total refreshment
Lying in the sun at glasto (and somewhat the worse for wear) I remarked how much nicer the Brothers cider was than Strongbow. 'Ah' says my mate with a authorative air, 'thats because Strongbow isn't technically a cider. Think about it, have you ever seen it referred to as a cider? No, you just see Strongbow and assume its a cider. It became cheaper to make it from alcohol, fizzy water and flavourings'.

Bastard. I reckon I spent almost £50 over a few months on paying extra for "proper cider" because I wasn't drinking that synthetic shite.

Almost as bad as my Dad telling me the birds sat on the leccy lines to keep their feet warm. It took me to the final year of a physics degree to work that one out.
(Stripper Vicar, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 19:17, 2 replies)

I live in a crap hole in Virginia
although im originally from South Africa. My origin often brings about blank stares and questions like "what country in south africa are you from?" so i make use of this wonderful gift i have been given and take the piss any opportunity i get, including asking for no ice in my water, because im allergic to ice.

The first time I tried it i was at a bar, chatting up a fit waitress who asked me whether i have christmas in my country. I strung her some long story about how, because we are so far South the earth's rotation and orbit causes us to have 13 months in our years and so we dont get a chance to coincide christmas time with the US so we abandoned it entirely.

She looked at me and said, "oh that makes sense... thats why the chinese new year is at a different time to ours."

yes, sweety...so can i have a glass of water please?..no ice...
( gee4s allergic to ice since, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 18:52, 4 replies)

My mates a bit gullible
My mate, lets call him Archie (for that is his nickname) is Scottish and recently moved to South Africa (where I´m from) and is just beginning to settle in to our sometimes odd way of life, habits, customs etc. Cue his phone call to me:
Archie: Hey mate you don´t know any way to get rid of crickets, do you.
Thinking off the cuff, I reply: Yeah, just cut a small square of really strong blue cheese, add a dollop of tabasco sauce on top and put one in every corner....
Archie: Cheers mate, let you know how I get on.




Had to call him back after I had stopped laughing and tell him it was a joke. I was in the apartheid museum at the time, a very sombre reflective place (please go and visit if youre ever in the area) and not the place to suddernly burst out laughing uncontrolably.............

Would have loved to have let him do it, but I´m not that much of a b3st3rd.
(astrosinmyeyes is hoping Manson is released before, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 18:18, Reply)

Jokes with beginners
A friend started to work in a "shop" for tools, machinery and the like - in fact, it was a few big halls spread over 1 or 2 hectar. As the newbie du jour, he was shown around the complex and what was where.
In order to show him his place in the company, he was told to do material transport for a few days. "Bring this to hall C and get some fries, presto!" - you get the picture.

After some days of running around he had most of the important stuff memorized. Then he was told to fetch some protective gloves and anvil fat. "Anvil fat?" "Get moving to hall A, you bum!" So off he went and walked to the counter in hall A. He got the gloves and was told: "Oh the anvil fat. That just moved to hall D." Guess what they told him in hall D, at the opposite corner of the premises? Right, they just had to store it in hall B because it rained through the ceiling. No anvil fat in hall B either...
2 weeks later he was told to fetch the rasp fat. "Get that yourself, you moron! Fool someone else!" he said. Only to find out that something like rasp fat really existed and was available in hall A...
(timbolator successfully hiding from the authorities on, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 16:56, Reply)

Smoking
It's not big, and as we all know, certainly not clever. But the pleasure of smoking can be greatly enhanced by giving a gullible smoker one of these:

.

Which then lights up, and I ended up with what was essentially a lit firework. In my mouth.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sun 24 Aug 2008, 16:51, Reply)

We were all gullible enough to believe American Intelligence about WMD's that we supported a war,
and then when we realised we'd been really stupid, we blamed it on our PM and sacked him.

Yay us!
( ..wil, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 15:38, Reply)

in A level chemistry
i once got a friend to try to draw methene, it took him about 5 minutes to realise that methene doesnt exist
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 14:33, 3 replies)

Left-Handed Knife
When i left school I went to work for BT as an apprentice, so naturally i was going to be in for gullible stick from the older lot.

