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This is a question Fantasists

Eddie Spunkbubble says: I used to know a sad case who fancied himself as a bit of a 007 and bragged that he always carried a loaded 9mm pistol in his attache case "just in case". Overheard by an off-duty copper, he was asked to make good on his claim. A packed lunch, red face and a stern warning "not to act the twat" and he never did it again. Tell us of Walter Mitty types.

(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 11:40)
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This question is now closed.

my friend sarah was returning to her car in a public car park one day, when she saw a dozy bint reverse far too quickly and smack the fuck out of it
the woman accepted responsibility, but to be on the safe side, sarah asked a gentleman standing nearby if he would be a witness. he agreed readily, and gave her his details. he seemed pleasant enough, a portly balding chap in his mid 50's.

a few weeks later, the dozy bint has become a lying bitch, and swears blind that sarah reversed into her. typical council, the CCTV cameras weren't working and there was no record of the incident. so sarah called her witness to get him to help out.

"oh, i remember you. i'd love to help, but i'm afraid i can't, i'm on tour in australia with kylie minogue right now. yeah, i'm her backing dancer."

this was her first clue that all was not well with the witness. it was useless to point out that he was too fat and old to be on tour with chas'n'dave, never mind kylie. it was useless to point out that she had called a manchester phone number and he had answered it. it was useless to point out that he was a total mentalist. because he absolutely believed what he was saying, and even got quite detailed about his outfits.

sarah ended up claiming on her own policy.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 15:09, Reply)
My uncle is a terrible bigot.
He hates fans of Lord Of The Rings, Dungeons and Dragons and Game Of Thrones.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 15:05, 8 replies)
This chap
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 15:03, Reply)
We had a science teacher at school who became ill. Nice chap, if a little too keen. Anyhow, when he was on his pain meds, chemo etc he (he told us later) had this delusional belief he was a drug lord, killed people and made bombs.

In reality he died.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 14:33, 4 replies)
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 13:32, 11 replies)
Working the bar in a bikers pub in weymouth I used to hear many farfetched tales, but one guy really stood out.
The silver fox. He was so full of shit it was unreal, but I always found it good fun to question him on his past during my shifts to help the time go by. He stands at 5 foot nothing with long flowing silver hair, late 40's perhaps, weedy frame, bad tattoos on skinny arms, bright blue eyes and a constant expression of 'I know it sounds ridiculous but it's all true and I'm awesome'

1. His bike was stolen by the hells angels. So he bust into one of their hangouts unarmed, took out two guys by the entrance, managing to steal a shoutgun from one of them, strutted through a room of bikers who now respected him because of the balls it took to pull off such daring stunt, retreived his bike and left.

2. He was caught by the police doing a wheelie around the king george III statue in weymouth. When repremanded was told his charge was lack of control of his vehicle. He claims he told the police he was in full control and could prove it to them, so the police took him to the station and laid out a course of cones for him to wheelie around, which he did successfully and was let off any charge.

3. He slid his bike under a lorry, like whoever it was did in whatever that film was.

4. He got from bournemouth to weymouth on his bike in 8 minutes.

There are many, many more, including a long stint in the military where he also committed to several brave, and daring tasks.

Proper tosser, but I almost felt sorry for him, he could barely handle 2 pints of john smiths let alone any of his other bullshit!
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 13:04, 16 replies)
I had a friend back in the 70's that went one step further than an imaginary friend,
she had a whole group - the 'Osmonds' that used to be with her all the time. I realise that this immediatley ages me. Anyway, we were in the water meadows one day bellowing through a culvert at each other, as kids do.There was a noise,I looked up from my games and screamed - a man had dropped his pants in front of me. All I heard then was 'Charge Osmonds Charge!!' and she was in hot pursuit of him with her merry band. On her return she explained he did not speak the lingo and wanted a wee. As if!
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 13:01, 2 replies)
My brother and his mates once decapitated a drug dealer.

(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 12:46, 23 replies)
My great grandad wasn't in the trenches of WW1
he was ploughing his fields and doing other farmy-type stuff. No idea if he had anything lucky.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 12:32, 2 replies)
My great grandad was in the trenches in the First World War, and the germans gassed his trench but he was wearing his lucky gas mask so he was fine.

(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 12:08, Reply)
At least he had an excuse
A work colleague was sent to do a job in India. Not surprisingly, he took some extra time off at the end of the job, to to some sightseeing. However, during this holiday, he vanished.

He turned up ten weeks later, wandering the streets of Paris in a state of advanced mental confusion. Apparently he'd met some kind of Guru in India, but after that things were hazy. He was in such a bad state that he was sectioned, and returned to the UK to take up residence in a psychiatric institution.

