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This is a question Pathological Liars

Friz writes, "I recently busted my mate who claimed to have 'supported the Kaiser Chiefs in 2001' by gently mentioning that they weren't even called that back then."

Some people seem to lead complete fantasy lives with lies stacked on lies stacked on more lies. Tell us about the ones you've met.

BTW, if any of you want to admit to making up all your QOTW stories, now would be a good time to do it.

(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 12:17)
Pages: Latest, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, ... 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Seats on the Tube
First some background.

A few years ago, I came off my motorbike and ripped a chunk out of my knee. All superficial damage, but it left a rather nasty scar.

For the strong of stomach, here's a before picture before they stitched it up.

And an after

(If anyone is really desperate I can take a 5 year after picture sometime this weekend. It's just a 15 inch long, 2 inch wide curving scar on my knee).

Now it's purely cosmetic, itches slightly sometimes, but no damage to the knee at all. I'm in no pain, can stand, walk run etc 100% fine.

Anyway, I hate standing on the tube. And when I get on, I'll rush past anyone to sit down. (Well almost anyone, the extremely old (past 70), the pregnant and those on crutches I'll give up my seat).

So one day, I'm standing in my usual spot, and I see a middle aged woman getting ready to get on. And I can see it in her eyes, we're going to have a race here.

Get on the tube. There's a seat closer to me. The other woman goes for it. I beat her there by about 2 seconds.

She turns and stares at me. Then starts muttering under her breath. Now there is nothing physically wrong with this woman, she just ran for a seat. She's just as lazy as me.

Without saying a word, and with her staring at me and the other commuters glancing over, I roll up my jeans leg to reveal the nasty scar.

The woman starts to blush. And if I left it at that, it would have been enough. But I couldn't resist being a complete and utter cunt.

"I got that defending my country for ungrateful cows like you!"

(Note, the closest I have been to being in the army is Paintball, so I'm now being a lying bastard of the highest degree). Half the carriage now started to stare at this poor woman, who turned bright red, and bailed down to the next carriage at the next stop.

Yep I'm a lying bastard, but don't get in between me and a tube seat.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:52, 6 replies)
In 2001 Kaiser Chiefs were called Parva
My ex-bandmate's band supported them in Birmingham (along with some band called Halo), and they were absolute shite. Possibly the worst band I have ever seen. At the time, Parva were an industry joke, constantly sending out horrible demos to whoever had any power.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:50, 7 replies)
Pants on fire
A good friend of mine is 2 days older than me, which used to be great in terms of sharing birthday parties. However, this has now changed. Now she has a (much) younger boyfriend and has suddenly and mysteriously lost a few years, which means we could not share a recent 'big' birthday and nobody was allowed to bring up the topic of age. Difficult when you are surrounded by balloons and stuff proclaiming said numbers.....
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:49, Reply)
Last night in fact
I was out and about in Hull with two mates when a third person joined us out of the blue, not naming any names, we'll call him Ja-e. So he sat with us and then began to tell us stories about his past; being overly loud and trying to be the best.

-Apparently over summer he was one of the biggest drug dealers in the city.

-When in London had started a Fight Club which was organised like in the same style as the film, with himself the leader.

-He mentioned that the Krays had killed his grandfather and his other grandfather was a millionaire who gambled away a street he owned.

Oh J-ke how silly you are!
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:44, Reply)
Fat Bryan
When I was in school there was a persistent liar who everyone called Fat Bryan. There was no need for the 'Fat' bit really, as he was the only Bryan in the school! He would always come out with some shaggy dog story or another, usually about his dad:

"My dad was in the sex pistols."
"My dad was a striker for Wrexham in the seventies."
"My dad was on the balcony at the Iranian embassy siege."

He once came into school one morning, and boasted about how he and his family had been to watch Wrestle Mania the previous night - in Houston, Texas! This wasn't squeezed in at the end of a two week holiday, oh no, they all flew out there to watch a three hour wrestling show then flew straight back the same day! Someone pointed out to him that as the show finished at 3am our time, he must have come to school straight from the airport - in his uniform!

