Busted
When I was 7 or 8 I went to play at my friend David's house. I knocked on the door and his mum let me in.

She called "David" up the stairs, not mentioning what she wanted. Before she had a chance to speak and before he saw me he blustered "but I didn't touch the video!"

His mum made me go home again while she considered his punishment; the video was fucked.
(zauron, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 17:59, Reply)

I used to go to school with a twitchy white lad from a garden suburb who facetiously claimed
a) that not only was he black, he was also from Compton, Los Angeles
b) that he had fought in Vietnam

and if you ever questioned these claims, he'd get into a real stressful McGregor and threaten to beat you up for "dissing" him.
To be honest, I'm not sure if he was a pathological liar or just trying desperately hard to be funny - either way, it didn't work.

It's people like this for whom the phrase "fucking twat" was just invented.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 17:07, Reply)

The guy featured in this week's question
used to say how brill a chef he was. "I made sous-chef* by age 19! Gordon Ramsay didn't make sous-chef until he was 30!"

Yes, but you work at TGI FRIDAYS. Twunt.

*second-in-command
(__, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 16:37, 3 replies)

An ex-gf
claimed that she had no bum-hole and therefore never ever farted. I made the mistake of treating this as - you know - a sort of joke.

But she was 100% serious. "Let's have a look then," I frequently asked.

"Nothing to see."

I suppose all the rumbling and rasping that went on after she fell asleep must have emanated from her fanny. And to think I used to put my willy in there...

[shudder]
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 16:09, 3 replies)

Pink Sock
I've got a gay mate who if believed would have the record for the most sex had by one person.
It started in college when myself and a few friends started a 'star system' for women instead of a blokes 'wing commander badges', you know with brown wings for anal, white wings for virgins, red wings for when they're on the blob. Now there were several targets, (none of which i met) starting with bronze at 25 lays, silver for 50, gold for 75, platinum for 100 etc etc. (I hung out with ummm....'sexually liberated' people you could say)
Simple enough you might think.
Within a month guess how many he had had? enough for silver. Within two months he was 'nearly' at gold.
Maybe I forgot to mention, he was ugly as sin, a taker and kept coming on to me when alcohol was involved (i'm a lesbian so netherless it didnt work)
Hence the name we game him.....pink sock in relation to a rather unpleasant situation that would have occurred if he was telling the truth.
Needless to say he never owned up to lying and the number of lays keeps increasing...wrong!!!


POP!!! There goes my cherry
(Tea and Cider is procrastinating assignments, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:40, Reply)

Stealing Wheels
Another gem from my favourite bullshitter:

At Uni again, and looking to make some extra cash, he and his friends drove around in their Transit van looking for cars with alloys to steal. They would then sell them on to his mate's garage.

Now this is enough bullshit as it stands, but this isn't where he decided the draw the line. Oh no.

You see, if you steal someone's wheel, they're going to know that it has happened on account that there car will probably be a struggle to drive the next morning. So to combat this, they took the wheel off the car they were stealing from, and replaced it with a normal wheel, so that they wouldn't notice.

So, to recap at this stage: They steal ONE wheel from the car, and replace it with a cheap one, so as to avoid the person noticing.

They then spend the rest of the night searching for THREE MORE cars to do the same to.

And how did they get around the problem of locking wheelnuts? They had a Master Key. Tosser.

Still, perhaps this is how the drug castle was funded.
(Her Ghost zomegle.com, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:33, 1 reply)

The many lies of Sasha
A girl called Sasha, one of my friends' fiance, is a compulsive liar. Being an only child born to rich parents, she is an attention hog, so she seems to have to make up drama in her life to make it more interesting/fucked up. Among the stranger lies she has told:

- Claimed that her ex somehow stole £666.66 from said friend's bank account, because he was bitter about them breaking up and doesn't like my friend. I asked my friend about it and he had no idea what she was talking about.

- One of the first times I met her, she told me that although she was entered into higher level maths for GCSE, she was predicted a D grade (those of us who have done higher level maths know that you can only be given A* to C, and that pretty much all you have to do to get a C is turn up to the exam!).

