Don't accidentally take the piss out of a Scot
or, How I Nearly Got Glassed.

Now, I have in the past been referred to as 'an accent vacuum'. It was a joke, but it's also true; I can't seem to help myself. Chat to anyone with a strong accent and chances are I'll have picked it up within ten minutes. The only exception to this rule - one I am truly grateful for - has been the avoiding the appalling patois of the Midlands, where I currently live. (For those not in the know, the Birmingham accent is like fingernails down the blackboard of your soul)

Anyway, I digress. A few years ago I went up to Dundee to visit a mate of mine at uni. As you'd expect, we met at the train station and immediately took ourselves to a place where liquid refreshment could be bought, and indeed was bought in some quantity. During one of my many trips to the bar I got chatting to a couple of hilariously drunken bar proppers and found myself quickly developing a scots twang that would make Mel Gibson weep in envy. However, as I was now somewhat refreshed my attention started to waver along with my accent, and the younger of the two regulars grew suspicious.

‘Aye, ye’re no local. How come you’re in Dundee the day?’
I explained I’d come to visit my friend and he nodded sagely.
‘Come far?’ – a couple of hours on the train. He immediately scowled.
‘No fae south o the fuckin border?’ – yes, I’m at uni in Durham. He relaxed a little then, and so did I – even in my mildly addled state I could tell he’d been getting a little over aggressive. This, as it turned out, was a mistake. Eventually he asked me where I was from. Remembering how he’d seem a little -ahem- anti English, I cautiously said ‘Edinburgh’ – this being the only Scottish city I’d been to previously. I hoped, incorrectly as it turned out, that this would allow me to sidle away, go for a piss and finish my pint in peace with my friend. It did not.

‘Aye, I know Edinburgh,’ says he, and begins to regale me with tales of – well – Edinburgh. I can only nod and mumble, my knowledge of the place being a pubic hair’s width greater than fuck all. He begins to look suspicious again and despite my best efforts to back away, he grips my arm and treats me to a lecture about how English students are ruining the place and how ‘a wee Scottish lassie like you shouldnae leave tae go tae some fuckin poofy southern university’. He ranted on for some minutes, by which point by bladder was so full I could feel the piss creeping in to my eyes in an attempt to leave by my tear ducts – anything to relieve the pressure.

Eventually, almost in agony, I cut in: ‘Look mate – I’m sorry, but I really have to go to the bathroom.’ All delivered in my normal Lancashire accent. FUCK. I’m rumbled – my erstwhile companion now resembles Vesuvius about to blow.

‘I thought you said you was fae Edinburgh!’ he thundered. Instead of cutting my losses and running away, I stutteringly assure him that this is so and that my dad had to move down to Manchester for work when I was 10 – a complete fabrication. He rumbled for a bit more and I scarpered for a piss, before returning to my bemused friend, urging him to drink up. Against my better judgement, he insists we stay for another pint and goes to the bar, where of course he is cornered by the suspicious bar propper.

Unaware of the thick and dubious layer of bullshit I have spread, upon questioning he tells the now affable chap the truth - he's studying here, I've come to visit him, and yes we're both english. This elicits a bellow of rage and an untelligible cry of something along the lines of 'Yefuckinpisstakinbitchye!' (which I later realised was 'I suspect you may have been telling porkies' in Dundee dialect). He staggers through the pub and started to berate me, pint in hand, before dropping his pint, realising in rage that he has dropped his pint, then picked up the remnants of my friend's pint and chucked it at me - missing by worryingly few inches. Terrifyingly, he then tried to snatch my glass out of my hand and smash it in my face. In an amazing show of bravado cowardice I screamed like a girl and fucked off sharpish, leaving my mate to deal with the drunken mental who was trying to concuss him with a barstool.

Moral of the story? Don't go to a scary ass local pub in Dundee just because it does cheap pints. And don't take the piss out of scottish people, either.
(berk, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 16:11, 9 replies)

When young children realise that you're lying to them for your and others' amusement
It can be disasterous, as they will then go along with it and start asking all sorts of related questions.