My favourite was the time he knocked on my door very early on a Sunday morning, dressed in his (dad's) best clothes. He says, with perfect dead pan delivery "I won the lottery last night!" I laughed and closed the door on him.
About a minute later he knocks again: "Can I borrow a fiver for the bus?". *SLAM*

He also used to say he had a massive cock, that actually turned out to be true.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:43, 2 replies)
i don't lie... sort of :D
i don't exactly lie, but i do stitch together elements of things that HAVE happened to me, into one big story that isn't 100% true. makes for a more fun, convincing story.

kinda do it to see what people will believe, and quite happily admit to it being nonsense if challenged. guess i just get bored easily.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:42, 1 reply)
SAS etc
Heh, what is it about a particular kind of guy, who, when I mention I come from Hereford, have to give me a knowing wink and then start dropping hints that they were/are in the SAS (hmm, despite working in an office now...and looking like mr muscle??) Honestly, I get this loads!

It's a bit sad....

However, the best pathological liar was my mad gypsy granny - she always came out with some corkers - not sure if it was the barley wine with gin chasers she downed 24/7 or she was truly barking, but my favourite of all time was when she declared she'd fallen over someone's doorstep on the way back from T3sc0, her eyeball had fallen out, and upon replacing it, she got all grit in it, and couldn't see properly any more...

I still have nightmares...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:40, Reply)
Your baby is gorgeous
You must be so proud...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:39, 1 reply)
I love you...

Of course I love you...

and I'll respect you in the morning...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:38, 4 replies)
Liars I have known (and the lies they have told)
At my secondary school claimed to have won a competition to meet Adam Ant. Now the early 1990's were not a time where Adam Ant was a popular pop artiste, this being the age of 'Madchester', so the general consensus of my year was that it was a bit hilarious. She later confessed to be a lie after weeks of tuneless renditions of 'Prince Charming' had been sung in her general direction

Another girl at my school who said she'd taken 15 E's when infact she's just eaten a packet of Skittles

A girl in my sixth form who claimed to be friends with popular ex-WWF (now WWE) star Bret 'The Hitman' Hart (who himself was a liar in a way seeing as I haven't heard of him doing any contract killings)

My step-dad string my poor Nan along for years by saying he was a cousin of Rowan Atkinson (he only managed to fool me for a while due to the fact he's very Mr Bean like and has the same surname)

The American on a messageboard I visited who was revealed to have made up a fake dead brother.

I could tell stories about my Auntie but as her lies are technically delusions due to her mental condition it's probably as tasteful as a sticker in Heat magazine...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:32, Reply)
I believe you
Oh and by the way Frank, I am your Father
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:28, Reply)
I had a friend called Laurence at high school
For years and years he used to come out with the mostly unbelievable shite. His lies were frequent but of the kind that are almost believable, but not quite. things like, he told me once that he and his brother had stolen a load of heavy duty lights from a train depot and he was selling them on at £200 each to buy some DJ gear. Bollocks I thought, but humoured him anyway. If he'd have been the sort of wannabe badassed kid at highschool who never turned up, then I might have believed him. But he was a scrawny little geeky looking chap who didn't have many friends and was rubbish at PE.

One day he tells me he'd bought a magnum. Finally I piped up, "bollocks you have. You're fucking 16 and they're illegal."

He started protesting that it was true, and like most pathological liars, was entirely sketchy about the details. "I bought it off a mate" he claimed, knowing full well that I wasn't going to go chasing up his friends, asking them if any of them had sold him a handgun.

Well imagine my surprise when a few weeks later he turns up at my house with, yes, a fucking magnum tucked into his belt. A real one too, I inspected it.

I was dumbstruck. He started waving it around going "I fucking told you!", before tucking it back in his belt and fucking off up to the woods near my house. Moments later, the distinct sound of gunfire could heard emanating from beyond the trees.

So the moral of this story is, don't not believe everything you hear.

I bet the little fucker is a DJ now too...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:24, 3 replies)
I am a liar... honest!
I work in IT and therefore am a complete liar. Most of my CV is twaddle I don't really know how to do or what it means. However I have now kept this up for 5 years and I'm still going strong.
There is a game I do like to play called the Liar game. You need two people and a crowded pub. The aim of the game is to spread a bigger lie than your opponent. The bigger the lie the better, but don't get caught out or your out of the game.