- Having had a gastric band put in to help her lose weight, she consistently claims that her stomach is now 'the size of a walnut' and that she can barely eat at all. When having a meal with us she will eat a tiny amount, then claim to be full - only to break out several packs of crisps from her bag about 20 minutes later.
(T.A.F.K.A. doctorsax http://www.badphorm.co.uk, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:22, 1 reply)

The Best House Party Ever
I used to work with a guy who spoke practically 100% pure bullshit.

He had constructed himself an illustrious past that painted him as the coolest person you could ever wish to meet.

Anyway, his best and, my favourite was the story that we refer to as the Drug Castle.

At Uni, he and his friends hosted the ultimate house party. As you entered the building, the ground floor was all alcohol. You always had to have a drink in your hand on the alcohol floor, and you couldn't go upstairs until you were completed ratted.

Once you had "graduated" the alcohol floor, you were allowed to go upstairs.

The first floor was the weed floor. Scores of people sat around smoking. There was no drinking here (because you were already drunk, remember?) just 100% pure weed. And, you guessed it, you can't leave the floor until you're completely stoned.

Then, you get to go upstairs.

The second floor was where all the hard drugs were. So, pissed and stoned, you were now lucky enough to be able to complete your perfect evening.


Over time we have embellished this story with additional floors and all sorts of debauchery, but the bit above is as close to the original as I can remember.

The story raises all sorts of questions, as I'm sure you're already reviewing. Such as: Whose house was this? Where did all the money come from? How many people made it to the second floor? And, did he honestly expect that building such a ridiculous lie would go unchallenged? Twunt.
(Her Ghost zomegle.com, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:20, Reply)

Sleep
In year 7, I told my friend George that when you go to bed, all the energy you didn't use in the day, is pushed out of your eyes in the form of sleep.

So if you eat your sleep, they are effectively little energy pills.

Well, he believed me, and ate his sleep every morning. But because I didn't see him wake up every day, I soon forgot.

Fast forward 4 years later, we are now in year 11, and I went camping with him. Well one morning we woke up and I saw him pick his eyes and eat the sleep.

Because I forgot, I asked him what the hell he was doing.

"Oh, energy is released through your eyes as sleep. Eat it and its like energy pills"

He responded with the exact same rubbish I told him 4 years earlier, and then it clicked.
(Kierz, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:13, Reply)

Oh christ
A woman I was involved with about 20 or so years ago had what we might call a rich and detailed fantasy life. Despite being built along Beth Ditto lines, she claimed to be part of a highly-secret clan of, for want of a better description, celtic ninjas based somewhere along the Irish border... The detail she used to go into was something else; they lived in a huge underground complex, parts of which had their roofs strengthened with stegosaurus bones, for example. Things kind of went west after we went to an SF convention and I was summoned from my bed late at night to rescue my 'wife' (as she had described herself) from the floor of the gents' toilets in the main con hotel, where she had passed out in an alcoholic stupor and a big pool of sick and wee. She INSISTED that I had to be there, since as the Romulan Ambassador to Earth, she was of too high a rank to be touched by civilians not known to her.

She would also occasionally affect an utterly bizarre pseudo-Scottish accent and claim to be her identical cousin, who would seamlessly take her place at home when she had to nip off and do ninja things in the secret ninja complex. You could easily tell them apart, however, as she informed me that her cousin suffered from a rare genetic condition and bled green as a result.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:13, 1 reply)

Personally
I don't think lies are the worst things in the world. I mean, if you told everyone exactly what you thought everyday, most of us would be in jail. I sound like a publicist for lies now don't I?

Making relationships possible since we were monkeys-Lies.
(SpiffyBalak, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 15:05, Reply)

Liar? Hmmm. Pathological? Almost certainly
You don't have to be a liar to tell falsehoods - you might just be very odd and unable to tell the difference between truth and fiction. Also, to lie implies an expectation of and hope for belief. So, preamble over, and inspired by some of the stories here, I present the story of A, who (surely) can neither have hoped for nor expected belief.

A was in my year at school and was undoubtedly the singularly most peculiar person I, or anyone else in the school, had ever met. He smelled terrible, never ate anything (he would spend lunchtime trying to give you his sausages...), was terrified of anyone female (not a problem in my school until the VI form, as it happened - we were single-sex for most subjects up until then), was terrified of nudity (he used to wear his games kit under his uniform, and put his uniform back on top after the lesson, for example; on the rare occasions he would deign to participate in swimming training - he couldn't swim, BTW - he would not remove his trunks afterwards)... I could go on. But this is a QotW about lying, and I wasn't a B3tan when the "wierd kid" question was open.

