Let me introduce you to 'Bob'...
I remember my first day at college. Nervous and excited in equal measure, and happy to get out of the violent hellhole that was my secondary school, Tertiary College was going to be my big break, my new dawn. I got chatting to all the unfamiliar types, cracking jokes and making myself feel at home. It was going to be great here.

It was later on the first day that the first omen to hint that my utopian dream was doomed entered into my field of vision: Bob.

Bob... from the start, I knew their was something wrong about him, but I couldn't tell what. It was only later that I found out. Bob didn't just tell lies, his whole persona and history - as told to me and my friends throughout my 2 year eventual nightmare that was my A-level studies - was complete and utter bollocks.

I'll start with the simple stuff. Bob was fat, ugly and thick. No matter - he played keyboards in a band, which was pretty cool. Now, this was believable, there are many musicians not known for their intellect. So, I couldn't wait to hear his skills, and during a visit to Fox's in Meadowhall, I badgered Bob into giving me a demo. Scouring the keyboards, I noted a worried look on his face:

"Most of the keys on these units are too small."

Eh? Too small? Surely his fingers aren't that fat? Despite the shop having copious numbers of keyboards, not one of them was in Bob's size.

Then it dawned. He was lying, and had been found out. But this was just the start.

Then there was the time when he said he'd built a railgun - railguns use the power of magnetism to drive bullets at high velocity into targets. It's the kind of stuff seen on apocalyptic sci-fi movies, not in provincial Yorkshire colleges. Openly bragging about this (in Physics, of all places) - the tutor commissioned him and his equally stupid friend Jughead to build one for the College Open Day. Amazingly, Bob agreed!

The day came, and the Railgun was ready. Except it was made out of steel bus-bar, blue-tack, and the kinds of magnets you get in kiddy educational sets. There didn't appear to be anything that the local Scout Troop should have been fearful of, never mind the US Military. Did it work? Did it fuck. Bob claimed that my oscilloscope display had 'interfered with the electromagnetic force' and tried shouting me down during our demos. That the crowd were more interested in my ability to make wobbly shapes on the oscilloscope than the 'My First Physics Kit' shambles on the other side of the room spoke volumes.

The last story I'll tell you though, was the killer. Bob claimed to have come from a highly intellectual family. For example, his dad was a polymath, interested in loads of things but his true love was photography. So much so, apparently, that he lectures on photography and taught classes at the local community centre. Bob showed a lot of pride in his old pa, and he seemed to want to emulate such greatness.

I thought this was rather noble, and was finally thinking that Bob wasn't that bad a person after all. Except, during said discussion, it transpired that this too, was complete bullshit. Because of one simple claim.

Bob was adamant, and I mean adamant, that...

HIS DAD TAUGHT *BLIND* PEOPLE PHOTOGRAPHY.

And we're not talking visually-impaired-needing-glass-types here, I'm talking the full blown David Blunkett-braille-reading-guide-dog-needers. Doing photography. He said that despite this rather significant hindrance, they could 'still appreciate that they were taking a great picture'. Eh?

Never mind the fact that he was lying, he wasn't even able to tell believable lies. I can just see him in his bedroom, plotting his latest fib, thinking 'this is a cracker' despite the fact it's less convincing than Andie McDowell's acting.

I had to put up with these lies for years. Like his idea for soundproof paint, or that he'd shagged this girl I'd been seeing at college prior to me meeting her (I'm surprised he could have found his cock), or that he'd had trials for Sheffield United, or various other claims that we continually laughed down by my and my cadre of chums who were all finding college life too much and just needed this guy to fuck off.

In the end, it turned out that Bob was a pretty unremarkable lad, from a pretty poor part of town, his family down on it's luck and despite the aformentioned lie, his dad was a top bloke who once got us out of a heavy-shit disciplanary. There was a point that I felt bad about giving him grief about the bullshit that spewed forth from his mouth.

But then I realised that he was the worst kind of liar, one who believes their fabrications and makes out to be better than they are. Those types deserve all the shit they get, in my eyes.

