was this allowed? Turns out it is. But if not disclosed to tenants for full transparency it can be a misinterpretation of the space, according to Airbnb.
The next few months were not pleasant. Different people came and went from room three, paying up to £300 for one night, and Felix continued to use the living space as his bedroom. I tried to look past it as I didn’t believe there was a better option.
After all the host wasn’t a horrible person, day to day he was fine to be around. Besides, I was in the office five days a week and frequently travelled to my parents’ home in the Midlands on weekends.
It was an odd living situation and far from stable but with new-build delays continuing to push my move-in date, it did the job.
While I do not blame anyone but Felix for this, I do wonder about the measures Airbnb are taking to certify their hosts
I ended up living there for 10 months before my host left the bombshell voice note last December.
He came clean on everything – he admitted he did not own the flat at all, his lettings company did not exist and that he hadn’t paid the rent or bills in about a year.
Felix had been renting the flat on his own and had created a profile on Airbnb to sublet the rooms while claiming to be the landlord. He collected our money but never paid the rent.
On the voice note he left me, he said we all had been served an eviction notice and had five days to vacate the flat.
He spun excuses for not paying the rent to the landlord and listed various issues with the building management. He said: ‘They’re not responsive, they won’t allow me access to parking, they’re not on-site and not willing to fix anything that’s broken.’
He described the situation as ‘an opportunity’ to move to a ‘more spacious three-bed’ and proceeded to tell me about a new property he had ‘secured’ about five minutes’ drive away.
His calm tone scared me. My response was the total opposite – I started to panic. I had been sleeping peacefully in a flat that was not being paid for; coming and going from work as I pleased and chatting to neighbours in the lift. While none of this was my fault, I felt shame.
Had I really been so gullible and were there warning signs I’d ignored?
The bottom line was that he was taking money from people in vulnerable living situations and raking in the cash.
When doing a post-mortem over tea with my mum we calculated he must have pocketed about £30,000 in rent from ‘tenants’. And that was just from this property.
He’d told me he also owned three other properties in the city. Of course this may not have been true but, if so, it could mean more people were in the same situation – and that he was making even more money.
He’d often stock up the fridge with necessities, book a cleaner and treat us to takeaways – and I just assumed he was an incredibly generous person.
The reality was that we were paying for all of those things ourselves while living in a flat we had no right to occupy. As soon as I knew this, I cleared out my belongings in two days and moved back in with my parents while I continued to wait for my new home to be ready.
I feel lucky I never had the shock of the property management, bailiffs or police visiting the flat while I was there. I don’t know if anyone has attended since or if my old host is still living there, since he told me he was moving to a new apartment.
I don’t know whether Adam has any idea what happened as he had moved out a good few months before and we didn’t stay in touch.
In the UK it is illegal to sublet a property you do not own without the permission of the landlord or housing association.
Those who do face up to £50,000 in fines, court action or even criminal prosecution and imprisonment. I don’t know what will happen to Felix and, frankly, I’m just happy to be out of this mess. Legally, because I was never declared as a tenant, I do not owe anything to the owner.
While I do not blame anyone but Felix for this, I do wonder about the measures Airbnb are taking to certify their hosts.
When I put this to Airbnb, a spokesman said of my case: ‘The majority of this stay was booked-off the platform for 10 months, and we remind guests to always book and pay on Airbnb, where guests can benefit from our secure processes and policies like AirCover, which provides guests with rebooking support or a refund in the rare event there’s an issue with a stay. The host is no longer on the platform.’
By allowing people like my host to present themselves as accredited business accounts that host multiple properties, Airbnb is putting people at risk.
The good news is that my flat is finally ready to move into in a couple of weeks and I can put this period in my life down as a blip in the road.
Names have been changed