Where was I? Oh, yes. A's falsehoods. Two astonishing examples spring to mind, to wit:
1) He was, he claimed, white. The fact that he was clearly Indian, had an Indian name, and carried a photograph of himself looking glum with his extended Indian family in India made no difference to this. In fact, he would regularly make deeply racist remarks about non-whites just to demonstrate how white he was.
2) He had no penis. Most guys might lie about their penis, in the belief that bigger means better; castration is used as a taunt. But A was adamant that he didn't have one at all because he had been castrated. (It would explain his high voice, come to think of it...)

(He was consistent in his falsehood - he kept both these going from the time he came to the school in autumn 1990 until after we finished our A-Levels in 1995. Bizarre.)

His propensity to fabricate was matched only by his credulity. He had endless faith in the ability of John Major to win every election between then (the early-to-mid 1990s) and the end of his natural life; and when my friend B told A that most normal people had horns and a tail, which had to be filed down and hidden respectively, A believed him. He was studying A-level biology at the time. Mind you, the late Mrs F, the teacher of that class, corroborated B's story and expressed concern to A that he lacked these appendages.

I frequently google A to see what he's up to now... but he seems to have vanished off the face of the planet.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 14:21, Reply)

I met Bruce Lee's son on the Dublin Swift sailing back to Holyhead..
I'm always on my own when I travel to Ireland, so no worries with having conversations with others when I'm up on the top deck having a ciggie.

Trouble is, this guy was mentally unwell. Not only did he believe he was Bruce Lee's son (despite the dodgy manchester accent), but when I came back up onto the top deck for another ciggie 40mins later, he showed me a psp he had just stolen, and asked if there was anything I would like him to steal for me.

He latched onto me and also babbled something about his time in the SAS.

Every minute I was up there I was actually working out scenarios as to what to do if the fucking looney tried to push me overboard.

How the fuck are people like that allowed out on the streets, let alone boats!!
( knockear - I socialise with x-ray eyes. Jam on it!, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 14:10, Reply)

I have a GREAT story for this week
but I can't really talk about it, because they're going to make it into a TV series.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 13:23, Reply)

I'm a famous DJ!
One of my 'friends' at school spent some time claiming to be a DJ. When it was pointed out to him that the club he claimed to work at had no knowledge of him existing, he retorted: 'Yeah, well I use my stage name: Johnny Somthingorother!' (can't remember it exactly now).

A bit of research proved that Mr Somthingorother did indeed exist, and was indeed a famous DJ. He was also apparently dead. When this was pointed out, the response was quick: 'Err... I'm the new Johnny Somthingorother!'. Genius.

Of course we were all proved wrong when it turned out he had DJ'd at a big event. Assuming you count a 'silent disco' at the Leeds Festival a big event.
(Merrep, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 13:16, 1 reply)

vampires
when i was in drama club in school, i managed to convince the entire class that i was related to Dracula. not Vlad the Impaler, but Dracula, that's what i said his name was.
a class full of 14-year-olds actually believed that i was related to a fictional character.
fuckwits.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 12:40, Reply)

guy i went to school with
since we were about 14 he's always claimed that he's a scriptwriter. he always has a pile of notebooks with him that none of us can see, because steven spielberg (whom he lunches with) asked he keeps his work quiet.

notable incidents include him telling us he had a copy of mission impossible 4 on dvd, just before mi2 came out, and when nobody had dvd players. and apparently he's working on the script for xmen 7 now. he's 20 now, and none of us actually know what he does.

while we've learnt to ignore just about everything he says, it's surprising how many people believe him when they meet him
(salvadorbones, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 12:35, 1 reply)

Behind enemy lines "in Gulf 1"
I used to work with a guy who claimed to have been in the RAF. Which was believable.

But he told some story about being based in the British Embassy in Berlin, where he and some other military bods were responsible for tracking down internet paedophiles. Apparently, they had a licence from the German government which meant they were allowed to possess kiddie porn.