So I would advise not telling them that Wednesday divided by purple equals pineapple, as you will end up having to quick-fire respond to what the average weight of music is and what happens when the moon goes out during the day within moments.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 16:09, Reply)

I have read
and agree to the terms and conditions.
(Brambly Slag is strangely attracted to Steve Buscemi, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 16:04, 4 replies)

Not me
A lad who used to work for our firm, was constantly late or just not there on Mondays.

So he gets pulled into the office and asked to explain. His answer:

"I have AIDS"

Where on earth do you go from there?
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 13:26, 14 replies)

Craig . . . . "Aye"
My old flatmate used to work with a compulsive liar called Craig. This is just one of the many many countless whoppers Craig told in his ongoing quest to appear as the Coolest Guy Ever.

Craig said "aye" a lot. Mainly because after uttering his latest line of verbal bullshit, his dumbfounded audience always asked "Really?". "Aye", Craig would reply, before adding the next chapter in his imaginary saga.

Each day my flatmate would come stumbling in from work, unable to walk through debilitating laughter, saying "You won't believe what Craig said today".

Toothless Craig was the uber chav, or ned here in Scotland. He lived with his mum in a decaying sink estate on the edge of town, and he often bragged about his narcotic prowess. In this case, the amount of lies he told just to stop being caught out on a single whopper escalated lying to a new level.

The conversation between Craig and my flatmate had gone thus:

Flatmate: "So Craig, if you've got all these drugs in your house, aren't you worried about getting busted by the police?"

Craig: "Nut, cause I keep my drugs in a safe."

FM: "Fuck off! Really? You telling me they wouldn't check your safe?"

Craig: "Aye, but No they wouldnae. Cause I keep my safe in the shed."

FM (sighs): "The police would check the shed though."

Craig (triumphantly): "Aye, but no they wouldnae, cause I've got five sheds!"


Classy guy eh?

If I had the time I could describe all sorts of shite he came out with, including the dirty dancing story in which he apparently walked away with the hottest bird in the club (the language she used to pull him is even more comical).

Any time someone mentioned a celebrity, Craig's most famous line was uttered: "I ken the cunt."

Legend. I was gutted when he got the sack. For lying about a sicknote apparently
(Barry Subchimp, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 12:48, 3 replies)

Viz
I'm Fidel Castro and I have a squad of elite commandos secreted up my arse. I also shot JFK.

A. Prior
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 12:03, 7 replies)

Or "We'll keep your CV on file..."
When you just know they're going to subject it to the ritual humiliation of bukkake then feed it to a pack of crazed wolves.

Actually I work in recruitment and we do keep some CV's on file. But we do also have an in-tray, an out-tray and a bukkake-tray.
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 12:03, 9 replies)

"Thanks for your application
We'll get back to you."
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 11:11, Reply)

Ooops
One afternoon, I was sitting in a traditional English pub with my mate and for a bit of fun I invented a lie and said to him "I had a kebab for my breakfast". "That's disgusting!" he exclaimed quickly following up with "You fucking animal!". I defended my position by telling him "It's a perfectly reasonable morning meal. Forrins eat them. You'd eat a croisant wouldn't you? So why not a kebab?". The discussion continued for some time.

Unbeknownst to us, a visiting American tourist, who happened to be a pilot, was sitting nearby. He had heard everything. So startled was he by the breakfast antics of this "crazy limey" that he texted all of his mates, who also happened to be pilots, to tell them the shocking, gruesome and revolting fabricated facts. His mates who were flying at the time received the texts and due to a combination of replying "OMFG that is gross dude!" and temporarily losing vision because their brains could not digest such information whilst continuing to provide eye to brain connectivity, four of them crashed resulting in nearly three thousand dead and six thousand injured.