Some of his cow-orkers visited him in hospital. It was a very bizarre experience; on the face of things he was normal, and he interacted with people in a perfectly ordinary way -- but what he was actually saying was decidedly odd. He firmly believed that he could out-run any olympic runner, hold his breath underwater for twenty minutes, see through walls, and many other grandiose and superhuman abilities. But he said it in such normal, ordinary tones that you almost believed him.

He also stated that he could heal the sick, merely by the laying on of hands. He asked if any of us wanted to be healed - well, I've always had a little trouble with psoriasis, and there's no cure, so I let him have a go. He placed his hands on my arm and forehead, then closed his eyes in concentration. After a few seconds he released me, and told me that I was cured.

And you know what? Incredibly, and to my utter amazement, over the next few weeks, absolutely nothing happened at all.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 11:49, 10 replies)
Every 'local' boozer has one.
The guy who was friend to the stars, been a key behind-the-scenes-figure at various historical events(a fact they pften use to contradict 'received' wisdom) and a series of highly-glamourous jobs but no explanation as to how they came to be drinking cheap lager and dressing in clothes from Matalan in an old-man's boozer in an off-the-beaten-track place.
Dave's main schtick was that he'd been a photographer for the music press in London during the 60's, 70's and early-to-mid-80's and like any good bullshitter had a great line in righteous indignation if it was suggested he might be making any of this up and/or plain wrong, usually signing off a conversation he'd butted into with 'well you weren't even born then, how would you know?'

Dave's final unveiling as a Walt came as a result of a mildly staged conversation between the resident Old Punk and the Village Goth. A friendly chat over the merits of 'were The Damned a goth band' was pleasantly and gradually evolving when Dave stuck his unwelcome oar in to offer his 'insights' into the habits and characters of various denizens of the punk and early goth scene.
Irritated with this, VG set a cunning trap which he knew Dave would be unable to resist.

'Of course, I was always more a fan of the Sisters myself.' A pause, a sip on his cider and black and a crafty wink to OP 'Mind you, I met Doktor Avalanche and I couldn't believe what a fucking cunt he was'

'Actually, I always found him to be a lovely guy' came the reply from Dave.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 11:10, 10 replies)
My great grandad was in the trenches in the First World War, and he had a lucky bullet. A German threw a cigarette case at him but the lucky bullet was in his left breast pocket and the cigarette case hit it and it saved him.

(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 11:10, Reply)
My great grandad was in the trenches in the First World War, and a sniper shot at him and ripped his tongue clean out of his mouth
But he doesn't like to talk about it
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 11:08, 1 reply)
My great grandad was in the trenches in the First World War, and a sniper shot at him but his cigarette case was in his left breast pocket and the bullet hit it and it saved him.

(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 11:05, 5 replies)
I must have met a dozen people who've claimed they used to go tipping over cows when they were yoofs.

(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 10:32, 16 replies)
Now then, now then...
I went out with a famous DJ's sister's friend.
I was on Crackerjack at the age of ten
And I saw The Sex Pistols play down at The 100 Club
And I spent New Year's Eve at Sensible's den.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 9:44, 3 replies)
I'd like to meet a chap with jaundice who's taken medication to calm his nerves, just so that I could greet him with
"Hello, mellow yellow fellow."
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 9:25, 4 replies)
I used to go out with a girl who believed in God

(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 9:11, 5 replies)
I once lived in a little village
and there was this weird little man who used to ask me:

'Is it true about the bombs in my dreams?'

I used to say, 'No, don't worry, it's not true.'


He simply said 'Oh' and shuffled away, and never asked me again.

Laters sweeties XXXXXX
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 8:32, 12 replies)
Scourge of the Voggles
My sister knew this fellow: husband of her school chum. He claimed to be retired from the Riverside, California police department. He said their greatest challenge was combating The Vagos motorcycle gang, but he pronounced it as "Voggles". The Vagos are a fearsome, ruthless gang; The Voggles sounds like a down-market knockoff of The Wiggles.

In any event, his wife was growing blind, so they decided to move back to New Mexico from Los Angeles, California, in a used RV vehicle, together with her jewelry and a huge collection of guns and ammunition. Outside of Palm Springs, the RV overheated and caught fire. All the ammunition started firing off. No one could approach the vehicle and fight the fire. The police had to close a major highway for more than hour and wait for the RV to burn down to the axles. Because she was blind, his wife never recovered the jewelry from the ashes.