Harsh, but fair, no?

Length? Bob's is probably about three inches, but he'll be out there bragging it's anaconda like...
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 20:07, 3 replies)

I knew this guy.
--From one of my old jobs. He would go on about how he was slated to be in the next Olympics, top notch martial artist don'tcha know, oh and by the way he was sponsored by Adidas or Puma, anything we wanted, he could get.

Ok, said we, we want some tshirts.

Never did get the swag, and only found out later that the only thing he didn't lie to us about was that his parents owned a Mexican food stall in the food court at the local mall.

Hrmm. Surprise, surprise.
(Rem Sir, why are you thrashing about on the floor?, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 20:06, Reply)

Pants on fire, pants soiled with urine.
In college (Uni to you) I had the pleasure of sharing accommodations with pathologialest liar I've ever been heaped nonsense on by. During our brief acquaintance, she informed me of the following projects she was working on upon the completion of her degree:
- Quentin Tarantino film project - she had met with Quent, and he was nice. Also tall. She took a lot of fictitious phone calls from Quent.
- Scholarship at the Bolshoi Ballet school. A cursory glance at her would tell you that she had the ideal, pear-shaped dancer's body.
- MIT, Harvard, Princeton, Yale, University of Awesome et al had been recruiting her for a advanced degrees in everything from performance art to cryptozoology.

This was only very briefly annoying. After the sting of the insult to your intelligence subsided, it became obvious that she was just barking mad. After the first whopper was laid upon you, it became fun. Story time.

This tale is not actually about her, though. It is about me, and the sudden and total failure of the mechanism in your brain that prevents you from saying something that, however honest, is not socially acceptable.

One day a group of us were sharing a cigarette in the common area when, improbably, the subject of breast feeding came up. The girls of the group debated the merits on the basis of mother-baby bonding, nutrition, etc. Pathological liar chimed in. She testified for formula, as she was raised on it from birth, and as you can plainly see, she turned out perfectly fine. Eyes rolled collectively. Actually, she continued with extraordinary sincerity, she had no choice. Her mother was in a serious car accident seven months into the pregnancy, and was in a coma by the time she was due. Her mother woke some nine months later. It was clear from not only her tone, but because this did not fit into pathological liar's modus operandi of self-aggrandizement that she was telling the truth for perhaps the first time since she graced us with her insanity.

We all sat in silence for a few moments, pondering the tragedy of the situation. Then I offered sympathetically, "My god. No wonder you're so fucked up."

I continued studying the ground for a second or two, as my brain brought the socially unacceptable comment filtration and awareness systems back online, and then looked up to see a number of stunned faces staring back at me, agog. I peed my pants slightly, then stammered the most impotent attempt at retroactive comment-to-joke conversion. "Ha-ha." I said. "Just, you know..." Mercifully, pathological liar was the quickest to recover. She laughed, playfully slapped me on the shoulder and left to make a phone call to Quentin Tarantino.
(Fluffly-the-merciless, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:47, Reply)

I've pretty much managed to blank this one out now,
But after my parents split up, my Dad pretended he had cancer so my Mum would feel sorry for him and come back. Still not really forgiven him for that one.
(silencer, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:45, 1 reply)

Blind Drivers
Allow me to tell you all the story of Ruth. When I went back into education I took an access course at College in Sheffield. In my class was Ruth. I nice enough person but not a weekend would go by without someone throwing stones at her house daubing offensive graffiti on her walls (every fucking week !!!!!) Three particular stories still make me cuckle to this day.

1) She had a driving licence. Nothing particularly suspicious about that until you learn that Ruth was registered blind.

2) She was involved in the Witness Relocation Program here in Sheffield. Apparently she had been moved from her original abode on The Manor and was now living in secret about three miles away in Gleadless.

3) This is not so much a new lie more an embellishment to story number one. While driving in Sheffield (right next to the Norton Watertower for those of you who dwell up here in Gods own city) I was approaching a traffic island. I made some comment about the yellow rumble strips that were in the road, Ruth pipes up :-

Ruth "I made the council fit those"

Me "How come ?" thinking there would be a genuine reason for this.

