all girls schools breed these....
Ah, Gina...

A few years ago, I was friends with a girl at school named Gina. Gina had an American professional snowboarder boyfriend. Who was ten years older than her (she was 13). And dumped a cheerleader he had been with for 4 years to be with her (she looked like a bullfrog).

Also, at one point, she had another 6 boyfriends. All called Danny apparently.

The real kicker was that I was into this local band at the time. They were local, but still quite famous. She immediately claimed to have known them for 'ages', that the singer was her uncle and that she was dating the trumpet player. (Who was knocking on for 30).

The real kicker came when she claimed to have seen Queen, with Freddie Mercury, about 4 times. She was born in 1991.


Then we had Hannah...

Hannah apparently got engaged to her boyfriend... fair enough, but we were asked to not mention it to him... and then she apparently got beaten up and mugged in town for the ring. When an identical one fell out of her pocket the next day, we were politely informed that the insurance company had already paid up and an identical one had been found...


There was also a girl I wasn't friends with, but was well known for this. She had 'panic attacks' (which constituted of her breathing heavily until everyone looked at her). She was pregnant then miscarried at least 5 times (between the ages of 13-15). Oh, and she was a 'witch'.

And another girl, whose name I shall refrain from mentioning, not because I am still friends with her, but because she (alas) remains a FOF. Anyways. She claimed to like any bands anyone mentioned, and she seemed to have been to see most of them play (again, she was 13). Nobody believed me when I pointed out the obvious discrepancies in her stories, so I proved it by making her the 'Pickled Raspberries' number one fan. Until I pointed out that I'd just made it up.

The final girl I can think of at the moment I shan't name because I am still kinda friends with her. Conversations with her used to go like this:

Monday
Me: Alright xxx?
xxx: Yeah, I'm really excited, I'm off to see the White Stripes tonight!
Me: They're shit. Where you off to see them?
xxx: Oh...umm...Manchester....

Tuesday
Me: How was the gig?
xxx: Oh, I didn't go.
Me: Whyever not?
xxx: I got grounded.
Me: What did you do?
xxx: My....uhm....oh...you know what my mum's like....

And repeat, inserting a different band, for a year. She also kept on having auditions for RADA and the National Youth Theatre, despite never having to take a day off school to audition, and being completely devoid in the talent deaprtment...

Moral of the story? Never believe anything a teenager at an all girls school tells you. Their lives revolve around gossip.

Length? About 5 years, I got out of that hellhole when I was 16...
(BelladonnaAnodyne Melissa's gonna wet herself, I swear..., Thu 29 Nov 2007, 19:04, 1 reply)

Polish Princess
In most classes at school you get the 'weird kid'. And during primary and secondary school, that weird kid was someone I'll call Sam, for that was her name. She had a piss poor homelife, her mother was an absolute skank beast of a woman (who had the hots for my old man), and her eldest brother was arrested this year for kiddy fiddling.

Anyway, Sam used to tell the most incredible lies. I suppose it was in an attempt to be liked amongst her peers. She claimed that she was a Polish princess, and that she was betrothed to some smexy Polish prince, the name who I forgot. In the summer holidays, they apparently went to Poland and went to the lakes and did romancey crap like that. I think she even mentioned that they did the dirty.

She even had supposed letters from him, which she would show us briefly, but not let us read them. I think she said she had a photo, but that it got 'accidentally destroyed'.

I'm pretty sure she also mentioned that she would be in line for the throne if so and so people died, some jizz like that anyway. Of course everyone took the piss out of her for this, even her few friends (one of which was me). No matter what we'd point out to her, she'd insist that it was all true, and run off in a huff/sulk because we didn't believe her.

That was the biggest lie I remember her telling, but I just know that there were heaps more. I think she claimed she did magic once, but sadly my memories of that time include more on my awesome friends, as mean as that sounds.

Length? Not much longer until you get on the throne, princess.
(Wheeler back off Amazon, she's mine!, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:53, Reply)

X and his conversation stopping bullshit
A close runner up to the legendary Doug is this guy. I won't name him because he's actually a nice chap. Like Doug, he has his self esteem issues, but unlike Doug X posesses a conscience and will never steal the limelight.

