well into my teens
When I was a teenager, I worked in a store in a shopping mall. They played musak in that store on a 45 minute loop, and every 45 minutes I'd hear one specific song. I worked there about a week until I realized that this song was in fact called "Secret AGENT Man", not "Secret ASIAN Man" as I had always believed as a child.

"Beware of pretty faces that you find,
A pretty face can hide an evil mind,
Ah, be careful what you say Or you'll give yourself away,
Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow.
Secret asian man, secret asian man
They've given you a number and taken away your name."

Now I believe it voluntarily as I like my (slightly racist) reality better.
(boink, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 18:44, 1 reply)

My Mate
Once told me that his older brother had to quit his job in a nursing home after some of the old women molested him.
(Glucose-Maximus All over the world., Mon 23 Jan 2012, 17:49, 3 replies)

My mum told me your mum wasn't up for it.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 17:17, 2 replies)

I used to think ....
... a hard-on was for pishing over high walls. (Bindun ?)
( Ramsay Tupper, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 17:02, 6 replies)

Jonny Foreigner
I couldn't understand why people spoke different languages.

As I explained to my mum, if they see a chair and think "that's a chair" why woudl they then have to find another word for it? Why not just say "that's a chair"?

I was convinced everyone did [insert language] to english translation all the time in their heads.

5t.
(fivetide, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 16:23, 5 replies)

When I was about 12
my mate Gary Fish told me that if you masturbate too much your bumhole heals over and you have to go to the hospital to have your turds removed through a hole in your stomach. That night I squatted over a mirror and was convinced I saw a membrane covering my anus. I cried myself to sleep but the next day I had a poo. Needless to say the wanking continued in earnest.
(Leemondus, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 15:36, 4 replies)

My mum told me that girls don't poo
Still freaks me out to think of women and associated bowel movements
(littleben hasn't anything funny to put here, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 15:10, 9 replies)

If you'll be my bodyguard...
For years and years I thought Paul Simon was Chevy Chase.

I'd see movies starring Chase - and always think it odd that he had a seperate career as a singer of strangely worded songs.

Even today, if I see the real Paul Simon on TV, I still can't shake off the feeling that he's an imposter.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 13:56, 11 replies)

Wessel Johannes Cronje
I believed in him and the SA cricket team were my second favourite because he was their captain. But by the time "Hansie" had his little accident, my vision of him had gone the same way as that of the tooth fairy. Actually, I even smiled when I heard the news.
(justin(e), Mon 23 Jan 2012, 13:43, 1 reply)

Mind bleach has reminded me of a story from my formative years
Back in the Day Me and My little brother were huge Superman fans

We had recently seen Superman 2 and the bit where Superman gets the bit of coal and crushes it in his hand to make a perfectly cut diamond for Lana Lang really grabbed our interest, especially as our Grandpa had a coal bunker in his garden, the fool we thought he could be sitting on untold riches and he doesn't even know it!

We naturally realised that our puny hands would be unable to exert such pressure to squash the Coal and release the shiny diamond hiding in the middle so we used to steal handfuls of coal from our Grandpa's coal bunker and take them into his shed to crush them in his vice.

Manys the time that we would emerge from the shed looking like a couple of victorian chimeny sweeps confident that it was only a matter of time before we would find our diamond.

WE never did, and we got told off for wasting coal and getting coal dust on the furniture. bloody Superman!
(superkitty is neither super nor a kitty, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 13:42, 2 replies)

I used to believe...
When I was 8-ish, I shared a bedroom with my sister, but I was allowed to stay in my parents' bedroom to listen to music and read for a bit before going to my own bedroom and going to sleep.

Parents' bedroom was much larger than ours, and in it was the boiler cupboard, whatever it was, full of all sorts of things (and it was where parents hide presents, I quickly found out...)

Anyway, as I would lie in this huge bed, I used to believe that behind the boiler, there was this portal that would open up only at night, and all sorts of beings would come out. They'd never leave the cupboard, but they would watch me. Normally it was just one person, like that Pink power ranger or a My Little Pony or a Lego toy or something, but sometimes I remember there being whole teams of cartoon show characters appearing in there.


I was also one to believe that my toys come to life when I'm asleep, like in Toy Story. To stop my favourite toys from coming to life, I used to tell them off and put them in my bed so they couldn't move without waking me up.
(Spy is dead., Mon 23 Jan 2012, 13:22, Reply)

Teachers at my primary school told me
That there was an invisible man who lived in the sky who'd created everything and really really loved me, but if I didn't love him back I'd burn in a lake of fire for all eternity.
(onemunki Down there for dancing, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 13:16, Reply)

My dad read us a ghost story one evening
and it concluded instructing us that if you don't believe in ghosts then they will come and haunt you.

I spent the whole night under my duvet repeating "Yes I do believe in ghosts, yes I do believe in ghosts, yes I do believe in ghosts".
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 12:47, 3 replies)

Bloke down the pub...
...was adamant that global warming was due to Nuclear bombs being tested and the force of such had pushed the Earth closer to the Sun.
(onemunki Down there for dancing, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 12:46, 15 replies)

Pirate Radio
Having been told that radio waves were vibrations in the air, I reasoned that the aerial on my radio was therefore vibrating at a particular frequency so as to pick up Radio 1.

