When I was in year three I fancied this girl called Anna
We used to walk home together with our parents, one day I tried to impress Anna's mum by recaling the time that my dad had rescued everyone from a fire (even carrying the headteacher out of the burning rubble) that was in the school he teached at.

Needless to say I haddent fooled her, even by adding more factitious lies. Any time I see her now I rember the shame of telling such a porky!

Allthough it hasent stopped me from telling more, when will I learn.
Probably never.
( Gawain the oven safe flan tin willy bum fart poo, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:30, 1 reply)

I dont even know why I did it
Just seemed like a good idea at the time.
Some time back in my early teens a family member died.
I have to be honest and say I dont remember who, but for some reason I was given the day off school to attend the funeral with my parents.
At the piss up afterwards, me being the only youngster there I was left to my own devices.
So I wandered off and found myself standing looking over the fence into a school playing field seemingly far from home.
Someone wandered over and said hello, and i decided I was going to pretend to be french.
So there followed an interchange of me going 'Pardon et moi? whenever anyone spoke to me, and babbling away in my rather crude and rudimentary knowledge of the french language.
All went rather well really, I had a gaggle of awestruck teens hanging onto my every exotic word ( even the made up ones)
Even someone coming out of the social club and calling out to me to ask if I was ok didnt detract from the lie as I'd actually been christened with a french name.
However, this funeral, although in my young mind was happening far far from home, it was actually only a mere 4 or 5 miles away.
So when some older lad from my home town walked by and saw me and stopped to say hello, he was a bit confused by my blank response and my gallic babbling.
So I did the only sensible thing available and ran away, right back into the social club and hid in the toilets.
To this day I dont know if he gave me away or just wandered off confused.
And maybe theres a bunch of adults remembering the day they met an exotic french girl in an industrial docklands town ;)
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:24, Reply)

Haley Joel Osment / M. Night Shamalamadingdong
Bruce Willis is clearly not a ghost. But he does have my respect for having boned Demi Moore. And for resisting the incredible urge to break Ashton Kutcher's face.
(TheAmazingMeatMan ™ can't sing, but he's got soul, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:13, Reply)

Apparently PS3s are silver
years before the playstation 3 came out my friend (who went to private school) was insistent that one of his classmates already had a PS3 what he'd got from Japan apparently he had an Xbox 2 as well... :-S

but his way to try and convince me he was telling the truth was to describe it, and now i'm looking at my playstation 3 and thinking "what a funny looking silver rectangle"
(bamslower i like cheesecake..., Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:12, 1 reply)

Timpsons
According to a good friend of mine, they are a load of cobblers.
( DeadEyeDick, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:09, Reply)

The World's Greatest Imposter,
who was only pretending to be an imposter, is my favourite.
(Sod, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:04, Reply)

Unfathomable
I must have told a million 'porky pies' as a lad, but for some reason the one that sticks most in my mind is about Big Daddy the 'professional' wrestler, saviour of boring Saturday afternoons at your gran's in the early 80's. I know this is at least true for the 'Anglia' region (think spinning silver knight).

By going in on a technical slant, and referring to him by his real name of Shirley Crabtree I managed to convince some of my mates that he was better known to me as 'Uncle Shirley'. This lasted about a day I think until Nev P's Mum asked mine about it.

Fuck knows what I was thinking.
( DeadEyeDick, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:57, 1 reply)

Went to the Natural History Museum with the kids in the summer
My daughter now believes that she had a tail, like all humans do when they are born, and that it gets cut off before you leave the hospital. She's got a friend at school though who is absolutely full of it. Every other day she comes home and tells me more crap that this kid has come out with. Says he been filming with James Bond over Xmas and that he's in the latest Harry Potter too but you just can't see him cos he was at the back.
(Wagane, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:51, Reply)

Back in the day
I was probably about 5 and in the first class at school. Got an older brother who was two years older than me who was off sick for a day with some sort of fever/cold/vomit bug. Where's your brother? I was asked, well he was in a car crash, I says, and he went through the window and broke both his legs, I says. So the next day my brother is fine and back at school and turns out the rest of his class had spent the whole day making him a big get well card and bought loads of presents in for him. Got a bit of a telling off for that.