Ruth "So that blind drivers like me know when the island is coming up"

I nearly crahed the car I was laughing that hard.
(kickstandrich last had sex with your mum/sister/wife/daughter on, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:31, Reply)

Volvos and films
Years ago, we got a Volvo estate. It was quite exciting for us, as previously we had to pretty much be pureed to fit in an ancient montego. Now, we had a seat each. Of course, Volvos do have a reputation for being safe, solid and pretty ugly. I managed to convince my little brother that they were so tough, they didn't need a boat from Sweden. They had a huge snorkel fitted, and were driven across the bottom of the english channel.

Another time, we sat watching 2001: A space oddysey. One brother asks "was it filmed in space?" I told him at great length how it was done in conjunction with NASA, as part of the Apollo moon landings. He actually believed that for a short time.
( Greenbat, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:30, Reply)

Oh i'd forgotten about Haymarket...
This isn't me, this a... 'friend'. I call him this tentatively. More of an acquaintance. Anyways.

Man meets girl on intewebs. Girl lives in Hawaii, he lives in deep dark central England.

Interwebs relationship hots up, he proposes to her... over the interwebs. She says yes.

Pictures arrive of her in wedding dresses and things, getting ready to come to the UK to marry said man.

Few weeks later, a few days before her flight, news filters through from her 'sister'. Apparently she'd been killed in a car crash.

'Cept the paper had bad spelling mistakes. And we later found out it weren't true.

poor lad was heartbroken, and how we laughed at him on the forum for being such a numpty.
(Schumann makes awesome quiches., Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:13, 3 replies)

In work, at 7pm every friday night....
...some bird talks to us in the office through some speakers saying there's a fire, that we need to leave via the nearest available exit and we aren't allowed to use the lifts?

Every friday night she gets me with this the bitch.

....testing the fire what?
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:05, 2 replies)

.....................................
I am the Stig.
(kickstandrich last had sex with your mum/sister/wife/daughter on, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 19:04, 2 replies)

I know a guy who claimed to have been wrongly arrested for the Omagh bombing.
He told us, in graphic detail, how the RUC had beaten him severely for a week before discovering that he wasn't who they thought he was.
But his brother had already told me, in less graphic detail, that they'd spent the week on holidays in Portugal.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 18:56, Reply)

Single white female
I got single white femaled once by a complete pathological liar who I met at a club or a party or something. At the time I did a bit of lapdancing and a bit of DJing, strangely enough so had she. I got her a job in the strip club I worked at and it was very obvious that she had never done it before in her life. Same with the DJing, gave her a go on my decks and she couldn't mix for toffee even though she had apparently done a mix in a club once for some big name DJ while he was in the loo. She also claimed to have had orgies with lots of huge DJs.
I eventually enoughed her after Creamfields 2001. I was skint at the time cos she owed me lots of money and used to stop me from actually doing any work when she came to the club. She told me that she had no money to pay me back so I wasn't able to go along with my mates. A week or so before Creamfields she tells me that a friend of the family had died and she had to go to the funeral in Scotland. The bitch actually went to Creamfields and hung around with my mates for the weekend. Did she really think that my mates wouldn't mention that she was there?!? Then after I'd enoughed her she started sending me messages pretending to be her sister.

Properly messed up that girl.
(mmm....beer, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 18:55, Reply)

School is the best place for lies...
When I was at school a girl claimed she was having a relationship with the singer of a pop band. She claimed she met him backstage when she went to see them in London, they kissed and exchanged details. She then "went to Canada" over a weekend (!) and he put his fingers her bottom and wrote her a letter to show everyone at school that didn't believe her. One kid searched her name in an IT lesson and found pages upon pages of a fabricated diary describing the intimate details of their relationship and how no-one believed the story at school. Being the technical whiz he was, he sent the pages to every printer in the school about 20 times and emailed it to the board of governers. Kids can be so cruel.
(abmm, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 18:45, Reply)

mike tyson and bruce willis..
Worked with this bloke called simon a few years
back that said he was ringside at one of Mike Tysons title fights back in the late 80's, he said he sat next to Mike Tyson and loved telling us how he shared beers and laughs with John Mclane... Never did dig out the video and asked him to sit and watch the bout with loads of shots of the viewers at ringside.. Lying munt.