With a flash of insight, I reasoned that if I touched my walkie-talkie aerial to my radio aerial, that would make the two aerials vibrate at the *same* frequency. Obviously, this would allow me to talk into my walkie-talkie, and my words would get transmitted on the same frequncy as Steve Wright, over the top of him. I could hack into his broadcast! And surely it'd be untraceable!

I tried it, but for some reason Steve Wright made no mention of viewers calling in to enquire as to who the small child was whispering over the top of his show. Then my dad poked his head in to enquire as to exactly what I was furtively up to. I suddenly decided that I wasn't sure how much trouble you could get into for running a private radio station, so I said "Nothing!", and packed my walkie-talkies away.
(kithkill, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 12:29, 2 replies)

My parents told me they loved uzzardC4H5As.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 10:13, 8 replies)

my parents told me they love me
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 10:04, 8 replies)

Missed the 'Putdowns' QOTW. Can I just leave this here?
As a small boy, I believed that the doyenne of my mum's WI group earned the soubriquet 'Queen Jean' on account of her esteemed position among the jam and jerusalem set.

But no. Wibbly line yourself back to the early 60s.

As part of their work, the WI took it upon themselves to care for the elderly and infirm spinsters of the parish. It so happened that Jean was washing, ironing, cleaning and probably helping herself to the chocolate digestives of one such elderly lady, when there was a knock at the door.

Peering over the security chain, Jean espied a slightly shifty looking man in a long coat asking to see Mrs Elphinstone. Alert to the dangers to elderly ladies of predatory callers, Jean politely but firmly refused him entry and closed the door.

A second, somewhat more strident knocking raised her to to the door again, where the man was now accompanied by a woman, who also asked to see Mrs Elphinstone, but, without ID, appointment or invitation, was firmly rebuffed and the door shut, bolted and curtains closed.

I found out only recently, that for 30 years they called her 'Queen Jean' because she had slammed the door in the face of Her Britannic Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas Queen, Defender of the Faith; a face not unknown in these islands and popularised on a wide range of coins, banknotes, stamps and commemorative kitchenware, who was travelling incognito to visit her elderly godmother.
(pounana Slept well, and dreamed of large women, on, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 9:46, 7 replies)

From misreading the cover of 'Demolition man'
I used to believe there was an actor called Stallion Snipes.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 8:52, 5 replies)

I actually used to be scared senseless of....
Those noisy road sweeper style contraptions used to clean paths, I actually thought they would suck me inside :(

Still don't go near the fuckers.
(TimWestwoodIsAPleb, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 6:52, Reply)

Radio was so cool
I was fascinated with how these bits of metal could send messages to each other, so like a proper scientist I decided to try some experiments to see which metals were most efficient. The experimental protocol went like this:

Take a 9V battery and attach crocodile clips.
Find two examples of the same denomination of coin (as they were the same metal)
Attach crocodile clips to one coin
Place other coin on the TV
Hypothesis: The presence of the coin's signals will create interference, degrading picture quality to the point the Antiques Roadshow becomes unwatchable.

After some months I reluctantly accepted the null hypothesis.
( Ungersven would support SpankyHanky's patreon, Mon 23 Jan 2012, 2:16, 3 replies)

I was once told
if I go to bed in my socks my feet will rot when I'm asleep. Also I was told - actually I think it was my nan who was told who then told me - that if you go to sleep in your socks your feet will start to grow. They'll grow out over your bed, out of your bedroom door, down the stairs, out the front door and down the road for ever more. I never slept in my socks again.
(zombiedeadbloke, Sun 22 Jan 2012, 23:43, 1 reply)

My parents were sadistic bastards
All monks at Buckfast Abbey ate children and could smell them from up to a mile away, this involved me staying in the car for half a day curled up in the passenger footwell trying not to breath.

If you made a hole in your lungs you could keep breathing in forever.

Horse flies could kill you with one bite.

Firing an unloaded air rifle will cause it to explode.

Everyone who wasn't white was inherently evil.

That my parents were 'nice' people.
(KidA, Sun 22 Jan 2012, 23:11, 2 replies)

Hell Centre
When I was a child I was convinced that our local health centre was actually called "the Hell Centre".

And, actually, given the terrible treatment/indifference that my sister is currently receiving there for a kidney disease I'm beginning to believe that I was right in what I called it.
(gjms in a shed in Scotland, Sun 22 Jan 2012, 22:25, Reply)

I thought that if you had an acoustic guitar
then it meant that you were a protest singer.

I can smile about it now, but at the time it was terrible.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 22 Jan 2012, 21:00, 2 replies)

The word "wank"
...was a euphemism for having sex, only used in opera. I believed that one for years.
(rogerzilla, Sun 22 Jan 2012, 20:16, 2 replies)