I ain't never going to lie about what I had for breakfast again.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 11:04, 4 replies)

But I'm a Real Girl!
Last summer whilst I was living back in Norfolk, I went to have an STD test (just to be a responsible adult y'know). I wasn't nervous, had them before. Went into the room to have a chat with the doctor before the testing- here is an extract of the converation:

Doctor: So Miss AFTN, are you in a relationship?

Me: No

Doctor: When was the last time you had sex?

Me: Two months ago.

Doctor: Ah ok, since you've said you've recently come back from travelling, was this with a man you met whilst in South America?

Me: Oh no, it was a local Norfolk lad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now here's what the answers SHOULD have been:

Doctor: So Miss AFTN, are you in a relationship?

Me: Yes

Doctor: When was the last time you had sex?

Me: Last weekend

Doctor: Ah ok, since you've said you've recently come back from travelling, was this with a man you met whilst in South America?

Me: No, it was with my girlfriend who lives in London.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have NO idea where these answers came from! They just came out, no thinking about it, no hesitation!

I'm not usually too bothered about people knowing about my sexuality. But there are exceptions, usually around older people. When I went on holiday a couple of years ago with my friend and her family, she told me not to mention I had a girlfriend in front of her grandparents as it was a generation/ religion thing.

Also I work with a girl from Ghana, who doesn't really understand it due to cultural differences.

I don't see my dad very often, prolly 3-4 times a year and I haven't got around to telling him as he's not the most open minded man I know.

I'm not very brave and HATE confrontation. So I have to censor what I say (or lie about my lifestyle) to different people. But only to people I hardly ever see so it's not like I'm leading a double life or owt! Can just be a bit difficult sometimes!

Yus I'm proud

I think I have issues.....
( awayfromthenumbers, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 10:57, 31 replies)

I won't invade Czechoslovakia
A. Hitler
(Psymon_Spark Jesus Saves! The rest of you take 4d6 damage, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 9:58, 5 replies)

The best lies are ones immediately picked up by a co-conspiritor without acknowledgement, for the porpoises of winding up others.
Sitting on the tube with a mate new to Mordor, we went through the as-then closed-for-the-duration Mornington Crescent.

"It's always closed" said newbie.

"Yeah" replied other mate, "Richard Branson's bought it - he's going to build a Virgin Megastore over it and advertise it as the first shop in London to have it's own tube station"

"Aye" I agreed, "They're going to rename it "Virgin Central". Blummin' capitalist bastards, raping our history and culture in pursuit of the Yankee dollar ..."

Several years later, we were delighted to go out with (by now not-so) new-to-London mate, and overhear him instructing a girl about this, and when she questioned how come it was open now, about how the deal had fallen through so he'd sold it back to the London Transport Network at a massive loss.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 9:57, 1 reply)

Gazza lied about having some chicken with him.
It ended badly.
( Cave Duck, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 9:33, Reply)

There's a guy works down the chip shop
He swears he's Elvis.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 9:28, 8 replies)

I was on Knightmare once.
No really. I was the one wearing the helmet who went through all the weird landscapes fighting goblins and whatnot. No, really. Impressed? Yeah, I bet you are. Come back to my tent (I was at a festival) and we'll do whatever it is men and women do with no clothes on in a tent. Awesome.

Thank you, Challenge TV, for showing Knightmare on a near endless loop that summer that I was on the dole. It really helped with the details.
( rnuk http://flickr.com/rnuk, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 8:17, 6 replies)

Skinner told me he reckons the teachers will crack any minute...
...purple monkey dishwasher
(Zutroy started without you, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 5:53, Reply)

I tell every body that I don't drink any longer and that I'm fine
 
I drink most days. I'm not fine.

I also suspect that I may be having/have had a mental breakdown, but I still tell everybody I'm fine.