Another day, he started going on about being dropped behind enemy lines "in Gulf 1" to rescue a downed Tornado crew (or was it to destroy the aircraft? Can't remember) and he was going on and on. When he paused for breath, I said "I used to be in the Swiss Navy." He said "Any good?" to which I replied "It was all right."
(Bob the Builder killed Captain Alex, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 12:10, 2 replies)

Parents
I do believe about this time of year a LOT of parents lie to their children, maybe using said lie as a form of blackmail to encourage "nice" behaviour from their offspring, in exchange for material reward.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 11:34, Reply)

witness
my friend sarah had an accident in a public car park once. it was not her fault and she asked one of the many passers-by if he would be a witness.

of course he would, and so she took his details, crawled back into her broken car through the boot, and drove home. where she had to wait for her boyfriend to let her out.

a few weeks later, she needed help from the witness.

"yeah, sorry, can't help you."

"but you saw it," sarah protested.

"i know, but i'm on tour with kylie minogue at the moment."

wtf?

"i just rang you on a stockport landline," said sarah.

"no no, we're in new york, it's wild, man, kylie's wild."

"but kylie isn't on tour at the moment."

"she keeps hitting on me, man"

"but... but... she's in hospital. with breast cancer. in LONDON."

"gotta go, show's kicking off and they need me dancing at the front of the stage."

"but it's 8am in america... and you must weigh 19 stone and couldn't dance if your life depended on it..."

poor sarah. without the witness, the other insurance company wouldn't cough up!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 11:23, Reply)

UNI again
Never understood why Ian at Uni claimed these two things:
1) That he had never learnt to ride a bike, or
2) That he couldn't read the time on a clock/watch.

I mean, there's lies that boast, like I shagged Tina Turner, and then there are pointless lies that just make you think, 'bollocks'.

Oh, he was a scouser...
(reknaw, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 11:06, 7 replies)

Anyone for golf?
When I was just 8 years old my dad made me take up golf. My friend Adam, not to be outdone, decided that he too was a keen golfer. Unfortunately I wasn't allowed to see his clubs as they were kept in the cellar.

"What's your favourite club then?" I asked.
"Um... the sand bunker."

Always stuck with me
(jacob, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 10:53, Reply)

I have a good friend
(lets call him Cam) and it is extremely difficult to tell when he's being serious or just taking the piss. We have a habit of seeing what things we can tell people which are sometimes just stupid then laughing about it later on.

Some of my favorites from him are:

- Cattle grids were originally invented to stop gypsies from stealing cattle. They didn't know what they were so the gypsies would just run into them and break their legs.

- The government is starting to send dried water to 3rd world countries. All they have to do now to get water is open these packets, and add water.

- He's managed to convince a ridiculous number of people that a friend of ours is in fact gay and is addicted to eating fudge. If he doesn't get his fudge on an hourly basis he'll hurt people. (This person is now known as Fudge)

- Bread wasn't introduced to France until the Second World War.

- He told everyone someone in our group had won the lottery, that's why he wasn't at school. (He in fact got kicked out for his lack of attendance)

- More recently he told a very self conscious member of our circle of friends he had yellow skin round his eyes. He then ran around asking everyone if he had yellow skin round his eyes. He was convinced people were lying when they said "no".

They just keep coming.
(MutantSixtyFour isn't doing his work on, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 10:43, Reply)

It's ALWAYS the fat ginger girls
I wrote lists for the two particular girls involved, but they mirrored each other, so in a nutshell it comes down to:

Rape, abortion, miscarriage, borderline-alcoholism, leukemia, Rolls Royces, council estates, inheritance, miracle cures for cancer, sitting in cafes all day rather than going to the fabulous job you claim you have - but for me?

The piece de resistance was going skiing with one of the aforementioned fat munters.

I was quite apprehensive about the trip despite me being instructor level. The girl in question rolled off a list of resorts & runs she'd accomplished and I didn't know if I was going to be able to keep up - it'll be a challenge I thought. So we arrived at the resort and I probably should've realised something was up when she tried to put her ski on the wrong way round...

I decided the best course of action would be to hit a little green run to get our ski legs back. After approximately 400m I gave up and called in ski patrol to rescue her. They brought her down in a skidoo because apparently all her ligaments were torn. Not because she was a lying spaz. I made her sign up for beginner lessons.

I also made her phone her parents to cough up her share of the hotel bill when her credit card mysteriously wouldn't go through due to "office politics".