Length? About 16 inches.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:19, Reply)
Back in 1999 I worked in a bar with a loveable rogue from Sheffield named Tom. Tom was the incredible bullshitting man; he just couldn’t say something without embellishing it with a lie. This made basic conversation almost impossible, as what Tom said was usually the complete opposite of the truth. He would tell you that he had seen TV programmes and films that he hadn’t, he would tell you he was working the next day when he wasn’t and in his 33 years on the planet he claimed to have served in the army, been a lifeguard, travelled the world, cycled the length of Britain, been a prominent criminal gang member and spent time in prison. He was also married with two children.

After 3 months of working with Tom I had learnt to take everything he said with a truckload of salt. One day he told me that he had been in Strangeways prison during the riots and had spent a few days up on the roof with the other jailbirds. “Of course you did Tom” was my immediate thought. Soon afterwards Tom and I parted company when I started another job and Tom became a private investigator (or so he told me down the pub, astronaut or secret agent are just as likely).

About a year later I was watching a news report about the 10-year anniversary of the Strangeways riots and my jaw dropped, I could quite clearly see in the archive footage a much younger Tom, standing on the roof, grinning like a loon, lobbing slates at the screws below.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:18, 1 reply)
Steve the Bullshitter
I was at uni with a chap called Steve. Nice guy, but he had an outrageous line in bullshit that used to wind the rest of us up chronic.

An (anti English football team) related pile of poo from around 1999.
"Scottish football fans are great... England were going to get sent home from the last Euro championships because of the fans."

Erm.. Steve... that was Euro 96... IN ENGLAND! You wanker..

"Oh, it must have been the world cup then.."

Er.. USA 1994... the one we didn't quality for?

But all this was turned on its head... for ages we'd been subjected to wildly fanciful stories of his sexual conquests and famous people he'd met around the world..
"Och.. I've met Mike Tyson.."

Yes Steve, of course... And I've met Jesus.

Until one day after much goading, he produces a picture of the said meeting..
Doh! Irrefutable proof..

So, if that's true.. what else is he *not* lying about?
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:12, 1 reply)
Favourite Quote
“A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies”

i said that first i did.
Lord Tennyson = thieving cunt
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:10, Reply)
Odd lies
I have my own unique brand of compulsive lying. It's all very strange. As a signed up member to the manic depression club, it happens during manic stages. It hasn't happened for many years. All of the interesting things that have happened in my life are true, all the tales I tell are true. I've been accused of lying about some things I've done but they're true. I only consciously lie about one small mundane thing, and while I'm doing it, I think - why on earth am I saying this? Alas...
For example: If asked to fetch milk from the shop, I will walk past the shop and think, I need to get milk, but then get home and say - "Oh, they're out of milk". "What about the shop next door?" "Out of milk also... bloody milk men..."

This is about the extent of it. I lie about going to the shops. The key thing is, I'm not covering my back, or doing it to not get my ear chewed off. I'm consciously not buying an item I'm asked to fetch, and then saying they don't stock it/have sold out.

That, along with the nights of not sleeping and sudden desire to train as a quantative financial analysist/become a careers advisor/insert unbelievably inane job role here, despite my actual interesting job, is the sole extent of the manic phases of my manic depression. I can't even pretend I'm a sea captain or decide I'm going to lead a cultural revolution. No, I lie about the local shop's stock level of lucozade and think about re-training as an actuary. That's mental illness for you.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:04, 2 replies)
Nuclear spuds.
The former Mr Droog:

Once refused to eat a jacket potato that I had microwaved for him. Rather than tell me that he didn't fancy a jacket potato, or perhaps that he preferred his potatoes when cooked in the oven, told me that, when microwaved, potatoes retain the 'gamma radiation' given off, and that ingesting these radioactive - presumably glowing green - spuds caused stomach cancer. My claim of "bollocks" was met with full on hissy rage at my not believing him, and therefore not trusting him etc etc etc ...

For the first six months of our relationship, he told me that he was half American on his dad's side, he had a dual nationality passport, the lot. He even referred to his mum as 'mom' (but everything else was spoken in a perfect English accent ... prick...). I found out after we split up that the only tenuous link he had to the yanks was that his auntie had married one and now lives in New Jersey.

He said he was part Scottish, his family had it's own tartan, and often wore a kilt. I believe he still maintains this to be true even to this day.