Anyway X is an only child. A thoroughly nice and highly intelligent chap who has quite an obvious inferiority complex with people. I speak with a certain degree of guilt because I too used to take the piss out of X during his moments of being somewhat "realistically challenged", however he'd always be the very first to offer sympathy and support during times of crisis and this fact oft went unrecognised during recrimination over his frequent shit talking.

God, the shit talking...

I suppose it started when we left school. Sixth form was a different ballgame and X wanted to fit right in. However, goodwill was in short supply when the bollocks started which spurred him on to greater claims.

The fact that at 17 he'd never kissed a girl was shameful for him. He'd be the first to berate the other guys who hadn't managed this milestone yet in an act of blatant irony, but he didn't help his cause by trying too hard to appear cool to his mates. Hence statements like "Uh, I really want to get off with that bird over there" - with the ephasis on "burrrrrrd!" at eighty decibels. Or even the statement "Ah, I'd bone that!". One can only imagine how a lady's heart can be melted under such a charm offensive.

Some notable attempts to look cool consisted of:

a) Phoning me up and telling me he was coming round to pick me up and take me to the pub in his mate's Toyota Supra, upon which X was insured to drive because he was "such a good mate". Strangely no sign of X or the Supra.

b) Any night out with X would usually involve the sentence "I wonder if Lawrence/Gareth/Ricky is out tonight?". When anyone retorted with "X, who the fuck is Lawrence/Gareth/Ricky?", X would respond with "Uh, one of my London/Basildon/Romford bods". We quickly learned to reply with "Ah, right".

c) Claiming to own a copy of and included in his "set" any rave track being played at the time (okay, this was 1991!). This latter point proved highly irritating when out in a nightclub with X asking each of us if we'd heard "Gardeners World Rave" or somesuch.

Each of these minor precipitations of horse faeces was viewed in the context that X's heart was in the right place. However is piece de resistence came on 24th July 1993, during a friend's summer BBQ. The sheer enormity of the lie was such that the date is forever etched in my mind.

I'd turned up bearing my regulation eight cans of Luftwaffe lager and a brand new denim shirt. "Nice shirt!" commented one of my lady pals as she walked past and playfully undid a couple of the poppers.

"Uh. I get all my clothes flown out from a mate in New York" opined X.

At this point there were a few glances exchanged but we continued in conversation, having chosen to ignore X's statement out of politeness.

My burgers grilled, I retrieved them from the bbq and applied the requisite "Maggi Hot Chilli Sauce" to my burger and that of another partygoer (also female).

"That's fucking good chilli!" she replied, having taken a bite.

Seeing an opportunity, X went for gold.

"Uh. I get my chilli sauce flown out from a mate in the West Indies".

X realised that in a moment of madness he'd just deluged the entire table with a tonne of well matured horseshit, snuffing the sanctity of conversational background noise in doing so. Eight other mouths went silent, agape in shellshock at such a brazen bullshit barrage. The bullshit horse had bolted and X knew it. The expression on X's face was such that he realised that he'd have made less of a cunt of himself had he unzipped his fly and waved his old boy around in the middle of the patio.

"Uh... Uh...." he started to say, desperate to fill the conversational void with an anecdote which would blot the collective memory of his WMD grade arse-speak. But words wouldn't flow. Nothing filled the hellish void. None of us present even attempted to bale X out, so we waited out the conversational void en masse until the beads of sweat began to form on X's reddening forehead.

"So, anyway..." we continued, without a smirk or guffaw. The relief on X's face was palpable. He'd gotten away with it and escaped ridicule.

Until an unseen passerby exclaimed:

"Simple X, you're talking crap" and continued on his merry way.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:52, Reply)

Bindun?
I used to go to church.....
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:49, Reply)

Gary...again
Remember, he was a fat bastard. Honestly. Coke Machine is not the nickname someone acquires by being sveldt.

Auto's: His Father bought him a Ferrari kit car and it was in the garage being built on a Corvette frame. He didnt tell this one directly to me, so I made it a point to mention that I was thinking about pushing my Father for a new car and asked if he had any suggestions. He piped up: "My Parents ordered me a Ferrari kit car, but it got lost in shipping and is somewhere in Brazil right now. The Postal service is working on straightening that out."