Thankfully i'd been prepared by my old man...

So on the 2nd day i was asked to go to the canteen to get the buttys in, and the office dick also asked me to get a left handed knife whilst i'm there.

"ok, no problem" says i, to the amusement of the office.

So 40mins later i came back with buttys (now cold) and a knife.

Office Dick: why've you been so long, by bloody butty's cold now!
Me: Well, i was struggling for so long to get a left handed knife, but it's ok i got one!!
OD: What, you got a left handed knife?
Me: Yep, here you go.
OD: There's no such thing as a left-handed fork you div!
Me: Yeah there is, look.

I then proceeded to use the knife in my left hand and cut his butty to shreds.

Me: Oh, i guess you're right!

They left me alone for a while after that :-)
(One_Winged_Angel Ich Dien, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 13:25, Reply)

American tourist...
I was in Stockholm a few weeks ago and, whilst there, a friend and I happened to be at the palace at 12.30, when they do the changing of the guard. It was quite an elaborate ceremony with soldiers in full dress uniform displaying their swords, a marching band, horses and canons. An unfortunate American woman next to me asked me if I knew what was happening, to which I replied: "Oh, it's an execution...."

She got quite upset and was trying to leave when I had to admit that it wasn't.

She also believed me later when the band started playing and I said: "Oh, this is the national anthem of IKEA...."
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 12:18, Reply)

Very local radio


Given that she’s known me for 30-something years – and been at least partially responsible for my having turned out the way I have – you might expect my mother to have got wise by now to the fact that I spend quite a lot of time winding her up. But: no. She falls for it every time.

A couple of months ago, my parents came up to Manchester to visit. The conversation wandered, and we ended up talking about something that I’d heard on the radio recently. “Oh,” said Mum, “I think I heard that. Couple of weeks ago, wasn’t it?”
I nodded.
“I can’t remember what programme it was on,” she mused, “but I do remember hearing it. I think I was in the kitchen at the time.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I don’t think we can be talking about the same thing then. When I heard it, I was in the car.”
I caught Dad’s eye and gave him the “say nothing” look. Mum was staring into the middle distance.
“No. I suppose it must have been something different after all…”

Amazingly, Dad and I managed to keep straight faces. Well: for about three seconds.

Hooray! It’s my b3taday!
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 12:13, 8 replies)

Legal
When I got a job in a nightclub as a barman on the under 18s nights, a judge told me it's ok that I had spread the rumour that my spunk, when applied to the face, soaks in and gets you drunk and that it doesn't count as abuse as I wasn't doing anything against their will.

Though it did lead to the poster campaign,

**
Sticky or Drunk, YOU DECIDE
**
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 11:25, Reply)

Sloppy Giuseppe reminded me of this
I was in a rather posh eaterie recently with 20 or so people who were all good friends celebrating a birthday - i'm the new bloke here so was feeling slightly awkward but was doing my best to integrate.

one guy clearly fancied himself as the alpha male, huge big bloke with a shaven head. (i'm a short stocky glaswegian) So alpha male is generally a bit pissed and acting up - in front of everyone, out of the blue he suddenly looks me in the eye and goes...

"so Spimf whats it like to suck a dogs cock?"

silence falls across the table

"dunno mate - have you asked your mum?"

(i swear someone gasped in the background)

alpha male leaps up and bellows

"my mum died when i was only seven you bastard!"

"yeah? what happened, choked on a dogs cock did she?"

then in my best attempt at Joe Pesci...

"fuck you ya bald cunt - I'm not buying that. sit down and drink your fucking malibu"

thankfully for me it would seem his mother is alive and well







i think she works at battersea dogs home
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 9:05, 5 replies)

My best friend and I took a trip to Canada and the US
At Niagara Falls he convinced me that they turn the water flow off overnight.

