Sort of on topic...
I was alone in the office and as such grabbed the phone when it rang.

It was a company that does PAT testing on electrical equipment, and the conversation went thus:

"Hello, I'm calling from random company name PAT testing...could you read the label on the nearest electrical plug for me please?"
snee: "This is a wireless office, we have no plugs..."
*Long pause*
"Oh..ok, thank you."
snee: *snigger*
( snee held his breath since, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 9:57, 3 replies)

Have a pearoast
A guy I went to college with used to brag that he had a one carat diamond left to him by his gran. Now, I knew at the time that his gran, although as mad as a bag of wire-hangers, was still alive and well. I also knew that both his parents were blind and were truly impoverished. No heating except for sitting around the oven door sort of poverty. His parents would certainly not be as skint as they were if there was a one-carat diamond kicking about that could be sold on.

Anyway, we got sick of his prattling on and told him to put his money where his mouth was sort of thing and provide proof, knowing full well that he couldn't.

Well, the next day he turned up at college and fished out a small blue velvet purse. He emptied it into his hand. If it was indeed a diamond, it would be more like a 60-carats. It was about the size of an almond and not particularly shiny. I was closest and I could clearly see it wasn't a diamond. It was more like a drop-crystal off of a light fitting. He brandished it loosely before slipping it back into the pouch so nobody got a proper look anyway.
I pointed out that it smelt of countryside somewhat and he flashed it about some more.

"Look see, a one-carat diamond" he protested.
Anyway, the subject changed as we all took it as bollocks anyway.

Later that afternoon we were leaving college and diamond-guy, me and another kid were just crossing the road, when someone pushed him to the floor and grabbed the purse from his pocket before running off. We helped him to his feet and I was bursting, trying to contain my merriment when the kid that pushed him over came back.

"This isn't a diamond, it's a piece of plastic off a lampshade you lying cunt" and bolstered his argument by pushing it into diamond-guy's mouth and cuffing him under the chin to shut his trap and stop him spitting it out. He then pissed off again.

I had to wander off to sit in the bus shelter before I fell over laughing when diamond-guy started spluttering and the other kid had to punch him on the back to stop him choking.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 9:53, 1 reply)

Once
I told my ex missis that men had periods. I told her that obviously there was no blood but for one week a month men got really moody as their hormone levels soared and that they were also hornier than normal just afterwards. She believed me for all of about the 5 minutes it took to call her mum.
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 9:37, 2 replies)

I'm going to suggest that a good portion of the answers here will qualify as answers themselves.
It's like a neverending cycle of lies with you lot.
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 9:24, 5 replies)

This statement
is actually a lie.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 9:03, 2 replies)

My only answer ever to make the news letter. A complete tissue of lies.
No one wants to upset a blind man
Was at a cousin's wedding reception in Newquay when I noticed there was another wedding recepion in the hotel next door...a cunning plan started to hatch in my slightly inebriated mind. I have an uncle who's a bit blind, by a bit blind I mean dark glasses, white stick, doesn't know what sunlight looks like blind, anyway he's also a bit of a laugh. So I told him what I had in mind, and he lent me said glasses and stick.

Cue me walking down the line of bride, groom and family in the hotel next door, doing the shaking hand bit, and telling them what a lovely ceremony it had been. The beauty of it was I could see them all pointing at me and mouthing, "who's he" getting shrugs in reply that sort of said "don't know, but he's blind leave him alone". Anyway a very amusing half hour or so followed, with me going up to random people, getting them to get me a drink, telling them what a lovely service I thought it had been, and what a lovely girl the bride is, known her since she was a little girl don't you know, all the time seeing the words, "who's he" mouthed to the people around, and those same shrugs in answer. I then asked the DJ to play a Stevie Wonder tune, and stood in the middle of the empty dance floor doing my best Stevie Wonder playing the piano impression. Half way through the tune I had to do a runner before I did my best roll round on the floor laughing impression.

Still the funniest thing I've ever done.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 9:01, 2 replies)

Chinese delicacies
My mate Zdenek (Dennis) used to run the Tudor club in town with his sister Vendula (Wendy - or 'Vodka Vendy' as we called her).

I wandered in one evening and propped myself up at the bar watching Wendy browse the local (just over the road) Chinese takeaway menu.

"snee, I really don't know what to order." she said to me as she poured me another beer. I swear I almost heard my bullshit switch flick open as I replied:

"Well, have you ever tried deep fried chicken lips? they're delicious..." I said, perfectly straight faced.

Wendy looked through the menu, "I don't see them." she said dubiously.

"Oh, they're quite a delicacy - you have to ask for them." I came straight back with.