Told me his sister's then boyfriend (who is a lovely chap and who I have remained friends with to this day) was the best guitarist ever, and was so good and so competent at strumming right-handed that he decided, just for the hell of it, to learn how to play left-handed and became super über guitarist again, only left handed. He's an alright guitarist as it happens, but he's not a professional player by any means and has never played left-handed in his life.

Told me he once modeled underwear for Marks and Spencers. Any requests for proof / model shots etc were met with abupt changes of subject / random hissy rages at my not believing / trusting etc etc ...

He told me that the reason he lost his job at a computer shop was because he didn't like the shifts, and the reason he lost his job as a carpet salesman was because the new boss 'didn't like him'. He lost the first job when he was caught nicking a game, and the second when he was caught trying to smuggle a full roll of carpet out the back to give to his mates (his mates, by the way, were oblivious to his thievery, as he had told them that the carpet was lying around and they were going to chuck it out, and them taking it off their hands would be a favour to the company. Not so.)

I could go on and on. Quite how I managed to stick with this phenomenal bullshit artist for two whole years of my life is beyond me.

(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:03, Reply)
washing a priest's balls
Just for this week, every one of my stories is going to be absolutely true. It's up to you whether you believe them.

While living in Greece, I knew a semi-retired protestant priest who lived in relative poverty by the sea. He was not your average kind of priest: he had a box full of hard-core porn which he claimed a visitor had left there [I recall one called 'Ejacula' with Ron Jeremy as Quasimodo] and he liked a drink or two.

One night, he was returning from a party worse for wear and fell down the cliff near his shack. A French paraglider who lived with him at the time (don't ask) heard the screams and took him to hospital, where, three or four days later, I visited him.

He was badly bruised with a broken collar bone and some cracked ribs. He couldn't move his arms and - as is the standard in Greece - the nurses won't wash you or feed you unless you pay them directly. He hadn't washed since the fall and still had dried blood on him. He asked me to sponge him down.

I didn't mind doing this, but I avoided his holy genitals as you might expect. Unfortunately, he noticed and asked me if I would mind giving his tackle a once over. So it was that, without going into details, I soaped up a priest's knackers in an open ward and left him with a suspicious-looking smile on his face.

That's really my only claim to fame.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:01, Reply)
my old man was one
and Rachelswipe is too.

oh, you said liars....

hang on...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:59, 2 replies)
19 Year old G/F:Nutjob
Back in the day I met a gorgeous girl and we started going out in a proper meet the parents kind of way. The trouble started after a year or so.

I used to work for Lotus (no this is true) doing a bit of driving (delivering cars etc.)Tell her the day I got the job, "Oh my dad had a lotus"....ask dad while playing golf....erm nope.

She claimed to have been raped in France while on holiday, I was shocked and did the shoulder to cry on thing.....asked her sister...utter bollocks.

Told my mom that her dad was having an affair, the mums got on so my mom kinda of asked (I told her about the above)....again lies.

Now the best one !

Me "you still taking the pill, you are not missing days are you ?" can see how this one went.....

When I finished with her she did a Brittney and shaved all her hair off and got her nose pierced.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:57, 1 reply)
I must apologise
I in no way await , with baited breath, Frank Spencer's posts every week, and do not, upon reading the latest opus, get so excited that I work myself up into a spurting vesuvius frenzy of self man love. ever.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:52, Reply)
I know a guy who
usually has an endless string of bollocks coming out of his mouth.
He's pretty creative, but he watches alot of old-comedy-tv too, so I can't really tell what he's making up or not..
Alot of the time, he makes something up and credits someone else, which I think is really stupid, but he's an idiot anyway :)
Once, he heard the song "Hocus Pocus" and told me that the video involved Rik Mayall wearing a gnome costume.
He rarely steals ideas from anyone else, though.
He has a friend called Davy, who is a complete prick, and when they get together they're a nightmare.
Richard and I both play a game called Neverwinter Nights, and because Davy a) hates me and b) hates violence, Richard always tells him a load of crap about me going around slaughtering helpless old men.
He's a bit of a cunt, really.
Then he says that our history teacher threatens Davy with a ruler which is precariously perched on the projector (the teacher doesn't know what calibration is), saying it'll ping off and hit Davy.
This was a lie, as in reality it was Richard who said it, causing Davy to flee from the room clutching at his head.
Richard tried to pass it off as the teacher the next day, even though I was in the room when it actually happened.