Gary on Women
Apparently he had a girlfriend, but she lived in Canada. I kid you not. He met her while visiting his Cousins up there and they got it on pretty quickly. He was there for a week and they "did it" 23 times. Why 23 you may ask? He had 2 one-dozen boxes of condoms and "one broke because they were really meant for someone smaller, you know, down there." (you've got to give the dumbass credit for being creative!)

Fat Farm. Yep. His Parents sent him to one. And he freaked out after three days and they had to have his parents come get him...not because of a caloric withdrawal...he was taking "Alot of Motrins" and started freaking out and they have a 'no tolerance drug program there.'
(In case you dont know, Motrin is a mild pain reliever)

More to come!
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:45, Reply)

Sonic
A guy that I (unfortunately) knew (in year 5), was determined that his uncle drew/created Sonic the Hedgehog.

He even had a way to prove it to us.
He'd get his uncle to draw some original artwork and date it so that we knew he wasn't bullshitting.

The next day he bought this fabulous "artwork" in!

It was shit!
He'd blatantly drew it himself.
He'd run out of blue pencil so tried to make blue by colouring half of sonic a yellowy-green colour.
He also got the date wrong.
(doris_day, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:44, Reply)

misheard
Being a blind computer programming genius, I wrote my own screen-reader software. However, when hearing this new QOTW, I couldn't think of any anecdotes regarding pathology colliers.

Length? fun-sized..
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:44, Reply)

Not pathological as such,
but a (white, English) flatmate once convinced me that he was part of the Hong Kong ultimate frisbee team. (Their pool of players is small, so tourists are welcome to play if they are good enough, he said.) He maintained the subterfuge for two years, until we chucked a frisbee around one day and discovered he threw like a girl.

I called him a liar, but he quite fairly pointed out that it was an utterly ridiculous thing to claim and I was a twat for believing it.

A minicab driver in London also once persuaded me he was African footballer of the year some time in the 1980s. He wasn't.

Anyone need to move some money out of Nigeria? I'll let you use my bank account...
(silencer, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:39, Reply)

My brother and sister....
are quite older than me...they used to tell me I was in "Grange Hill" as a baby.

These lies built up and up until I found my self acting like a minor celebrity in school. My bubble was burst however when I started recalling hilarious anecdotes from "on set".....Only to be reminded "but you were a baby though...how do you remember it?"

Ahhh....the bastards made me believe their lie and then spawn more lies on my own!

(They also told me that cats could once fly)
( MrGomez and David Bellamy's big pubey beard, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:36, Reply)

there's a lad...
...at my school who claims that:
1) he's related to william the conqueror
2) he's related to the queen (and went for a curry with her)
3) is related to JFK (his surname is also, Kennedy)
4) he's been shot 5 times (well, i believe 5. he forgets the number...)
5) he's been hit by a bus...and a steamroller.

needless to say, he's dyslexic.
(Emily's Pet Badger Because I Move Like An Arctic Lizard, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:35, Reply)

Fucking research centres
I used to work with this absolute BITCH of a woman. She would sit there barking commands at me all day long, while I literally jumped through loops for her.

She always dangled rewards over my head for following her orders. These rewards were complete bullshit of course, and I continued to work for absolutely nothing.

By the end of my time working with her, I dont know whether I hated the bitch, or actually felt sorry for her miserable life, cooped up in the building all day, barking orders constantly. It must be hard to be so hated.

Nevertheless, I made it quite public how I felt about never receiving my reward. So I caught a knife, and began carving into the wall;

The cake is a lie
The cake is a lie
The cake is a lie
The cake..
(' or 1=1 --, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:32, 6 replies)

Oh, I have many.
In my life I have been unfortunate enough to know three increasingly pathological liars. The first of these is of course Stalker Boy, and some of his gems have included:

- Being from Africa in a past life (he attempted to prove this by saying he drew a map of Africa as a child)
- Being on the Titanic in a past life (strangely, this memory only surfaced after repeated viewings of the James Cameron movie...)
- Having seen a ghost in Austria
- Someone in his family whose house was haunted saw SOMETHING that was so awful that not even Stalker Boy could describe it.
- He pretended to have gone on holiday with his cousin to France when actually he was too ashamed to admit he'd gone with the class geek from the year above
- The year I was forcibly introduced to him, he told me he lived on a farm and owned one of every animal ever, including tarantulas (which he is actually terrified of)
- His mum has had 3 maiden names to my knowledge.
- He lied so many times and to so many people about whether he was gay or not that my brain ended up in a knot.