Same bloke also reckoned he watched one of Nigel Benns fights round Frank Bruno's mum's house, with Frank while Franks mum made tea and toast.

the joy.
(druncula, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 18:39, Reply)

Bloody women...
One I used to know in school would make up the most unbelievable stories about her sexual exploits. The one that I can remember most would have to be when she said she was pregnant. Apparently she'd had an abortion, the baby had died, or she had the kid and it's with her sister, depending on which day you asked her? She also claims to have seduced her sisters fiancé before crushes his balls so that he could never have children.

She's also fat.
(LukeHarrison says, "Your taste in music is shit!", Fri 30 Nov 2007, 18:35, Reply)

On the subject of blind dating.....
..one particular member of teh boards used to be a member of me pool team, and one of the other guys on the team used to turn up with his girlfriend. The girlfriend is the subject of the lying in this case, but in a funny way.

You see Lancey (ohh, had to say his board name :p) got talking to the girlfriend and she decided to set him up on a blind date with a "visually stunning bird" aquaintance, whom we had never met. Lancey agrees to this, and organises to meet up after exchanging multiple text messages. He organises the time, and emails me saying he's rather nervous and excited about the whole blind date.

Oh dear. The date was at 8pm, and I was in work until 9 (the hours suck). I get an email from his house at 8.30pm, a full half hour after the time the date was meant to start.

"Jeccy, turned up and met her so I get a text saying she's by the bar, but all I could see by the bar was someone who looked like Olive from On The Buses."

Ohhh, visually appealing then, well if you like 60's comedy re-runs :D

"She saw me and started talking, and at 10 past I told her my stomach was really bad, and said I had to go home."

He left her by the bar and legged it home. Bad bastard, I bet it made her feel 10 feet tall doing that Lancey, you bad shit.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 18:03, Reply)

Obviously it's a serious subject but...
I'm fairly sure that if she is to be believed, one of my exes is the reason that there is so much awareness now of girls having their drinks spiked.

I've had so many late night calls from her to this effect that i've lost count of them all.

Her lack of recollection about the many nights in question is "i went to hospital as i'd had my drink spiked" Now i know her and obviously it has fuck all to do with the fact that she downs the equivalent of one and a half bottles of vodka when she's out on the piss...
(By George I Think He's Got It! It's not fucking Sheep is it?!, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 17:50, 3 replies)

I didn't do it.
Oh by the way, did I mention that I'm Freddy Mercury's cousin?
(Taunting Lunatics Belming at you since, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 17:38, Reply)

AKA the danger of meeting people off the internet
I got to know this girl through an internet message board. She seemed to be going through a bit of a hard time, marriage troubles, losing her twin brother in a car crash, that sort of thing. She seemed quite fun and normal though so I quite happily agreed to meet up with her when she came to stay with a mutual friend nearby. Shortly before she came down she asked some of us on the board if we'll help us with a surfer's funeral style ashes scattering for her brother when she came to stay. Knowing how much she needed friends at the time we all agreed.
So we all met up, went through the rather traumatic experience of scattering a load of ashes at a remote beach (and the hideous moment when half of them blew back over her) saw her for a few drinks later in the week and thought little more of it.

We were more than a little surprised a few weeks later when her supposedly-dead brother starts posting on the messageboard. Turns out he wasn't dead, there was no carcrash, and she wasn't having marriage troubles.
What I really want to know though is:
a. WTF was in the jar of ashes?
b. Was it true she wrote porn for a living, because she was pretty good at it if not?!
(i love salt water, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 17:33, Reply)

When I was younger
I made stuff up to get people to like me. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Surprisingly, I had friends anyway. I grew out of it, and became a barrister.