I got him back by telling him that, while in Toronto, I wanted to visit the Zucker, Abrahams & Zucker Museum, dedicated to the makers of Airplane!. He believed me, until I disabused him an hour or so later. No matter: once we got to New York I told him that the ZAZ Museum was actually there instead - and he believed me again.

Happy days.
( john3ners has relocated to the Highlands, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 8:39, 1 reply)

Apprentices always fall for everything
and my father, a welder for over 40 years now, has seen a few of them.

At one point he worked with two guys who hated each other. They also both had a penchant for practical jokes. Things like filling each other's hats with engine grease.

On one occasion, co-worker A thought he would have a bit of fun and said to his apprentice, "Go and see if co-worker B has a left handed screwdriver, I really need one for this job."

Gullible apprentice falls for the joke and asks co-worker B who is pissed of at being disturbed. "No, I don't have one. Wait a minute though, I think I can help."

He walked over to co-worker A's toolbox, grabbed all his screwdrivers and took them back to his bench. One at a time he stuck then in the vice and gave them all a 45 degree bend.

"There you go" he said to the apprentice, "Take them back and tell him they're all left handed screwdrivers now."
( Mystery_Bob, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 4:53, 1 reply)

My Uncle
My uncle used to do a lot of bush work around the world, and especially in Africa. Tree felling, saw-milling, track cutting and that sort of stuff. There wasn’t much of him to look at – below average height and slim build, he probably wouldn’t weigh 65 kilo ringing wet. But given his years of serious manual work he was unbelievably wiry and had the endurance of a marathon runner.

Back many years when times were a bit harder he was looking for work in Canada and got a tip that they were after lumberjacks in a certain forest area. So he rocks up at this camp and speaks to the head guy. The head guy was really rude and treated him with contempt as he just didn’t think my uncle was up to the task. The head guy, and pretty much everyone else in the camp, was at least a foot taller than him and far more muscular. Evidently these guys were used to hard work and thought my uncle was too weak to keep up. But my uncle was insistent that they give him a try and after much nagging they decided to provide a test. They took him into the forest, gave him an axe, pointed him toward an absolutely massive redwood and gave him instructions to fell it as quickly as possible. Then they left him to it. Now I don't know much about trees but I am reliably informed that redwood's can be seriously big buggers and normally there is no way one man would be expected to fell one alone.

A couple of hours later my uncle gets back to the camp, puffing a bit but declaring he was finished. The other lumberjacks couldn’t believe it so they all traipsed off into the forest to see what has been going on. When they get to the spot they were all amazed at what they saw – not only had the mighty tree been dropped, my uncle had also spit it into planks and neatly stacked them all. The boss just couldn’t believe it and he asked uncle ‘How did you learn how to cut wood like that? Where were you working before coming to Canada?’ My uncle replied ‘Well, I did a few years in the Sahara forest.’ The boss said ‘Don’t you mean the Sahara desert?’ Uncle replied ‘That’s what they call it now.’






gullible is believing anything I post on here

( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 3:43, 4 replies)

Planes
I suffer from massive anxiety, which unfortunatly can give me 'make belive' pain. I was going on holiday with my then bf. I'd never been on a plane befor, and whilst i wasnt scared as such i was stupidly anxious to the point my doctor had thought i had kidney failure.

To help ease my pain my bf told me all about how planes fly. Being a total geek and loving fantasy and dungeons and dragon etc he hit upon a great explanation....On each plane, look out for a wizard. he superglues his ass to the chair and uses a flying spell to make the plane move. There are no engins... just a levitating wizard with a plane stuck to his bum...

I was 21 at the time. And even though i knew it to be total make belive... i still asked him were the wizard was, and still look out for the little guy anytime i fly.

I guess im not gullible by mistake.... i choose to be gullible about some things when the lie is so much more comforting than the truth.
(Serbitar Has a furry shit canon called Whitey., Sun 24 Aug 2008, 1:50, 5 replies)

Simple but effective.
I once told my eight year old cousin that you could see the sewers when you looked down the hosepipe.