I have more from others, so Gaz me if your curiosity has not been exhausted...
( Maladicta, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:12, Reply)

I used to work with a guy called Lee at a small IT company
who was...unusual, to say the least. He had a number of problems, including rampant racism, sexism and a disfigured face due to an operation to remove a tumour. He was tolerated by most of the guys in the office, none of the girls, and I was about the only person there who would ever go out for a beer with him because, well, he seemed genuinely down on his luck and I'm a sucker for a sob story.

Anyway, around the office he used to tell some pretty outrageous stories, like how when he was 17 he was second in the country at karate or how he'd been to a gold mine in South Africa, his house that he grew up was haunted and he could *prove* it because his mum and sister would back him up, that kind of thing. He would boast of his fighting prowess at karate, despite being five foot nothing and probably weighing less than a sparrow. Eventually everyone in the office took what he said with a grain of salt and he even acquired the nickname of "Lightning Fists Lee", since he talked up his achievements so much.

One night I went out for a few beers with him near Liverpool Street (one of the strangest nights of my life, we bumped into this white power 'Merkin straight out of American History X, and I'm still not 100% sure it was a coincidence) and after getting ratted we ended up going back to his for a spliff as it was nearby. Towards the end of the night, he pulled out a box of stuff from under his bed, turned to me and said: "I know you guys don't believe what I say, but I'll prove it to you," and proudly produced a certificate that stated he had won a silver medal at the national karate championships, and another touristy "certificate" that said he had been on a tour of a gold mine in South Africa. Turns out it was all true, the sad thing was how incredibly proud he was of these events that must have happened ten years previously, and how he'd pretty much done nothing of note since then.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:09, Reply)

My Great-Grandfather invented the safety-pin
according to my Gran.

And we're related to Robert Falcon Scott. And we should own half of Scotland and all of Northumberland but for some unidentifiable relative who drank / gambled / whored it all away.

She also claimed to speak Gaelic, but never did because it was 'illegal'.

Her attic was haunted... by dead budgies.

The mad old bat died when I was 10, but I can't remember any of the other twaddle she used to come away with.

My cock is 14 inches when flaccid.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:08, Reply)

i am one
this is the best question of the week ever, in fact as soon as i saw it when i got in from work i was over joyed at the ammount of amazing stories i would be emphatically telling friends all week.

Gosh, B3TA you are spoiling us
(norcomark CNUT abbreviation for CANUTE, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 18:00, Reply)

Oh So Many...
I have so many stories for this! And they all revolve around one guy.... we shall call him...well, Butlin. It *is* his name.

Anyway, Butlin is one of the biggest liars I know. Many is the time that my college mates and I been subjected to the utter load of bullshit he spouts.

A couple of the most memorable being:

-That he went around a roundabout at 80 miles an hour on two wheels in his driving instructors car
- He owns a state-of-the-art blueray/dvd player with built in digital (which was told back when blueray was first introduced, so I highly doubt it)
- He heard that I was shagging four guys at once (turns out *that* was a rumor he was trying to start)
- One of my ex's mates beat him up for hitting on me (sadly a lie)
- He had six girlfriends on the go and they all went to my college (he's ugly as sin)

Although my personal favourite is still that he has it on very good authority that the majority of the Lord Of The Rings movies were actually filmed in the Brecon Beacon mountains. And why? Because Tolkein wanted them filmed there, because Wales is so much like Middle Earth.

Deflated that one rather rapidly by pointing out that a) LotR was filmed in NZ, b) Tolkein has been dead for many a year and 3) "if there was a major Hollywood film crew/Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean/Peter Jackson in the Brecon Beacons (which are about a 15 minute drive from where I live), don't you think I'd know about it?"

Jackass.