My mate Bullshit Dave however is a legend. Has played football, done karate, boxing etc etc etc for England under whatevers. His Bullshitting didn't stop after school though, I spent a few days with him a few years back and couldn't help pulling him up on his bullshit. I think I was the only one who ever did this as he used to get quite irate and tell me how unreasonable I was when he told me that he recommended Alicia Keyes to a record exec mate who then signed her, that he shot at his gf's ex, that he stabbed his gf's ex and got away with attempted murder. To be honest it would get too tiring pulling him up on his blatant bullshittery all the time and as it was essentially harmless so I used to just smile and say 'wow Dave, that's great'. He did end up getting 4 years for important a large amount of weed though, but the amount would go up and up and then it was kilo's of coke and then hundreds of kilos. One night he told me of some scam or other he was involved in where he had made a certain amount of money. That amount changed about 8 or 9 times throughout the whole evening, but when I reminded him of the different amount he said it was because they kept giving him more.
(Wagane, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:47, Reply)

I used to work with a guy called Ted,
He was in his 50's and was a good deal older than most of us. He was a great laugh and always had some preposterous story at hand for when we were bored waiting for a delivery. None of us believed a word of it. He knew it and we knew he knew it. He just liked making up these stories.

He joined the army when he was 17 and was stationed in West Berlin for 6 years, where he was involved in mass orgies in the barracks. Was transferred as liaison to the Australian army, where he was involved in combat in Vietnam. He worked in South America as a mercenary paid by the US to fight the drugs trade. He spent time in the Middle East when he was on the hippie trail to India. He escaped from Afghanistan when the Soviets invaded.

I haven't seen Ted for almost 5 years as I moved away and started a new job, but I received an call from an exited ex-work colleague a few months ago. One of the delivery drivers recognised Ted from the army and they spent a happy afternoon together reminiscing. This guy was also present at the West Berlin orgies, he'd also been part of the unit that ended up in Vietnam, he was the guy who put Ted in touch with the contact who got him work in S.America.

I have to admit, I preferred it when I though the stories were pure fantasy.
(Unit, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:28, Reply)

Mark "Chopper" Reed Quote
"Never let the truth get in the way of a good story."
( jakedamusss I understand, and dont care., Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:22, 1 reply)

Mmm chinny-reckon
I used to know a lad that did a paper round from the same shop as me. He reckoned his dad was a brain surgeon and his dad had given him an old brain which he kept in a box under his bed.
(Plumstix has been spying on you since, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:08, Reply)

"My Grandad has a Spitfire in his garage!"
So proclaimed a mate of mine for nigh on a month. This was gradually stripped bit by bit through sheer force of regular withering contempt.

"Not a whole one, the wings won't fit."

"No, there's no tail on it, that's why he keeps it in the garage."

"He's taking it apart to rebuild it."

"It's just the engine from a Spitfire."

"It's not in his garage any more..." Hang on there, why might that be?
"He's moved to a block of flats." The same block of flats, it later transpires, he has lived in for the past 20 years.

It takes one hell of a lot of conviction to be a true bullshitter. Some people just aren't cut out for it.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 13 Jan 2011, 23:01, 1 reply)

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
b3ta.com/questions/
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:45, 8 replies)

My best friend in primary school had a bazooka under his bed
He told me himself. I believed him.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:43, Reply)

Granddad and the hole in his skull
Grampy Smegington was a bit of a fibber. He told me that once an astronaut farted and the resulting increase in pressure inside his space suit (?) caused him to become detached from his air-tube, the only thing connecting him to the space shuttle. He went into orbit and sometimes his suit is visible to the naked eye as he passes over. Now that one's over, on to the grizzly shizzle.

He had a jaffa cake-sized portion of his skull missing (true, I felt it) which he claimed to be a war wound. However, my Dad told me he was discharged from the front as soon as the first nearby shell was fired. Why? Because it turned out there was a large hole in his skull making him sensitive to loud noises and causing him to pass out every time a gun was fired (cap guns aren't loud enough, I tried).

So where did Granddad's mystery hole come from? The acceptable story the family stuck to was that as a child in India (his parents were colonial types) the family home was attacked by guerilla fighters, and as his father fled with him in his arms a stray bullet just caught the top of his head but he survived.

The 'true' version is a little darker, but more likely. Apparently his mother was a severely paranoid schizophrenic, and, convinced he was an utterly evil baby and instrument of Satan, took a hunting rifle and shot him in the head while he slept.