I dont think I need to elaborate.
(Valstorm, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 0:56, Reply)

When i was at school
I know this isn't quite what the questioner had in mind. However, when i was in Lower Sixth Form, a friend of mine, Seb, once tried to convince a bunch of us that, Gullible had in deed been taking out of the dictionary. He backed this claim up with something about american spelling or some such crap, i wasn't listening. See as a dyslexic (my gf tells me i can't write proper english so this may or may not be apparent from my post) I spent the entire "lie" trying to work out how to spell gullible, in my head. I do believe i spelt it with an A and not an I. He seemed to think i had fallen for his "joke".

Another time. Bare with me, this gets a little weird and complicated. First the back story. A friend of mine, Dave, during sixth form, had proposed to his then girlfriend, Catherine (they didn't get married, thankfully). News broke and it all got a little weird. However they had decided to tell everyone that they had called it off, while actually staying engaged. The reason for this escapes me. So Dave told me and asked i not tell anyone, i didn't however, during a few drinks with Dave and Euan, Dave disclosed that the engagement was still on. So back story over. Engagement secret, Euan and I knew etc etc. A week or so later an old friends of ours was in town for a couple of weeks (was the summer hols). And there had been arrange a large gathering to a) greet and see Woggle (the friend) and b) get drunk.

So i was sat with Euan discussing the "secret" when Diane over heard us and asked what the secret was. I, thinking fast, well as fast as i can, made up a story that one of our friends was in fact a transvestite, and that only 3 people knew about it, Euan, myself and their mother. She believed me and understood that i could not possible disclose this person's name. fats forward at least six month, possible a whole year and another friend of mine, Zoe, asked who this trannie was. I confessed to her, the "engagement" was old news by then.
(StyX is staring at you, yes YOU!!!, Sun 24 Aug 2008, 0:21, Reply)

Conned by a bloke in the pub...
A few years ago as a student in Sheffield, a group of us were telling jokes in a pub. As Southerners in a Northern local, and students to boot, we weren't particularly popular, but we were keeping ourselves to ourselves, and as far as we were aware, weren't bothering anyone.

My friend James came out with an absolutely lame one.

"What do you do if an epileptic has a fit in a bath? Throw your washing in..."

which was met with a bit of half-arsed laughter, until the huge bloke on the next table stood up, staring James straight in the eye.

"Now you lads seem alright, so I was going to leave you be. But don't ever fcuking say something like that - my brother was an epileptic and he died in the bath."

All for of us felt incredibly ashamed, studied our feet, mumbled apologies, and all the while this burly monster's murderous stare was fixed on James.

"Yeah," he continued. "It was a fcuking tragedy. He choked to death on a sock."
(Sloppy Giuseppe, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 23:42, 6 replies)

Tooms
Ooh just remembered this one too. I don't know how many of you watched the X Files in it's early days, but one episode featured a rather creepy chap named Eugene Victor Tooms. Tooms had the ability to stretch so he could fit through incredibly small spaces. He was a freaky little fecker and given that I was only 11 or 12 at the time made him doubly scary.

Imagine how my friend's younger sister must have felt, who was 3 years younger than us, when my friend convinced the poor girl that Tooms could fit through the heating vents in her bedroom and would come and get her in the night.

I'm not sure how long it took their mum to undo that one.
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 21:43, 5 replies)

Maggots!
When I was about 13/14 I used to go fishing every weekend.
I would spend evenings during the week checking my kit, making sure I had everything and that it was clean and tip top.

As I was doing this I would be planning how I was going to approach the particular venue I was going to fishing. Float or ledger? perhaps a swimfeeder? maggot or worm? Should I fish close to the bank or far out? Should I ....You get the picture.

To my mind these were all critical equations that needed to be figured out. I needed peace and solace time whilst cleaning my tackle(ahem) with which to do it.

Cue younger sister.
She's getting all about the place, being noisy, in my face, hassling me like a wasp on a summers day.

"can I help?"
"No"
"But I want to help"
"There is nothing you can do leave me alone"

Cue Mom

"Let your sister help you"
"But"
"No buts....do it!"