Length? Hand me that microscope and I'll tell you.
(TuftyBee should have been working on, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:59, Reply)

Can't remember if I've posted this one before
but when my sister worked in a bar back in Walsall I used to go and hang out there if I was up from London for the weekend. One time this group of very good-looking (and quite obviously gay) guys came in together and started buying lots of expensive drinks. Naturally she got chatting to them and asked what they were doing in Walsall.
"Oh, we're working over in Birmingham," one of them replied. She asked what kind of business they were in.
"We're web developers" he replied, and went on to give details of the "projects" they had been working on.
"Oh that's cool," my sister said. "Come and meet my brother, he's a web developer just up from London for the weekend," and she called me over. At this point a panicked look shot across their faces.
"Er...we're not web developers at all," he had to admit. "We're a boy band."

I don't know what's more embarrassing, being in a boy band (called "Doin' It", FFS) or pretending to be a web developer to cover it up. Still, they were good fun and we had a great night once their cover had been blown.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:54, 3 replies)

Me
I once had to tell loads and loads of small but pleasant lies to a woman.

It was hard work going out with Stevie Nicks.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:52, 4 replies)

same asshole, different crap.
regarding this story, the colleague mentioned here has come up with a new lie, which several of us have noticed.

she's been offered a new job, but is scared to take it, as it will mean leaving london. fair enough. however, her excuse is that the money she has been offered isn't enough. now this would be believable, except that 7 people have heard a different amount that the offered salary is out by, from £1000 less a year to £8000 less a year. plus that, she has told me her current salary on 3 occasions in the past year, and it has had a range of over £10,000 from the lowest to the highest she has told me.

again, why the need to embellish? i don't give a crap, i don't have a salary, i'm writing up my phd thesis* just now - it just came up in discussion.

strange woman.

*this may not be entirely true since i discovered b3ta...
( ascorbate, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:50, Reply)

My Sister
Bless her. She posts on here so I'll keep it short.

When we were younger I used to tell her all sorts of shit and gullible as she was believed me.

My 'coup de gras' was telling her that a Grouse was a furry fish. I fished alot back then and told her I'd even caught one.

She believed that one for well over a year...

lol

no length
none at all
(never-right -getting it wrong since '78, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:46, Reply)

my "mate" marc
he is the biggest bullshitter of fishering i've ever known!
for example
"this guy caught a tiger shark and it dragged him up and down the beach on his bum"
oh.... ok...
this is one of the reasons we have made up many a tale about a bent pin, a ham sandwich and the millions of fish he would have caught if we invited him to go fishing with us (he owns/brings 150,000 rods fishing with him and we never catch ANYTHING!)
"if marc where he, he would have caught all the fish by now" - "yea with a bent pin and a ham sandwich" - "he doesnt need a rod - he just thinks it and all the fish jump ashore" etc etc
anyways
fish!
( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:39, Reply)

Called a complete stranger a liar!
We were looking in the window of a shop in Brighton when a bloke stood next to us said to his lass; 'of course I used to have all the Star Wars toys but my mum gave them to the boy next door'.
Hubby turns to him and says 'thats bull and you know it. And she's not impressed either'.

Whenever you watch one one these 'remember the 70's programmes someone always says 'I had the Star Wars toys buy my mum gave them to my cousin'. It's given a chorus of Bullshit here.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:37, 8 replies)

I know a big one.
There used to be a guy who drank in my local called ‘Bill the Liar’ – he was in all senses a big fat liar.

Grandiose, sad, pointless, bizarre, - his lies ran the whole gamut, just about everything he said was a lie:

Pointless – for over a year he would leave the pub early on Sundays, explaining that he had to drive to Slough, stay in the Travel Lodge, so he could be up bright and early for the job he had there. Every Sunday we’d walk past his house on the way home, to see his car parked outside, occasionally catching a glimpse of him through the living room window.

Sad – He lied to his wife for months saying he’d saved up money for a much needed family holiday. Keeping up the pretence right up to the point of going to the travel agent, his wife excitedly spending an hour choosing the perfect holiday. He then reached for his back pocket and exclaimed “oh no! the money’s gone, it must have fallen out of my pocket”….nice

Grandiose- One evening he winced rubbing the small of his back. After a short while he explained that his bad back was due to an injury he picked up during his army days. Getting lifted out of a ‘hot LZ’ in the jungle he fell back out of the ‘chopper’. If it wasn’t for his rucksack he would have been paralyzed. There was too much enemy fire for them to come back for him, it took him three days to walk out. – there where people in the pub who had known him since school. At no point had he been in the army.