Lawyer jokes aside (lying would actually end my career on the spot, and entail a prison sentence, as one gentleman found out not so long ago), I hear the most outrageous lies on a daily basis.

Transcript of police constable interviewing suspect for criminal damage:

PC: did you kick the fence then?

Suspect: no, not at all.

PC: but your girlfriend says you did.

Suspect: oh alright then, I did.

PC: (not listening, and obviously expecting a denial) so you're saying she was mistaken?

Suspect: no, I was just trying it on.

PC: (not quite believing how quickly this investigation will be over) so you *did* kick the fence then? Your girlfriend was right when she told us?

Suspect: yeh, but I'll sort her out when I get home.


It's one of the best feelings in the world to catch a witness lying blatantly and watch the jury tutting and shaking their heads, knowing that the defendant is going home / to jail*

Doesn't happen much unfortunately.



*Delete as appropriate according to whether you prosecute / defend.
(Exiled Youth [witty comment], Fri 30 Nov 2007, 17:25, 1 reply)

oh dear...
I think it must be in a persons genes to make them just go on and on...

There was a girl at uni lets call her Rudolp, every single thing that you said... no matter how weird or wonderful she had done it harder faster for more or less money, knew how you could have got it cheaper, or the better version...

You get the idea.

Now the thing is, I'd known this girl for absolutly years... and she led the most boring life ever... She was shacked up with a bloke 15 years her senior - that was fact.

But then that broke up... so of course what happens...

She goes into porn!

I still shudder at the thought that a late night browse might bring up sights I should not see.

lol... oh and me...

No I dont mind wearing a johnny.
Yes I have had an STI checkup.
Yes of course I am clean.
The Rythmn Method really works.
No I wont chuff in your mouth.
No this never happens normally.
No I dont find your fanny farts funny.

etc...

There was another lad but I'll have to think about how to write that one up
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 17:08, Reply)

Re: Hating Uni
A mate of mine did that.

Although, he aimed his sights on one particular course in one particular college. When he didn't get in, instead of confessing to his parents, he pretended that he had got in. For three years he left the house every morning and went to toil away in a series of dead-end jobs.

He even persuaded them that his department traditionally didn't go in for any of that cap & gown malarkey on conferring day so there'd be no ceremony. He got another mate, who did DTP, to knock up a fake diploma which his folks framed and put on the wall.

To this day his mother can't understand how a first in chemical engineering is only useful for factory work.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 17:06, 3 replies)

I know this one!
I say a mate of mine, but he pissed off a couple of years ago when he and his missus split up, and no-one’s seen him since!
But anyway, this ex-mate of mine told the most unbelievable whoppers. The most popular ones that come to mind are:
Going out with said ex-missus whilst seeing someone else practically half his age at the same time.
Bungee jumping. He claimed he had done loads of bungee jumps but was unable to provide any evidence. If you’re going to chuck yourself off a bridge on a rubber band, surely you’d get a few photos of the event?
Claimed that he had won a race at a drag racing meet. Again, no evidence.
Claimed that his next adrenalin fix would be to skate along the tarmac on steel soled boots whilst hanging on to the back of a very fast moving motorbike.
Claimed sexual experience of just about every woman he’s ever worked with.
Claimed that he was going to do a degree in “Quantum Thermodynamics”. He only just scraped through his BTEC diploma in computer studies…
He once came up with a bit of Flash that made letters in words explode and, as I was playing around with Flash at the time, I was interested to know how he did it. He refused to tell me. it later transpired that he had nicked the FLA off a Flash site...

So remember kids, lying doesn't get you anywhere! People invariably end up thinking you're a nob...
(Ghostlight, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:59, 1 reply)

Not strictly a serial liar but one lad from school went off to uni and hated it
he was scared of telling his parents so he got a job with the bus company in the uni town and worked there for the full 3 years, living in a bedsit, going back to his parents during holidays etc, even being 'too ill' to go to the graduation ceremony. They even put a graduation announcement in their local paper. We knew about it all the time and didn't spoil the secret. Well the funny thing is that he's now in his late 30's and one of the top people in the UK bus industry so it just goes to show.
(Chopper3, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:57, Reply)

Re: One-upmanship
A former housemate was like that.