"Actually there IS something you can do. See that pint of maggots over there. You see how there are two colours to them, that some are natural and some are red."
"Yes"
"I need them seperating"

And she did!!

It took her about 2 hours of painstakingly finger picking out the maggots into two separate bait boxes. She hates maggots. When she proudly proclaimed she had finished I poured them all back into the original box together.

Tears followed.

But I had my peace and quiet.
(never-right -getting it wrong since '78, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 21:35, 5 replies)

Eraser pens and breasts
I remember a girl in my maths class once convincing someone that those ink eraser pens tasted like strawberries, even though they smelt awful. The girl actually licked one. Tasty.

Reading someone's post about boobs made me laugh because I remembered something that my now boyfriend did once. My chap led a somewhat sheltered life and was an actual nice teenager, no smoking, no drinking etc.

However, the first time he got drunk, he got brave. Apparently, he went up to some girl in the street and said "I have a phobia of breasts, can I feel yours to get over my fear?"

Sadly he ran away before she replied so I don't know if she would've fallen for it.
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 21:32, Reply)

Gullible young Cumbrians
Just remembered this one on the way home this afternoon coming home through Ulverston, Cumbria.

All of those who know the area will know that there is a pretend light house on the top of Hoad Hill. As a small child my dear father had me convinced that there was a man who lived under the lighthouse and through cycling(?) raised the light house up and down. (Which it does do).

Took years to realise that it's the many hills that we travelled over that caused the lighthouse to rise and fall. Oh dear and I get let out on my own now.
(scaredy-cat, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 21:25, 1 reply)

Me
I believed that I was being original when I posted that I believed most of the stories on here.
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 20:50, Reply)

mrs spimf
mrs spimf is bright - very bright. her IQ pisses over the mensa tests. however like many bright individuals she has a staggering defecit in the common sense department. that coupled with an endearing trait that she has complete trust in anything i tell her has over the years thrown up a few belters - so far mrs spimf has swallowed:

her little set of girly pastel coloured dumbells also come and a handy inflatable travel version.

lava lamps contain real lava "yes Mrs Spimf - they employ little Fillpino kids in particularly hot sweat shops to spoon 1200 °C liquid rock into glass jars you can heat up with a 20 watt bulb"

audley harrison (world heavy weight boxing champion) and ainsley harriot (grinning buffoon tv 'cook') are the same person

there was a 3rd world war in the 50's that america won

other oddities are her belief that seahorses were mythical creatures - like unicorns, when i showed her a seahorse in an aquarium shop once she nearly fainted

there will be edits to this as soon as i remember some more
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 20:08, 3 replies)

Parents are good at lying
As a young teen vegan i had an extreme fondness for haribo goldenbears, once bringing home 2 plastic bagfuls of them from Munich, where they are dirt cheap.

I was 20 when i found out what gelatine is made of. When asked why she told me it was tree sap, Mom said she didn't want to ruin "the only good thing in your life back then".

At least i eat meat now. Curry = yumm..
(Young_Chauncey, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 20:07, Reply)

Evil Thatcher is gonna get ya!
I was an odious little shit when I was small. My parents had to cope with a superabundance of energy and the fact that I stayed awake 20 hours a day from the ages of 3 to 7 (insomnia still affects me now and then). Practically the only thing that could get me to sleep was my mother doing the hoovering or playing Bob Marley records.

Anyway, as I have shown I was an unpleasant child to deal with, at least from the sleep acquisition aspect of parentage.

Naturally as I was awake I would try to stay up watching TV on our old black and white set (my father refused to buy a colour TV as the black and white one he had bought in c1965 still worked fine. Ish.). This annoyed my parents immensely.

Bringing to bear all their combined parenting skills, and growing alcoholism, they tried various ways to get me to go to bed and at least pretend to be asleep. Screaming at me didn't work. Smacking me until I was exhausted from crying didn't work. All it would elicit was a temporary, and tactical, withdrawal to my room from whence I would inevitably sneak downstairs again.