"Ok," she said "watch the bar while I pop over and order please?"

"Of course." I smiled as she ran out the door.

Not 30 seconds later she was back "YOU BASTARD!" she said, her face crimson red "They're all laughing at me over there now!"

Of course, so was I and the other 20 or so people in the bar.

My arm hurt for a while though - she's got one hell of a punch on her.
( snee held his breath since, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 8:31, Reply)

Maps? what do THEY know?
So, it was a typical weekend - I'd gone to meet some mates in the charming area that is Romford*, taking with me a couple of grammes of pretty good speed - couple of lines, few beers and I was in total bullshit mode - eyes like saucers, mouth moving like a badly dubbed foreign film - so, picture the scene:

We (about 12 or so of us) were in some dive of a pub trying to pull the classy Essex women (as a sign of how fucked up we were, none of us could get off with those paragons of virtue), and Bob (not his name - too far back to remember what it was now, so Bob will do) started mumbling on about the Russians and how the UK would be annihilated if it came to a nuclear strike.

In my amphetamine fuelled haze I found myself coherently (to myself anyway) explaining that Russia was actually on the South Pole and that maps were just propaganda to scaremonger. I kept this up for a few different pubs and over the period of a few hours, totally convinced this guy I was right (it was Romford ok?) - so much so that a few weeks later I got a call from my mate Kev to tell me that Bob was still trying to convince people of my 'theory'

So, a bit rubbish really, but I convinced an Essex boy that penguins were Russian really...

*This was the weekend when, recovering on the Sunday in a quiet pub, Kev laid an egg in some random guy's paper while he was in the loo - watching him come back to his table, open the paper up and have a large lager log fall onto his lap was priceless...
( snee held his breath since, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 8:24, Reply)

Dutiful Ducks
My ex and I were walking past a the local lake, she asked me if I knew how deep the water was. I told her I was certain it was very shallow because pointing to some waterfowl swimming on it I said "As you can see, it only comes half way up those ducks".....It took her about two hours before the penny finally dropped.
(Mackeson_drinker, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 7:45, Reply)

My mate's cousin...
....let's call him Dave (for his name was Tom), has become legendary for his bullshit after a visit he paid in 2002. Dave was a Texan who was loose with the truth in his retelling of past stories and in his assessment of his present situations. Maybe he thought us doe-eyed young Irish bucks would lap up his tales of drinking prowess and his fast life of crime in the States, but our doubts about him had crept in within minutes of meeting the guy.

Examples of his lies:

"Hey Dave, how many beers have you had?"

"Eh, um, 38"......(he had bought 12 and drank about 8......we were all 17)

2 minutes later

"Hey Dave, how many beers have you had?"

"97" (ninety-frickin'-seven he says!.....what a ludicrous person)

On retelling a story of one of his "buddies" back home:

"Yeah, he drank, like 2 bottles of nearly 200 proof absinthe in ten minutes, that's like nearly 100 percent alcohol i suppose. He fuckin' died for fifteen minutes that night, but made it to school the next day"

Dave, on one of his run-ins with the law:

"The cop's were giving us shit, so I got all up in the guy's face until he pulled his gun on me and we just ran.....the cop shot me in the back of the leg with a (says calibre of gun), i suppose it's about as powerful as a magnum"

"Hey Dave, let me see your scar?"

"Yeah, um, I don't know if there was a scar, but the bullet went through my calf and exited out my shin" (he never did say what happened afterwards)

After he got through about 11 tins, he started a fight with the owner of the house we were drinking in, got sick, sort of cried a bit and had to be taken home to his cousin's. Ahh bless!
(El_diablo_blanco, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 7:44, Reply)

Bonus Story
I was waiting tables at The Inn At Morro Bay, our big landmark Morro Rock (yeah it's a pretty big rock) was visible from our window.
It was summer time so fog often prevented the tourists from viewing the rock, and I liked telling them that they wouldn't want to see it right now anyway because it was being cleaned and it was all covered with scaffolding (this is a peregrine falcon rookery, not a statue).

So one evening I repeat this line to a couple and the guy says "Really?"
His date's eyes get big, she starts laughing and she says "Do it again! Do it again! He's been doing that to me ALL DAY LONG!"
(Smoked Oysters Yes, magick helmet! And I will give you a sample!, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 6:28, Reply)

Teasing one's GF
I used to be in the habit of passing off "fun facts" on the women in my life. This led to in instance in which a girlfriend would not believe a tidbit which I earnestly believed to be true.

So we're in a zoo looking at the capybara and she asks what makes a rodent a rodent, to which I reply that they have retractable incisors (!). This is something that I thought that I remembered reading as a child (in a book about hamsters) so I thought that I was telling the truth but she thought that I was bullshitting her because she had developed a nose for it.