Bizarre-. He told a load of people that his wife had breast cancer, which came as a shock to her when a friend called to see how she was.

Saddest of all: He faked a school report and brought it to the pub to show everybody. A few sheets of printed A4 folded in half describing an athletic prodigy, captaining all the sports teams and one of the greatest minds of our time. Who new that schools where using inkjet printers in the Late 70's???

Summaries of his other memorable lies;

Massive Heart Attack
Champion Boxer
12 pints in an hour.
The Queen driving an Austin Maxi
I brought it back to life
I found it on the beach and it belonged to my great grandfarther.

and on and on and on
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:30, 3 replies)

Gary
I went to high school with a guy named Gary. I wont post his last name, but he was a large, fat, pathological liar and on our high school (American) football team, which he tried out for every year, he was known as "Coke Machine" because he drank copious amounts of the stuff and his physical shape resembled a Coke machine.

So anyway, I think because he was so large, he felt he needed to fit in with the rest of the guys. Plus, it was a private Catholic school and everyone was constantly going on about how much they had.

Some of his whoppers:

His Grandfather owned the Chris Craft Company (a MAJOR US boat maker)and as a nipper he used to help his Grandpa design boats. Apparently his Grandfather lost the company in a card game.

Despite his large frame (about 280lbs at 5'10") he was constantly getting laid, especially in Hawaii. So you should NEVER go to Hawaii without at least a 1 dozen box of condoms.

His Uncle was a Green Beret over in Beruit and Gary was nice enough to train him in various martial arts, thereby increasing his leg strength considerably. Whilst playing soccer over there, he kicked the ball so hard it went "over the enemy lines" and had to be retrieved. One other Green Beret jumped "the fence" and grabbed the ball and was immediately shot by a SOVIET (?!) sniper. His Uncle jumped "the fence" and recovered the wounded soldier, carried him across the fence and then realized he forgot the ball. Just as he was INCHES from retrieving it, the same sniper (apparently they could 'see' him) put a round into the ball...in a communist ploy to deny the Capitalist soldiers from enjoying the game. The other soldiers in the unit, being so appreciative for Gary having taught ALL of them how to kick better with Tang Su Do and other martial arts, Signed the ball and sent it to him, from Soviet occupied Beruit.

(I SWEAR to GOD this is the story exactly as he told it!)

His OTHER Uncle was a PGA Golf Pro and taught Gary how to play the game. This story was told DAYS before the gym class was playing golf. He was, without a doubt, the single worst golfer in my class.

There are more, but I will post them later...TONS MORE (pun intended)

Citadel
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:29, Reply)

I'm a liar
I'm always lying, even when it is unnecessary.

I'm told that when I was 5 I was asked why there was half a chocolate cake missing from the fridge.

"fridge birds", I said, and left it at that.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:22, 6 replies)

It's time I owned up to this...

Pooflake is not my real name.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:11, 6 replies)

Doug
For some reason I am "blessed" with having known several epic bullshitters of Blair-esque proportions. I will recount the tales here no doubt, but I'll start with the most deserving recipient of public humiliation first. Ladies and gentlemen I give you Douglas. A man with a pathological aversion to reality. A bullshitter par excellence.

During my first year of A Levels I used to frequent the Colchester Town House to while away the free periods and lunchbreaks by playing pool and watching MTV with a group of about seven of eight of us. One afternoon, one of the chaps brought a new mate along called Doug who was apparently an ex college student studying an "inbetween-A-Levels-and-degree-type-course" at the Colchester Institute. Doug seemed like a funny guy, a great storyteller and seemingly knew everyone.

Wierd thing was that I'd been at college a year already resitting and had no memory of the guy whatsoever. No matter, my sixth form was a large college of some 1700 students and it was impossible to know everyone. He apparently knew my face, so I didn't give it a second thought.

Anyway, Doug had led a very colourful life, having moved to our town some three years before after some nasty business with a dead girlfriend and moving back in with his parents and doing his A Levels in a year etc. All very tragic, but in his words he didn't let it get to him. Kinda inspirational I suppose. Anyway, he still seemed like a nice guy so we enjoyed hanging out with him.