Fat ginger slag.

Funny thing is, I rarely tell people about my experiences because they are so "extraordinary" that people would assume I'm lying anyway - I've dated spies, worked for the mafia - life is out there kids, just go out and grab it!
(betty_bongo, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 10:35, Reply)

V-Plates
Mate of mine, will be known as "Jan" (not quite his name) claimed to have popped his V plates whilst on his hols at his aunties. Already we are doubting the veracity of this tale, but then he carries on the tale and it ends up with her declaring her undying love for Jan, him telling her he must go back to The Midlands soon, so there love is a thing which can never be...her reply "Oh Jan you are such a Bastard. Dont ever change".
At this point we are pissing orselves laughing.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 9:47, Reply)

Not too sure about this one
Used to work with a bloke called Luigi, who claimed -

1. He was born and raised in Alexandria, Egypt.

2. He had gone to art school there and learned to paint in oils and watercolours, portraits, landscapes, still life, murals, you name it.

3. He fought in the Six Day War against the Israelis. They marched out into the Sinai Peninsula, sat there ten days, saw nothing then were recalled to find that they had lost. He said it was very hot there.

4. On moving to Australia he had lived in northern New South Wales and he had taken up clay pigeon shooting. He claimed to have a lot of trophies for this.

Yes, Luigi, we believe you. Thousands wouldn't, but we do.

One day he asked me to give him a ride home as his car was being fixed. It was one street out of my way so of course I did. he said "Come in for a cold beer". So of course I did. There was a case in the living room filled with trophies for clay pigeon shooting, competitions in northern New South Wales towns. Engraved in his name.

There were artists materials in one room and picture framing equipment in a shed. Later I found he was teaching colour theory at a local college and is now known as a muralist. I have bought two landscape oils of his.

Was he Alexandrian? Did he fight in the Six Day War? We'll never know.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 8:58, 1 reply)

When you are on to a good thing, stick to it.
As a kid I had a neighbour "C" who lived a few doors away but never spoke to us. I found out why, one day when I was about 14. He once had squired my mother's sister about for a few months and things had got pretty serious, an engagement was being considered. That was in 1946 - 47. He claimed to have been a genuine Tobruk Rat but when it emerged that he had never even been in the army my aunt told him to clear off.

In 1979 I was working back not too far from the old home town and one of the new hires was telling us about the guy at his last work boring the pants off the staff with his reminiscences of Tobruk. Yes, it was "C".

Length - At least 33 years telling the same old lie.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 8:27, Reply)

Ol' army stories
So I met bloke at a friends wedding , we met at the stag, he seemed very nice and he gave me his mobile , we met with a few other mates of ours at the pub , He regaled us with his army stories of how he had been in kosavo and how he had fought Muslims in street battles and how he was still in the Ta and that he was based in Cambridge. Hmm straight away i didn't say anything later on I turned to my friend Dan and said well that was a load of shit I'm actually in the Ta and I'm based at cambridge otc (I was a student) this tosser did not know anything of army life except what he had read from well wikipedia. he reeked of tosser so we set about
trying to get him to tell the truth til in the end I actually lost my temper with him and said "for fuck sake stop lying you prick, I'm in otc in cambridge , and your not ta and you never have been). He was very offended and left. I later found out that he tried to join but was kicked out because he was unsuitable. WTF is wrong with these so called ex army people , my ta career consisted of me sitting in a wet field every so often and being in a signals truck doing jack shit. the only thing I ever did was Operation Essential Harvest, in which I was shot at once by a pissed off farmer(we ran into his fence).
( Super piat I am the owl, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 6:50, 1 reply)

maltese royalty
a girl i unfortunately went to school with, maryssa (for that was her name) told us that:

- she left her old school because she kept getting A's and it wasn't challenging enough
- she has cystic fibrosis
- she was gang-raped and got pregnant from it
- and then had a botched abortion
- she was maltese royalty (she was, in fact, italian)
- she was gay, and her catholic family tried to exorcise her because of it

the last one annoyed me the most, not because of the gay (i love the gays, being one myself)but because she was constantly trying to steal (now) ex-mrs emily bronte off me.
she could have her now, if she still wanted her!
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Sat 1 Dec 2007, 5:37, Reply)