Life was hard on them. Nonetheless, I liked listening to his tales of derring do, ferreting out drugs and knocking over biker kingpins, a la Sons of Anarchy.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 7:48, Reply)
“Hey, I’ve got something to tell you” said Steve, the Contracts Manager, at the end of a site meeting. Steve had been working with us a couple of weeks, but was already sussed as a Munchausen’s Syndromer; he apparently had a Harley Davidson chopper, and promised to ride it in to work on Friday – unfortunately it got stolen on Thursday night. He used to play rugby for London Irish, but voluntarily, so never got on the listed squad. He was friends with the Chelsea team doctor, and promised to get me a signed football. To his credit, he came through on that one, albeit uninflated, all signatures in the same hand mostly indecipherable except the two names most likely to be known to the lay fan, and pristine yet easily smudged. He flew to NY for the weekend on Concord’s final flight. That sort of irrefutable shit.

“Hey, I’ve got something to tell you…, my sister was having this hot bath once and found this lump on her arm where she'd got bitten by a spider on holiday, she started sqeez....”

“Steve, STOP IT NOW!” I interrupted, surprising myself with my tone, technically (well...actually) he outranked me. “You would n’t believe how many times I’ve heard this fucking story, don’t tell me… she squeezed the lump and it burst and hundreds of baby spiders ran all over her? Mate, that story’s been going around the traps forever, I reckon I first heard it maybe 20 years ago”

He grinned and nodded emphatically “That was my sister!”

He was a useless CM to boot, and was sacked a few weeks later. Probably bluffed his way into the job in the first place.

These people actually have a mental disorder, they need help. One day questions like this will be seen as being in incredibly poor taste - I say let’s milk them for lols while we can.
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 3:44, Reply)
Cow Punching, etc
My good mate "Wig" tells a tall tale or three, usually positioning himself in an heroic cast. At Uni he would reveal such gems as the time his uncle knocked out a cow with one punch or the time he put his hand clean-through a wheelie bin in a fit of rage.

He'd even embellish stories of nights out where other witnesses were present to contradict his version. I remember he once told some friends that he gave two blokes a pasting in a virtually deserted cinema because they ganged up on him.

All that actually happened was that he told some teenager to shut up in the cinema - I know, because I was fucking there!
(, Fri 6 Jun 2014, 0:16, Reply)
(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 22:01, 2 replies)
Down the road from where I lived with my parents was some kind of home for spastics. They were allowed out on their own.

I think my Dad must have bumped into one on the street and then invited him round for tea, 'cos that's the kind of thing he does.

So were sitting there chatting about the weather or something, and he said "You know trains?"
"Yes Michael."
"I used to design them."

There was some other stuff he used to come out with as well - I think he said he was a qualified helicopter pilot and had invented fluorescent lighting.
(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 21:41, 8 replies)
Once, I found a lump under my armpit.
I was having a bath at the time. As I began to investigate, it burst, and somehow sending a blob of body-fluid towards my face.

Long story short, I pussed in my own mouth.

(Thank you, Fork.)
(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 21:40, 6 replies)
Steven in our sixth form geology class
Tried to convince us that he was famous for directing Raiders Of The Lost Ark. Problems were:

1. He would have been about 10 when it came out.
2. His surname was Spriggins, not Spielberg, and everyone knew it.

Unfortunately he was sufficiently barking that he really believed it himself. Incidentally, he also had a tartrazine allergy causing hyperactivity, and used to drink orange squash to get himself wound up into a frenzy. Knob.
(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 21:27, Reply)
Davies lied about everything.
He claimed he had invented a self-walking dog collar. He claimed that he was world amateur rally champion, and a war hero, and a world class drummer and secretly a millionaire. There was supposedly a SCUD missile in his loft.

Mark Morrison was on TFI Friday.
"He was born in the bed next to the one I was born in, in a convent in Ipswich", claimed Davies.
"Mark Morrison, born in Germany, lived in England, grew up in America", said Chris Evans.

Davies went bright purple as he bellowed at the TV, calling Evans a fucking lying ginger cunt, amongst other things, in the vain hope that he could hear him.
(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 21:01, 10 replies)
Best lie I witnessed was from a girl I knew who was great at doing the "don't fuck with me" face and
voice. Some people in a pub were having a laugh about the ineptitude and general crappyness of the legendary Chuckle Brothers.

Girl I know interrupted them, "WHAT - DID - YOU - JUST - SAY ABOUT MYYYYYYYYYYY UNCLES!"

I swear the group of harmless, student types nearly shat themselves,
(, Thu 5 Jun 2014, 20:53, 3 replies)

This question is now closed.

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