We'd sit and console him when the nasty dead girlfriend business seemed to be getting him down and offer a comforting cigarette. He'd respond with many gushing tributes in return about how we were all really decent people and that he was eternally in our debt.

He even took to meeting up with us in the college, as being an ex student he knew his way around and was familiar with many of his ex tutors - always a perennial topic of discussion. He would join in the banter of how Geoff Floydd played the guitar on the last day of term, how John Edwards kept students rapt during Physics with his melodic Welsh diction and how Tim Harrison was always to be found in his cupboard playing "Dungeon Master" instead of teaching Computing.

However, the moment one of us reached into our pocket, ostensibly to retrieve a cigarette, Doug's eyes would be darting around like a rabbits. "Would you like a cigarette?" would always be followed with "Yes please! Will sort you out in a couple of days when I get paid".

Being half-Danish he had apparently gotten himself a driving license after spending a summer in Copenhagen with family friends known as the "Mullers". Doug kindly offered to drive us all to an out of town flea pit for late night drinking and had gone so far as to phone around priming folk.

However, Doug was beginning to cause some controversy. His stories were repetitious, despite supposedly getting paid, his refunds at the tobacco account were not forthcoming. Nor were the mythical lifts to pubs on nights out. As a friend he was failing to deliver and starting to sponge.

Morevoer, any group discussion on any given subject would result in Doug responding with "Ah that reminds me of the time I..." followed by the sudden death of conversation.

Then there was the sudden realisation amongst all my friends that none of us recognised Doug from college the previous year. Someone piped up "Well, Doug was in the year below me at school!". Hmm. I took Doug to one side and challenged him outright. Apparently, Doug was badly dyslexic and this kept back a couple of years. However, by late 1989 he'd made sufficient progress to be accepted into college to study his A Levels. Which he'd passed, grade As all round of course.

After hearing a lengthy tribute to Doug's lamented Mini Cooper S (in which his girlfriend was supposed to have died, Marc Bolan style). We sat down and did the maths... Started college in '89... Sat A Levels in '91... Nineteen years old... Owned three cars... Lived "Up North" for a while... Spent a summer in Copenhagen learning to drive... Hmm....

More concerning was the incident when a drunken Doug (who naturally posessed the alcohol tolerance of an elephant) fell flat on his face in an nightclub. This was put down to an epileptic fit, as Doug apparently suffered epilepsy for years. He was all right though and apparently safe to drive us all home from the party he was throwing the following weekend.

Then it all started to fall apart for Doug. He started to date one of the girls we knew and the balloon of bollocks was burst. She liked him, but refused to cover up for his monumental shit talking. Thing is, Doug was a nice guy, he really was okay and accepted by all until he started to talk through his arse. She sat him down and explained this to him, told him to be straight with everyone and own up. But he just couldn't help himself. His girlfriend's announcement that Doug was in fact only 17 was met with a wall of bullshit when we challenged him. He was desperate to impress and his lies had snowballed to the extent where they had taken over his life.

He was also an accomplished martial artist, being a second dan holding blackbelt Judoka and former runner up in the nationals. This was of particular interest to my best mate Clive, who was in fact a first dan blackbelt and runner up in regional competitions. Clive's response was "Douglas who?". One of the guys took Doug along to their karate class and was somewhat surprised to witness Doug turn up in his Judo Ghi, but wearing a very tattered green belt. Apparently the black one was only brought out for special occasions and green was his "lucky colour". Neither would he spar with Clive, for they were both members of "different Judo associations".


Hell, we owed him the opportunity to redeem himself and were upfront with our skepticism and reassured him that it didn't matter.

But no dice. The reason he was absent from the 1991 college leaving photo was because he was ill on the day it was taken. The fact that he was nineteen and having posessed a Danish driving license for three years was explained by virtue of it being legal in Denmark to drive at sixteen and therefore could legally do so in Britain. Having met up with a few of us in the college, he even walked up to the college principal - who proclaimed no recollection of Doug - and asked if he remembered teaching Doug physics the previous year. His "Danish driving license" was unearthed and upon inspection entitled him to drive an electric buggy around Legoland. His failure to drive anyone home from his house party was due to his parent's car having a flat battery (Doug had even gone to the trouble of wiring the battery charger in prior to folks turning up) and also the fact that his older brother decided not to leave his Golf GTi at the family home.