Bonus: it took weeks to resolve this as this was before we knew the glory of the interwebs.
(Smoked Oysters Yes, magick helmet! And I will give you a sample!, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 6:15, 1 reply)

Oh my God! It's true!?
It's terrible when a known bullshitter turns out to be totally on the level.

Will told the most incredible stories about his times in Vietnam as a marine - 20' tall pot plants everywhere; hiding in the jungle on recon missions; serving at the embassy, thus knowing many dignitaries, etc.

He told stories of his hunting exploits, a fair topic for exaggeration -- but his stories put Field & Stream to shame. All his shots hit; every hunt bagged record and trophy game; etc.

Will's prowess with the ladies was also the stuff of legends, of course, as told by himself. Princesses, fashion models, a constant stream of local beauties (who we never saw).

All this was just considered part and parcel of being Will's friend -- he was a decent guy other than his tendency to bullshit, and his stories were interesting.

Then the world turned upside-down. Will returned from a trip overseas claiming to have found record specimens of rare shells, and discovered a new species. Another local diver, having heard one to many stories of Will's exploits, called him out, in front of witnesses.

Rather than making excuses, Will led us to his apartment, someplace we'd never been. In the spare bedroom was a wall of slid-out steel drawer cabinets, chuck full of the best shell collection you'll ever see outside a museum, including the specimens in question, and enough reference books to satisfy any expert.

So the question is, what about the rest of his exploits? Is our friend a true hero and rennaisance man, or was it just lucky that he was called to deliver on that area of expertise?
(danalan Pretty good, for an amateur., Fri 14 Jan 2011, 5:59, 2 replies)

I'm a geek and specialise in Lotus Domino... A Domino consultant
So... I was sitting at a bar in New York, drunk on beer and whisky chasers and the cute lady behind the bar asks me. "So whadda you do Simon?"

"I'm a Domino Consultant" say I, with the complete sincerity that comes with speaking the truth.

"What, like the game?" she replies, unable to hear the capital D through my rich English tones.

"Yep!" I lie, seizing the moment.

"No really, they have consultants on dominos?" she asks, amazed.

"Not just dominos sweetheard, all pub games, but my speciality is dominos. I travel the world studying the various rules and sell my knowledge in the form of consultancy to all the major games making companies"

"Naaaah, your shittin' me she says" with that little bit of uncertainty that tells em I have already almost won.

So out comes the trump card, I pull out my business card with "Domino Consultant" on it.

"Wow Gee!" she exclaims... "Hey George, this guy over here travels the world studying pub games!"

I end up at a table with 10 yanks all asking me about strange wierd pub games, on which subject I hold forth for the rest of the evening cos us Brits have many strange and wierd pub games to talk about.

S
( simbosan Hello you cunt, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 5:49, Reply)

I swear I didn't kill my daughter and cover it up.
Honest.
(Dr. G. P. McCann desperately needs a babysitter, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 5:09, 2 replies)

Well known urban myth but I heard it first
A mate of mine claims to have an ex-RAF friend who used to work on the Royal Flight. One of his jobs was servicing the bogs, from which, over time, he acquired a freeze-dried collection of royal turds. These he displays on a wooden board, each turd labelled with its owner's name (Queen Mum, Charles etc). I'm sceptical.
(mudskipper, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 5:07, Reply)

I'm not exceptionally proud of this (may be bullshit in itself)
But The Housemate and I have just spent a good few hours bullshitting our friend, the Frog.

The Frog, as his nickname implies, is French. He's a great lad, in his early twenties. He's very well educated, speaks impeccable English and German, and is in no way smelly, rude, or a cheese-eating surrender monkey. Well, he might like cheese, but I digress. He's lived in several European countries and Australia, before ending up in Yorkshire because he was headhunted by a company. However, in two days he is to leave our lovely climes to go live in That London, after being headhunted by a much more prestigious company. The Frog was telling us how nervous he was about this, as, despite having lived in many places throughout his life, he's never lived anywhere quite as big as London.

The Housemate and I (who are both Proper Yorkshire, born and bred, and have probably visited London a handful of times between us), have just spent four hours telling him all about how everyone in London speaks in rhyming slang, and teaching him it. We made about half of it up. He took notes, and fully intends to learn it all before he leaves.