She must have been in a state to miss an easy shot like that. What's the saying? 'Easy as shooting a sleeping baby in the head', or something.

But still to this day, I wonder if the 'real' version of events is actually true, I've only been told this by my Dad and he is, after all, his father's son.

Bit of a weird thing to invent for the sake of it though.
(Lord Smegington, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:38, 1 reply)

Mental illness + hardline religion = Grade A bullshit.
These things always start innocently enough don't they... Looking for a drummer many moons ago, auditioned one hairy, rhythmically-challenged protazoa after another when a very small, shy, speccy girl walks in. Well, she can't be any worse than the rest of them... let's try...

Well position me at an angle of 45.6 degrees if she wasn't a bloody amazing drummer! Somewhat taken by the novelty value of this tiny, meek drumming whirlwind the other guitarist and I immediately decided she was in.

We began to notice a few things... She had a very rare eye condition that meant she couldn't carry bits of her drum kit around in case her eyes burst. Apparently it also meant she couldn't go horse riding - presumably this was to add validity? It also explained, we were told, why she was so small, skinny and weak as she couldn't exercise for fear of going blind (steady now!). Hmm... well never mind, she might be right on that one so other guitarist starts lugging her drumkit around in his Micra.

Next up she stopped being able to pay for rehearsals as she was skint. Fair enough, we've all been there, we'll all chip in a little bit extra. Only thing is, by this point she'd got a job at the same company I was at, so I knew exactly how much she was earning.

By this point her meekness was thawing a little bit. Thawing into depression and the occasional bout of being anti-social. Not, however, anti-social enough to keep quiet about it to anyone within earshot. We had reached the point where working and muso-ing with someone means you spend a lot of time talking to them, therefore the more... ahem... challenging mythology starts to come out.

"Hey, A, why are you poking that limp salad around a plate, you're not veggie are you?"
"No, I'm Catholic. I can't eat meat on a Friday."*
"Wow... that's quite hard line. What about fish?"
"Oh nooooooooo, that's even worse! You can't eat fish on a Friday or you'll go to Hell!"
"O..K.."

Now, Catholics are known for many eccentric behaviours including eating fish on a Friday. This one is so well established that in my heavily Catholic current workplace we all look forward to Fishy Friday. Maybe it's some Polish sub-clause that no-one knew about.

Things got better though with the victimisation stories. Apparently everybody in her school - teachers included - hated her and made fun of her. Then it spread to everyone else in her life. Not only that, her sister and the people in the band are the only people she's ever been able to trust. o_O She was, in fact able to trust us enough to tell us that she was born with severe cerebral palsy that meant she couldn't move as a baby. It wasn't until her mother prayed for her that she was miraculously healed. The doctors couldn't explain it and she was a medial marvel, but because it happened in Poland no-one kept any records on it "because Poland is like that. They probably sold the data to the US or something."

Then we got into the full works - "I don't think I want to live any more. I'm going to kill myself."

Now... the first time anyone says this to you in all seriousness you tend to take it seriously - thus a one in the morning trip down to Tower Bridge with my wife on the phone to the police while we were driving trying to make sure A was scooped up before she did something silly. Various memebers of the band closing in on central London to try and reach her a phone call from the police. Oh shit! Why didn't we listen? Right, what have they got to say?

"We've picked her up, she says she's fine and had no intention of doing anything."

That was enough to curtail most musical endeavours for the forseeable future but not before one more gold plated lie and more stupid generosity on my part.

A is moving house and needs to take her pet guinea pig with her. It's a short bus ride through part of SE London. Apparently I need to drive down from the very fringe of north London to come and take her guinea pig as "the cold air of the bus will kill him."

A Guinea Pig. Descended from Andean cavies. That is to say it could happily live in the foothills of the Andes, yet a bus ride through Lewisham on a mild summery day would kill it.

I put the aircon on full blast for the duration.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:37, 2 replies)

Kwik-fit
Your car could be in flames and those fuckers would still trot out the line:

"Yeah your brake discs are corroded so we recommend replacing the whole lot. And pads. Oh and you need a new exhaust."