For a fecking 19 year old he certainly seemed to have done an awful lot with his young life.

Strangely, it always seemed to be stuff that somebody else had done only his experience was so much better.

He ended up fucking up his second year in college very badly through non-attendance. He tried to spin them a huge yarn but they weren't having any of it and kicked him out.

So, he decided to invent some fake ME-type illness to fool his parents. His sister turned up one day to collect his stuff and told us, in all sincerity, that he'd been down home for a visit when he suddenly collapsed. "Not one of the doctors can find out what he's suffering from" she told us proudly. We kept quiet as we didn't want the fucker back again. The only things he ever studied under our roof was porn on t'internet, daytime tv and joint smoking.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:53, Reply)

Did you really???
I used to have the unfortunate pleasure of working with the most pathological liar of pathological liars.Whom we shall call john as this was his name.

He used to come up with these huge lies that not even himself could believe, whether he did this for pleasure or too make him look like a cunt i do not no

one day he was talking to our managing director about how he had been hunting at the weekend in DERBY of all places. As he considered himself the most unluckiest man alive he had shot a horse by mistake. As he claimed it is illegal to shoot horses he and his 2 hunting compadre's had to set up camp and then eat the whole horse to get rid of the evidence.

I no surely this cannot but to true but it is, he was even quite insulted when i fell to the floor in a puddle of piss laughing my as off.

This along with the time when he was golfing one day and he had lost his ball, he was looking for ages apparently when he kicked a dead bird and there it was, claiming he had butchered the bird with his awesome drive. he failed to say if he had to get rid of the evidence this time but i suspect he did.

these are but only 2 of the whopping porky pies i heard over the 3 months of working with him but to be fair i found it hilarious

Length non stop

First post oh YEAH
(fase69, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:47, 1 reply)

hmmm
a friend of mine said to his now wife, when he started seeing her, that he was using condoms because he was always careful and only didn't use them when he knew it was special

failing to mention the dose he'd got off some skanky girl and the numerous visits to the clinic to clear it up

oh and if your spouse never invites you to work drinks, but goes on work drinks all the time... guess what, they're banging someone from work
(Darth Vodka, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:46, Reply)

I worked with a serial liar who once claimed his wife was having twins
8 months in and he realises it's all going to get embarrassing soon so he says that she miscarried one over the weekend - boohoo face, the lot. He'd forgotten that his wife collected him from work each day, how much more embarrassed he was when we all went out to console his wife when she arrived, her confused look soon turned to anger and we waved him off laughing hard to ourselves.
(Chopper3, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:43, Reply)

I'll just send someone over to you now...
I work an incredibly shitty minimum wage job (although the min wage here is €8.65 WOOYAY!) on saturdays.

I clean tables and cleaning tables is all I do. I don't like taking orders from customers because I usually get the food mixed up, so whenever someone asks me to take an order, I reply with the wonderful line 'I'll just send someone over to your table who has a notepad.'

Never, not once have I ever sent someone over. I must say this hundreds of times every day.
(BobbyDarin Was somewhere Beyond the Sea on, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:32, Reply)

a story of a pathalogical liar and one which will make me look
like a pathalogical liar.

A kid called Adam, who lived down my road when I was growing up was always claiming bizarre stuff. His 2nd most outrageous was that he had built a robot from a BBC-B computer and some other random household electronics.
Unfortunately, he also claimed to be Alvin Stardust's son which in fact, turned out to be true. His name was Adam Fenton, and he's some reasonably successful DJ of some kind now.
see here
(Redbull_(UK) pfffft, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:29, Reply)

When I was in halls of residence
I regularly used to make up urban stories about "myself" and see how long they would take to come back to me in the form of someone's "mate's friend heard".
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 16:25, 1 reply)