In case you haven't all realised, Richard is a complete retard.

And I know another guy called Jake, who, upon hearing I had a snake for my birthday, proceded to tell me he'd bought a python off ebay. I had to play along to make him shut up, but needless to say he never got the python. He also says that he owes his dad thousands for buying motorbike gear, even though he's blatantly not old enough to ride a motorbike.
And then he said that there are rare plastic ducks at our local surf spot worth thousands which he got to pay off his dad.

And then there's Dan, but nothing he says is ever true, so I don't need to explain that one.

Five years of putting up with their crap is long enough, thanks.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:38, 5 replies)
He probably only wanted to fit in…
In this short time of the QOTW opening, we’ve already has multiple stories of the kind of nob-rots who insist that whatever you have, they have two of them, that are twice as good as yours, and cost half the price. God I hate them…and I know fucking hundreds of them (ok then, maybe about a dozen).

When I was at school, there was one of these such ball-aches called Nathan. In our circle of friends he was the well known first-class exponent of spouting unadulterated one-upmanship bollocks. Our tolerance for his bullshit would depend on the lies themselves.

His ‘Oh yeah, I’ve got a ZX Spectrum, a Commodore 64 AND and Amstrad…but I can’t buy any games ‘cos my dad uses them for work’, would be greeted with a tut and an ‘oh dear’; however, his ‘I’ve got a 50 speed mountain bike that cost 12 Grand and is made out of graphite so it’s so light that if I didn’t chain it up it would float away’ would be greeted with a unanimous ‘FFS’.

In the presence of a larger audience (particularly including girls), Nathan’s porkies would swell and mutate before our helpless ears until we were all devoured under his metaphorical quicksand of uberwank. He just couldn’t help himself.

We were about the age when we were being allowed to go to concerts unsupervised. Of course, if anybody amongst us was lucky enough to go to one, Nathan had been too, he had the best seats in the house, met the band afterwards, went to the aftershow party, where they signed all his records and he could help himself to the pick of the groupies etc etc blah blah. Of course, any specific details of the gig were a bit sketchy because he ‘was soooo pissed man!’.

A couple of mates and I had a few gigs lined up over a period of a month or so. We had saved up bloody hard for the tickets. Unlike Nathan, who was a heavy metal fan, we were big fans of the bands concerned (The Cure etc)and all looking forward to them. Suffice to say it was pretty much always the topic of conversation when we all got together.

Up steps Nathan with a pretend interest: ‘Oh yeah, I’m going to ALL of those gigs…’course it won’t be as good as when I was guest of honour at Live Aid etc etc’ (please note the irony that I am now lying about the actual lies I was told because I can’t specifically remember…Anyhoo).

Now here’s where he had crossed the line. I wish I had thought of the idea…but it was a mate of mine…with a sly wink in my direction he says to Nathan:

“Have you got tickets to the Jimi Hendrix gig next month?”

Nathan, using that almost Jedi-like sense that all Billy Bullshitters have, half realised something was wrong: “Ermmmm” he said. You could see the cogs going round in his head – Jimi Hendrix was dead wasn’t he? Was he? What could this lad be talking about? Why mention a gig? There’s gotta be something going on...”Ermmmm”

Sussing that I had a chance to blast the bastard wide open, I jumped in.

Me: “Oh I have. I reckon it’s gonna be the gig of the year…you know…considering the circumstances.”

At this point Nathan makes his choice, takes a deep breath and says:

“Ermmm no, not yet”

‘Fucksocks’ I thought to myself, hoping that he would fall straight into our trap and we could take the piss like the relentless bastards we were.

However, that didn’t stop us telling all of our friends and the rest of our class about how we ‘nearly’ exposed Nathan as the blag-happy, bollocks-spouting clag-nut that we all knew he was.

But happy fate was to deal us a hand.

The next morning we were all sat around with that knackered-out hush just before our first lesson when in bounds Nathan.