Merde.
(BelladonnaAnodyne Melissa's gonna wet herself, I swear..., Fri 14 Jan 2011, 4:44, 2 replies)

Walter Mitty.
www.imdb.com/title/tt0039808/
That bastard told ALL the tall ones!
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 14 Jan 2011, 3:27, 1 reply)

Blowjob based lies
I have been friends with a lovely guy, W, since starting at secondary school. He'll do anything for you until someone cooler comes along, at which point he will stab you repeatedly in the back for kicks.
I think you can work out what this guy, aged about 17, spent most of his day thinking about when you look at his lies.
A classic was, while we sat and chatted in a pub, he came back from the toilet having just "got a cheeky blowjob". Having had enough of his lies so pressed for details.
"She was just in one of the cubicles, so I undid my belt and she sucked it."
"If I go to the toilets now will she still be there?"
He starts getting angry. "No, she swallowed and left before me." Knowing from experiance that pressing his lies will ruin a good night we leave it.

This social black-mail meant that we left many of his lies standing. These include:
Getting a blowjob on a ferry from a group of horny convent school girls.
Buying a gun from a man in out town that turned out to be my friends older brother who has never even seen an RL gun.
Having a 4x1 metre roll of LSD Tabs, we shouldn't try them incase we had a bad trip.
He carried £100,000 strapped to his body, to France, for his Dad's company and got a 1% kickback.
While he was training at Raymond Blanc's 4 Seasons (which he did), he regularly got pissed with "Ray" after service and was too good to train there so Ray "hooked him up" with a better job in France for the ski season.
Now he's in France and has hired a car despite not having a driving license, because "the French are well safe".
(Daveth Koresh is jesus, but welsh, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 2:52, Reply)

Not proud of this little white lie.....
A long time ago I was dating this guy from Canada. He was sweet but just extremely thick. I didn't have it in me to cut off things in person so I pretended I was a family member and told him in an e-mail I was dead. He believed it.

My latest lie...I tell people I don't know when my actual birthday is. And my little nephew asks me how old I am and I respond by telling him I'm 16 years old. I just had a birthday and I still tell him I'm 16 years old. Not sure how long that will last, he's a smart lad you see. Maybe I should tell him I have a time machine in my house or access to the fountain of youth. One or the other!
(ButacuP As yoooo wish!!, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 2:14, 2 replies)

A friend of mine claimed to have their labia pierced.
This friend is a man.
(Irregular Joe last touched ham on, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 1:58, 7 replies)

Just as you think you've exhausted the possibilities..another one come up.
Myself and my brother used to know, by reputation and through people my dad knew at the pub, a guy called A. The problem with A is he was 80% trufax, 20% bullshit.

A. was a jobbing electrician but also a once-upon-a-time roadie for Motorhead.

A. was a man who would put in a couple of extra sockets for you but would tell you about his time making spy bugs for MI5.

A. was organised enough to run a pirate radio station (he said) but would also wire his kettle leads into the socket using matchsticks to hold the bare wires in.

Herein I find the dichotomy. Fed on his matrix of truths and lies I learned to imagine I could do things beyond the norm if only I took a step out into a brave new world.

A. paid me to drive him to Bruntingthorpe for a project which turned out to be real, but also, A. told me the reason I had mains hum on a record deck was 'connection impedence' when it was actually zero earthing.

A. told me the A-level electronic systems project I'd shown him the plan for would fail because of phase shift problems when it was an analogue switch issue and not a clocked system.

A. denigrated me in front of mixed company that I'd never be able to detect a radio bug he'd installed (I had a scanner at the time) because of sideband suppression. He never installed one so I didn't rise to the challenge of trying to find something that didn't exist. But then he sold me a starburst semi-acoustic guitar body and neck for £25 and it was only my lack of doing anything about it that meant it never got used.

Meh. I think on the whole I benefitted from the relationship.

But by Christ, whenever you see him he's always just been involved in telecomunications projects for the Olympics and has a VOIP phone in his house which connects anywhere in the world to anywhere else in the world and wirelessly but....

Shit, maybe he's less of a bullshitter than he used to be. But statistically it can't ALL be true. Can it?
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Fri 14 Jan 2011, 1:36, 1 reply)

I used to work in the zoo
One of my co-workers, a legend called Richie, managed to convince another co-worker called Crazy Sarah (who could do with a whole QoTW to herself) that the Baby elephant had died... Because it drank too much water and its face fell off. However its parents were not too upset because a Japanese scientist had invented a special Elephant sized Playstation for them to play on. Apparantly the Elephants love rugby games but the Lions prefer Football games.

Another one of his stories she believed was all the animals had been replaced with robots overnight. When at first she didn't believe this he pointed out how much her dog's pet-food cost and to multiply this by every animal - the food bills were too much so the animals had been secretly replaced with hollywood robots.
(FondaAccord, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 1:35, Reply)

Not
guilty.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:56, 1 reply)

Full O' Shit George
George was the trolley boy at the local co-op, a friend of mine used to work with him. The lies he told were absolutely legendary.