Lying scum.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:37, 3 replies)

It's only a small job, shouldn't take more than an hour
Cock.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:34, 1 reply)

A lad I went to school with claimed he'd fought in the Vietnam War, and would drop this into conversations as often as possible.
Yeah.

And if you dared to doubt him or say, e.g. "shut up, David" he'd get mortally offended and threaten to beat you up in all seriousness, macho posturing and all. Bit of a twat, he was.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:27, 2 replies)

Google 'thought'
I convinced my 9 year old last week when the computer keyboard was playing up and only working intermittently that the reason he'd seen someone using the pc earlier was that they'd developed a new service called 'google thought', similar to google voice search, but harnessing the power of brains.

I am holding the video of him attempting to use the power of his mind(in various different ways) into the google search box as a possible source of either income or bribery for a later date.

Although, thinking about it, the value will be nothing once google do develop this service in the next couple of years, so maybe I'll just put it on the internet now and try and get on rudetube with that skinny beardy twat they have presenting who pretends to be amused whilst spouting sub Dennis Norden wank in the links.
(badgermonkey007, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:24, 1 reply)

One night a week I work in a pub where I live
needless to say, you hear a lot of bullshit working behind a bar but we have one man who's bullshit rolls out a red carpet before him.

He goes by many names, but most people refer to him as 'bull-shit Kieth' or as i found out recently from people who worked with him previously 'the silver fox'
He is about 5'9 and very weedy looking, which adds to the humour when he tells me story's about how he beat up 4 hench dudes, or infiltrated a hell's angel hangout with a shotgun to get his motorbike back.
He claims he drove from Southampton back to Weymouth (my hometown)in 10 minutes on his bike, not only that, but on the way back a lorry jackknives in front of him, but he manages to slide under it on the side of the bike then miraculously carry on riding without falling off.
Basically the list of shit is endless, and always a good chuckle among the staff (with exception to his girlfriend who works there!)
he always gives you way too much eye contact as if trying to convince you, and touches his face/scratches his nose/ looks up and to the left a lot, however I sometimes feel that he actually believes himself, like he has concocted a memory bank of false memories or something, like he cant help but lie, but doesnt know he's doing it.
Anyway, hats off to 'Bull-shit Kieth' master of many lies.
( Glovington, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:24, Reply)

Bullshit Reed
At school we had a teacher, well, that might be stretching it a bit too far; we actually had an hour of bullshit fed to us once a week under the guise of "woodwork" by a bearded twat.
We'll call him Mr. Reed, as this was his name.
On one occassion, having served in the Navy (he hadn't), a large gas cylinder weighing around 2 tonnes, aparently, was about to explode and no-one knew what to do, so despite the fact he was bare chested at the time and the cylinder was white hot, he picked it up and threw it overboard saving the entire crew.
He also taught Paul Daniels how to perform magic, and invented many tricks just for his show. In actual fact, he WAS a magician of sorts. He used to play the holiday camps at weekends, so that one had an air of belivability about it.
He also designed the Audi Quattro (and built the first 'prototype').
It still astounds me that he thought any of us kids would believe him. Even at that age (around 14) we realised that if half of what he said was true, he wouldn't be in some rural comprehensive teaching us twats.
Of course, he was imaginatively known as "Bullshit Reed".
(dchurch bah, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:16, Reply)

8 bit fibs
A chap I went to primary school with called Scot (for that was his name), made up amongst many other things the following porky:

Apparently he had an 'arcade chair' for his Amstrad CPC 464 which when he plugged it into his joystick socket worked as a fully functioning moving cabinet style chair for games such as 'Outrun'.

I somewhat doubted this, but let it go until about 5 years later when he led a concerted bullying campaign against me, mostly based on the fact that I was small, cheeky and ginger. At this point I unleashed the power of his earlier lies (at this point we'd started moving onto SNES's and he was exposed for the twat that he clearly was. He ended up having to move schools.