With a shit-eating grin, he proudly announces before a 30-strong class:

“Hey everybody! I was on the phone all night to the booking office…but I finally got my tickets to see Jimi Hendrix LIVE!!!”

Cue a stunned, mouth-open few seconds of silence….then:


At this point, Nathan starts to fill up. Bright red and sniffing, he desperately tries to dig his way out of the hole by declaring “Oh…yeah….I knew that…I had you all going, didn’t I? a-hurr-hurr”

But his game was up. I’d like to think that even now, if that twat thinks twice before spinning his fibs in future, then that day would have had something to do with it.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:30, 5 replies)
A question i can offer a decent answer to...

I shall now render you a tail about the greatest bullsh1tter that ever lived! a lord of verbal faeces, I shall call him Dev, for that is his name. now dev leads a relatively normal life as a van delivery driver for Banardos, but in his head, he is a legend.... for example

1) Dev is an expert snowboarder, proficent in stunts, off-piste the lot. he has the full set of avalanche gear etc etc etc.... Unfortunately he has never skied outside of a snowdome, and when i saw him boarding there, he couldn't turn right.
2) Dev used to paint Ferrari's, despite his he now works for £7 an hour driving vans... and sent his beetle to be painted by someone else
3) when i first mat the amazing dev, he told me he worked for a Jaguar garage in garforth. little did he know i live in garforth and there is no jaguar garage there, nor has there ever been.
4) whilst watching a program about the spanish armarda, i said "loads of them sank around the scottish coast, there are loads of wrecks up there" to which he replied "i know, i go deep sea wreck diving" to which his girlfriend replied "no you haven't dev, why do you always do this"
5) claimed to have a classic motorbike, despite having no licence and failing to know how to ride a bike when challenged. (a dumb lie to tell seeing as i work for a motorbike dealer)
6) lives with his parents, but claims to "own" the house, he just lets them live there, amazingly they lived there before he was born.
7) a few of us we discussing how fast we had driven, most people had driven about 110-125mph ish with darren winning at 138mph (he does love his car), but not dev, he had driven a Dodge Viper at 182mph on the M62 motorway. where did he get it from? "a mate lent me it for the weekend."
8) my old man is quite into flying plane (little propeller jobbies) and had a flying magazine on the side with the "utterly butterly" wing walking team on the cover, dev, looking at it for 5 minutes or so suddenly pipes up "i've done that, i used to be on the team" despite him being nearly 20st, know knowing where they were based etc etc etc

thare are hundred more tales from this model shagging, racecar driving, buffoon but these are to ones that i can remember right now, its not so much the scale of the lies, its the quantity, every time he opens his mouth lie spew forth like lava from an erupting volcano.

Length? not as long as his i'm sure.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:30, Reply)
My friend claimed that Harrison Ford had personally asked for her to play his daughter in the next Indiana Jones movie.
She also apparently went clubbing with Leonardo Di Caprio.

I didn't really believe a word of it at the time, but she was a great story teller so I didn't mind in the slightest.
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:29, 1 reply)
Disasterprone taught me A-Level English
That's what he told me, anyway...
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:27, 1 reply)
My Cousins dad...
Is the biggest billy bullsh**er in the known universe, his beauties include:

He was in the SAS (standard for any pathological liar!).

He shot the guy (who's name escapes me)that started black Sunday or whatever and that the IRA were after him.. not bad considering at the time of it he would have been 15.

He was Driving his tank in Berlin and the breaks went, forcing him to go round Berlin until it ran out of gas... Tanks stop as soon as you take your foot of the gas in real life but hey, why let that get in the way of a good story!

He met a guy whilst in the army out in Northern Ireland and after getting talking to this other soldier they realised they were long lost half-brothers ... 30 seconds later a hand-grenade went off and blew the guys head off - typical eh?.. that happens all the time, its a real bummer!

These are all great and there are so many more I could post given the time and inclination but his best ever was reserved for my cousin... he told him and my cousin belived for a long time that he was one of the Stormtroopers in Star Wars - He used to say "if you look theres one of them that bumps his head as he runs through the door.. thats me that is!"

Now if anyone read my last post about my cousins step-dad putting his arse crack hair in a rolly for us.. its the same guy!!!.. a pathological liar and a complete twunt to boot!
(, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 14:26, 1 reply)

This question is now closed.

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