For starters, he used to be best mates with Dani Filth of the terrible rock band Cradle Of Filth. During the week he would often find himself as a roadie on tour but would always, regardless of the location of the gig, be home in time for his weekend trolley shift.

He also had a daughter called Amber, who was in full custody of his oft-suicidal ex girlfriend. One day my friend had asked "how's amber?" to which George replied "who?" only to, minutes later, remember his daughter was called Amber and that was the Amber she was obviously referring to.

My personal favourite was the trip home he'd made through the park. Now, he'd been visiting a friend of his who was very keen on swords and those kind of ornaments, so he'd brought his brand new samurai sword along, so it was only lucky when he was heading home and was set upond by a gang of ruffians that he brandished his ornamental sword and stabbed several of them - even shorning many of them of various limbs - but it was okay, he had a lawyer who was really good and had got him off on a self defence plea.

Last I saw of George he was wandering the town with this heroin addict looking girl. Bless 'im.
(baldylocks, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:52, Reply)

The other night
Some friends and I went out to a local bar for their cheap pizza and beer Wednesday. A bit later on in the night, an acquaintance of ours showed up with his new squeeze - a skinny 19 year old who appeared to have applied her makeup and fake tan with a bricklayer's trowel. The sort of person you see hordes of lined up outside "trendy" clubs, taking photo after identical pouting photo to post on Facebook. He parked her at our table and then promptly buggered off outside to have a smoke.

The poor girl seemed a bit intimidated at being abandoned at a table with four drunken men she didn't know, so one friend offered her a slice of his (eggplant and feta) pizza to break the ice. As she was eating it, another friend casually asked how she was enjoying the sardine pizza.

"Sardine? I thought it was eggplant?"

"Oh no, they've got a special way of preparing it here. Doesn't end up tasting much like fish, but it's delicious."

"Really?"

She looked around the table for confirmation. We all nodded gravely. The third friend chimed in:

"Yeah, it's the olive oil they use. It's... Italian, you know."

She visibly brightened. "Oh, Italian! That explains it! Wow! I never knew you could do this with sardines!"

Later on in the night, she asked the manager if they were hiring waitresses, and he told her to drop off a CV. I hope she gets the job, and starts recommending the amazing sardine pizza to customers.
(oball needs Satan more than he needs me, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:47, Reply)

Way back in 1994...
...I was a contestant on the Channel 4 show 'Gamesmaster' (my uncle owned the production company, and got me on the show). The challenge was to complete the first level of Sonic and Knuckes (which wasn't released until a year later) in the quickest time. I was playing against David Seaman, and I scored a time of something like 1:07, while David lost a life, meaning I won by default.

Unfortunately, the golden joystick I won was destroyed in a house fire, but I still have proof. My dad recorded it on Sky+
(The Entity Remembered his login details on, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:47, Reply)

Not sure what prompted it
but one day I went to pick my kids up from day care and the woman at the front desk told me that Miss Shonta wanted to have a word with me. As this usually meant that my son had done something unacceptable, I walked back with some trepidation.

Miss Shonta was a very large Carribean woman with deep black skin and a booming voice. When I entered she turned, inspected me for a moment, then said, "I just wanted to make sure that you were all right."

I blinked at her for a moment. "Yes, I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?"

She turned a rather stern gaze upon my son. "Because James told me that you wouldn't be picking him up today because while you were shaving this morning you electrocuted your face."

I looked at James, he looked at me and gave a big grin, and I just shook my head. "I use a blade."

Miss Shonta turned a librarian glare on the both of us and said nothing further as I led my little tweaker out of the room.
( Wanderer, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:37, 1 reply)

Having 3 older brothers
I had to put up with the usual bullshit growing up.

'Hahahahahha you were adopted'
'Mum said she doesn't love you'
'You were actually born a boy'
that kind of loving caring brotherly thing.
They did insist though that they found me one day, when I was very small, by a used empty potty, and a brown ring round my mouth.
'hahahaha you ate your own poo!'

This story would often be brought up at family functions, which would inevitably end up with me bursting into tears, screaming at them and running upstairs to lock myself in my room, missing hours of fun, and feeling very sorry for myself.
I dreaded them bringing it up. There are so many things they told me to upset me, but this one thing killed me.
Fair dues to them, they kept it going for ages.
The day I finally told them 'I fucking give in, I believe you ALRIGHT'
They pissed themselves laughing and told me it was bullshit all along.

I was 27.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Fri 14 Jan 2011, 0:34, 3 replies)