They got novel. Spiking my milk with vodka worked for a while, but got too expensive. Calpol... well lets just say it almost go to the stage where I was prising the hubcaps off my dad's shitty car and selling them in the playground to buy more toddler smack.

Then, one day, a revelation came to them. They remembered that during the miners strike I had been quite interested in what was going on. Not only did Arthur Scargill scare me (thoroughly approved of by my parents), but Maggie Thatcher did too (less thoroughly approved of).

Realising that Thatcher scared the shit out of me gave my dad the germ of an idea. Whenever I asked if I could stay up later (I was about 6 or 7 at time) the Old Man would go to the phone and pretend to call Thatcher, asking if I could stay up later. Invariably the answer was no and that if I did stay up, she would come and punish me. Result, from their point of view, and I would dutifully trudge upstairs to spend several hours staring at the wall and trying to sleep.

The only problem was, that after several weeks my childish cockiness asserted itself and I began to creep downstairs again. This exercised my dad no end, and I became adept at dodging blows and running from the fag smoke wreathed monster that he became when he caught me downstairs.

Until one day. I swear that the Old Man had had a flash of inspiration and that the evil fairy had firmly planted herself on his shoulder.

Picture the scene. There I am, up after bed time, having ignored the now standard call to Thatcher, sitting in the living room staring at the TV, secure in the knowledge that I was being bad.

The Old Man came in, a panicked look on his face. "Well Zapiola", he said, "you've fucking torn it now... Mrs. Thatcher has come to punish you for not going to bed on time." Outwardly I sniggered... but inside my bladder gave a slight lurch. "No", he said, "I'm telling the truth... look outside".

I went to the window and looked out through the curtains... there was a car. A big car. And getting out of the car, in the dusky light, was an elderly lady.

My heart leapt to my mouth, my knees started trembling, and tears started running from my eyes. The ogre was here to take me and punish me.

Crying I turned and fled from the room, frantically trying to rush upstairs to bed before she could get inside and see that I was not in bed.

I must've made it two or three steps up the stairs before my bladder voided itself and I became a sodden, urine smelling, crying mass. My dad was at the bottom of the stairs quite literally curled up on the floor crying with laughter.

I didn't know what to do. I was covered in piss and Thatcher would get me. I fled to the airing cupboard and hid in there, crying, for what must've been 30 minutes until my mother prised me out, put me in the bath and then put me to bed.

It turned out the lady I had seen was our next door neighbour coming back from going to the cinema in York. I never really trusted her again.

So yes, I was gullible, but in my defence I was 6 or 7 and naively believe that the people who had squirted me out would never resort to underhand psychological warfare in the ongoing bed time battle.

When they get old, they're going straight in a home. Preferably a draughty, unheated home which has a ban on alcohol. The ultimate irony is that Gordon Brown now scares my dad almost as much as Thatcher scared me.

Length, meh... I was 7!
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 19:00, Reply)

I got caught and have caught many since.
My own dad when i first started pub attendance got me with the bottle trick like a good `un.

in essence 2 empty bottles and one full of the same size. Sitting down, hold one above the other by the neck and tap the top one down.

Start with 2 empties

"now tap them together and listen, you hear the sound? it doesnt change, now put the full one underneath and listen carefully when you tap them together...."

Wet lap guaranteed, the beer froths out, sometimes as a proper fountain.

( note: extensive later testing seems to indicate the top bottle being empty and the same size matters. You can do it with mixers too. Coke is good, white shield, newky brown or good old light ale all do champagne impressions more often than a dribble)
(tootired Is searching for a funny sig, nothing good so far, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 18:46, Reply)

I was gullible enough to
believe the government and UCC laws were established for the greater good
and naive enough, at one time, to actually believe those presented to us as being in charge, where actually the ones in charge

'The Rulers of Evil' by Tupper Saussy
'Tragedy and Hope' by Prof. Carrol Quigley
(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Sat 23 Aug 2008, 18:41, 2 replies)