Don't mess with teh small, cheeky gingers.
(badgermonkey007, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:16, Reply)

Expert Machine Driver
I'm a Civil Engineer and was on a site with a contractor who claimed he could do everything. He apparently used to be an accounts manager before he was sacked for being too ambitious and was just explaining how he had a Masters in Computer Science when a woman on a Horse rhode past and he actually said the words "I used to break Horses in for a guy around here". I squirted a bit of wee and laughed my tits off! Every time I saw him I kept expecting and Uncle Rico "I can throw a football over those Mountains" moment.
(Mattyla "will make you moist" at, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 22:05, Reply)

Aha, I forgot this guy.
An unreformed 70s British Leyland worker who had, by tenacity of never being spotted NOT doing work, elevated up the Rover/Land Rover manufacturing ladder just because after a number of years in service and a fake bad back which lasted for 8 months and 30 days at a time (9 months and you were called in for a compulsory examination by the comapny doctor) would then grudgingly go back into work for 3 months until he could once again claim a 8mth 30 days 'holiday'.

As he couldn't do track work he was moved into engineering despite having nothing other than practical assembly skills but also a remarkable ability to steal anything you needed from trackside for use on a prototype vehicle, he was invited to join our team.

So in our capacity we had M. as a co-engineer for fixing and updating prototype fleet vehicles. Sometimes it would be just one or two cars, sometimes a whole series (like the Press Cars for example). So M. would vanish for half a day, driving from JLR Engineering to LR at Gaydon and back, with a laptop with the intention of updating a vehicle.

Day 1 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, the laptop died and I didn't have a power lead'
Day 2 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, didn't have the diagnostic lead with me'
Day 3 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, someone else had the CAN card vehicle interface'
Day 4 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, The software files weren't on the computer'
Day 5 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, vehicle had a flat battery so couldn't program it'
Day 6 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, got the software files but they were corrupt'
Day 7 - Came back, 'Couldn't do the job, got the laptop, fully charged, got the software, the interface card, the diagnostic lead, the car had a good battery on it. I forgot my glasses and couldn't read the laptop screen.'

BUT! when a big fleet upgrade was needed and there was a whiff of overtime in the air, all of a sudden 'unsupervised weekend work' he'd be over it like a rash, claiming the neccessarry use of a fleet vehicle and fuel card instead of using his own car. Come Monday Morning it was all 'yeah, I did 16-hour shifts so at time and a half means I don't have to come into work all this week, see you next monday'.

BUT!! (2) at least when your task was to get a car back on the road after someone from Marketing put diesel in a petrol V8 and you needed a foursome of oxygen sensors, he would fuck off and mysteriously turn up a couple of hours later with a bag full of zirconia devices and a refreshing lack of shipping paperwork.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Thu 13 Jan 2011, 21:48, Reply)

Darth Vader
betrayed and murdered your father
(Vigilante Man weeps because you're stupid., Thu 13 Jan 2011, 21:32, Reply)

Mental illness is a terrible thing
I've got the usual suspects: the mate at school who liked to make stuff up about the old 8/16 bit games we were into, and the mate-of-a-mate who's an absolute expert through personal experience in whatever we're talking about...

But my winner is the loon that another mate married (good Lord how the time flies) about a decade back. Not just any loon, a now famous bigamist porn star loon. Now the papers (like myself just there) tend to focus on the lurid sexy details, as it sells, only hinting at the mindfuck bullshit she told everyone to be the centre of attention. Off the top of my head, I recall:

The fake pregnancies.
Having cancer.
Deaths of close family members.
Playing rugby for the England under somethingorothers (in front of people who actually played at quite a high youth level and knew otherwise)
Playing tenpin bowling for the England under somethingorothers (in front of *many* people who actually played at quite a high youth level and knew otherwise)
Oh and the whole "forsaking all others until death us do part" thing. It's still a point of personal pride that I didn't shag her when asked, moral fibre ftw!

No apologies for the content of this post, as she messed my mates life up good and proper at the time and then went on TV to bullshit about it all over again... No apologies for length either, it's a statistical probability that she's had longer.
(Twangy Rubber, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 21:31, 2 replies)

We all know a git who lies for a hobby
I worked with a man, let's call him Alan.

Alan had renal cancer. Alan had chemotherapy. Alan's kidneys miraculously rengerate to their previously healthy state. Alan is now an international medical case study.

Alan also doesnt drink, no, not with renal cancer. Alan doesnt drink and fall infront of cars. Alan doesnt gamble his wages on horses that dont yet know they are dog food.

Alan isnt a bully, a liar and a fantasist

Alan didnt like me calling him out, calling him a liar and a bully

Alan doesn't work at my work now.

I made a lot of friends that week
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 21:17, Reply)