The day I was banned off Facebook

The algorithm moves in mysterious, and frankly ridiculous, ways.

For three long years, I poured my heart and soul out, The endless hours I spent writing my three books. It wasn’t just a project either, it was a massive labour of love.

When the final pages were polished, I did what everyone tells you to do: I turned to Facebook to share my work with the world. I wasn’t spamming, I wasn’t causing trouble; I was just an author trying to connect with readers and get my words out there.

Then, out of nowhere, the digital guillotine dropped. ‘ACCOUNT BANNED’!

The reason? According to Facebook’s flawless artificial intelligence, I was guilty of “impersonating a celebrity.”🤪

I stared at the screen in absolute bewilderment. I couldn’t understand it for the life of me. Me? A celebrity impersonator? I racked my brain trying to figure out which Hollywood Star or pop icon I was supposedly mimicking just by talking about my books.

Then, a sudden, hilarious realisation hit me.

When I was in my early twenties, people used to stop me in the street and tell me I looked exactly like Robin Gibb from The Bee Gees. Fast forward to my thirties, and the consensus shifted—suddenly, everyone insisted I was the spitting image of his brother, Maurice Gibb. By the time I hit my sixties, the timeline completed itself, and I was apparently a dead ringer for Barry Gibb. So my entire life I have been the entire Bee Gees band? (Below is a photo taken of me when I was in my teens)

Personally: I never thought I looked a single bit like any of them? But it seems Facebook’s facial recognition software had listened to too much “Staying Alive.” Somewhere in Silicon Valley in southern San Francisco Bay Area in Northern California some micro chip thought I was a Bee Gee.

The server decided that a British Author trying to promote his literature was actually a legendary disco pop star trying to pull a fast one on the public.

At first, I was furious. How could a massive tech giant completely lock me out of my own network based on a case of mistaken identity from a computer program?

But today? I look back and realise those algorithmic bots or automated trading bots did me the biggest favour in the world. (The photo below was taken when I was in my thirties, you can see for yourself I looked nothing like Maurice Gibb.)

Getting kicked out of the Facebook ecosystem forced me to look elsewhere. It pushed me away from a platform that holds your audience hostage behind paid ads and buries your posts in a chaotic, noisy feed of people either trying to sell you something or trying to scam you out of your hard earned money.

Secretly I was glad I was shut of them and out of my life.

And that is exactly how I stumbled upon Substack.

Finding Substack was like stepping out of a crowded, frantic market square and into a quiet, cozy library filled with people who actually want to write and read. On Substack, there are no bizarre algorithms accusing you of being a 1970s pop icon. There is no shouting in a ‘falsetto style voice’ into the void. It’s just pure, direct connection between an author and their readers.

Losing my Facebook account felt like a setback, but it turned out to be the ultimate blessing in disguise. It freed me from a platform that didn’t value my work and guided me to a community where reading and writing actually thrives. So, thank you, Facebook, for the absurd compliment and the eviction notice—it was the best thing that ever happened to my writing career.

Facebook’s loss is definitely Substack’s gain.

Facebook can piss off. (Below a photo of me now, impersonating Barry Gibb?😳)

I LOOK NOTHING LIKE THE BEE GEES.