At this point, Doug was on the verge of becoming a social pariah. However, his ability to inspire loyalty in people around him ensured that he was still tolerated.

Then one day he announced he was joining the Army. But this wasn't enough for Doug, oh no. He couldn't bear the thought of being considered second rate in any way so he followed this bombshell with the assertion that he was off to Sandhurst for officer training. Yep, he'd be rubbing shoulders with public schoolboys and minor royalty.

And thus Doug fell off the social radar for a couple of years. I briefly bumped into him in a club around 1993 when he told me that he was on £17k a year and owned a brand new Vitara. That was his conversation opener.

As an epilogue, I was at a party in 1995 and a familiar face appeared. Doug! He showed me the photos from Sandhurst, where he was dressed in his military olive greens - but for reasons of not wanting to be a potential assasination target for IRA hitmen he was ordered to remove all rank insignia from his uniform.

But he didn't stop there... Oh no... Apparently he was honorably discharged from the Army. The reason being that he'd been posted to Bosnia and been involved in a firefight which resulted in him being seriously wounded. He would be in a wheelchair within a couple of years, but would be receiving a substantial amount of cash in compensation. He suffered from horrible nightmares about the battle in which he'd been involved and could still hear the noise of the chopper which had been sent to evacuate him.

It was obvious that he had been working on this particular fantasy for some time. For he finished with the assertion that the £250k of compensation would set him up for life. He would buy a flat and best of all, he'd like us to give him a lift to the local Jaguar dealer in the morning as he was going to inspect an XK8...

Since then there have been sightings of the mythical Doug. He's been spotted serving beers behind the bar of a local pub (he was apparently brought in to manage the bar). He's also been seen locomoting without the aid of a wheelchair (or indeed a Jaguar XK8), some eleven years after his crippling altercation with Bosnian Serb militiamen.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:02, 4 replies)

i know/ew two
The first was named 'Crazy B*****' (an actual name, not a curse or anything). During the time i knew here in high school (aged 15-16) she'd always play innocent about everything, well, mostly sexual matters, but that doesn't matter for the moment. One lunchtime she picked up her phone as if to answer a call; which me + friends believed at the time, and burst into tears, professing one of her friends (out of school) had been involved in a car accident and was in hospital (and later ''''died''''). We all consoled her as much as possible until one of my friends actually spoke to said 'dead' friend. I've no idea how the conversation played out... but i wish i'd been there :D We tried to leave CB to herself, alienating ourselves from her severe strangeness, but her constant attention seeking became self harming -in front of us-. Thank fuck i barely talk to her now. I'm actually suspicous of everything she says.

No.2: The J****
She was a girl who'd come to our sixth form to get some A-levels and came on recommendations from someone who already knew her. Theeey were wrong. Her attrocities (in our eyes) are as follows:
- coming into college (what felt like) every other week with a new injury, broken wrist / arm / leg etc with an abnormally quick heal rate
- missing EVERY exam we had to take, EVERY, and blamed it on sickness, ergo receiving her predicted grade for the module of the exam. Witch. While everyone else worked towards doing well in the exam, she conveniently *fell down the stairs* the DAY before the exam. My head of sixth form eventually kicked her out for such behavior.
- and lastly, worst of all. This girl pretended to suffer from diabetes (she had BM sticks and sugar tablets et al!). She always had people looking out for her and her health and decided to exploit our empathy. It really sickened me.

Gladly, neither of these two share any part of my life. So very gald. *shudders*

length? shove it. shove it up your stupid arses! (
( Raudulfr, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 17:00, Reply)

Lying weirdy beardy
My mate Ben told me that a young Jedi named Darth Vader, who was a pupil of his until he turned to evil and helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi knights, betrayed and murdered my father.

Imagine my shock when after having my hand chopped off at the end of a climatic battle with Darth Vader he told me that HE was my father!!!

And what was Bens excuse? He was trying to protect me!!! What a twat!!! I grew up for years thinking I was an orphan when all along my dad was one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Imagine the upbringing I could have had. Instead I grew in a little shithole in a shitty planet.

L. Skywalker
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 16:58, 4 replies)