I'm holding on to the tail of a dragon in flight and I don't know how to let go because I'm afraid of the fall.
Sooner or later, I'm going to lose my grip. I have no idea what happens then.
(bongo rory twang and boots is my secondary lurking account, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 4:59, 16 replies)

I knew of a guy
who trained to be a church minister. Got through a three year degree while claiming to have widespread cancer; conveniently getting a lot of "treatment" during exam times. Convinced hundreds of people that he was some sort of nu-Jesus figure when his cancer miraculously cleared up a few months later, to the amazement of the (fictional) doctors at his (fictional) hospital who were (fictionally) struck by his incredible faith and super powers of prayer.

Suffice to say many were a little disappointed when he later renounced all faith and decided to become a gay, after having his entire cancer escapade debunked. Not least his long-suffering wife.
(HectorProtector, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 1:16, 2 replies)

Dedicated to exposing a lier
A lad that used to drink in my local pub for a while before he fucked off out of the county, would constantly bore us with lies about what he got up to in his year travelling the world.

Some fine examples are that he was Jacques Villeneuve's personal butler, how he was a professional kangaroo hunter and how he came into the possession of a skiing chateau in the Alps.

One of his less imaginative boasts was that when he was visiting Christchurch (New Zealand) for a week, that he got onto the 'wall of honour' in an Irish bar called The Bog for drinking 100 pints of Guinness.

A wall of honour is basically a massive board with lots of names on it with the date that you had drunk a certain amount of drinks in that pub. As I just stated he claimed he got on the wall after drinking 100 pints of Guinness.

That is doesn't sound an overly large number, but it does equate to roughly just under 14 and a half pints of Guinness everyday of the week that he was there. He's usually on his arse after 4 so I was very dubious of this claim.

So much so that when I just happened to be in Christchurch for a weekend while on a holiday to New Zealand, that I found the pub The Bog. I checked the board, his name wasn't there.

He still wouldn't admit to lying when I told him of my visit to the pub and the lack of his name, he even claimed that someone must of stolen the board with his name on as a trophy. Still ploughing on even when exposed. Lying Cunt.
(fearsome mumbler is shit at telling stories, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 22:38, 7 replies)

I've always been a massive liar
so when my Year 1 teacher asked me what my Dad's job was during class I chose not to answer with the honest "Youth Worker", which even at the age of 6 struck me as mind-numbingly, pant-wettingly dull.

Instead I opted for - "Astronaut!"

Amazingly I seemed to get away with this, and everyone was suitably awe-struck and impressed. Unfortunately this also included said teacher, who asked if my astro-dad would be able to come and give a talk to the class about his amazing life.

Obviously this was an impossible request, but I've never been one to panic. Instead, I looked at her witheringly, and replied, "Of course he can't. He's in space."
( kirst0s, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 21:16, Reply)

I don't have any stories for this one
So, lacking anecdotes, I'll just throw in an apposite quote:

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."
Sir Walter Scott, from his epic poem "Marmion", published 1808 AD
( The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 21:13, Reply)

Guitar based shame.
Telling somebody you can play the guitar is dodgy at the best of times. More so when you are in a music lesson. Talking to a music teacher. Who has a guitar propped up in one corner.

The time to come clean would, I suspect, have been when she picked up the guitar and handed it to me, suggesting that I strum along to the next song the class was about to sing.
I didn't.
I'm stupid like that.
Suffice it to say, if you gave a chimp a guitar and he started trying to bugger it then it would still sound more musical.
Ever have one of those memories where, if you could find out exactly which brain cell it was kept in, you'd stick a knitting needle up your nose and give yourself a lobotomy just so you'd forget? That's mine.
(Big D, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 20:52, 1 reply)

Help
Today, they day before I fly out to the Caribbean on holiday, my left index finger got pulled into a circular saw. :(

It's a slice from the tip to the nail bed, up the finger, through the bone. There's a fair chance it'll have to come off when I return.

Catching a finger in a saw is a dumb as fuck thing to do, so I'm looking for a better excuse for the injury. Right now all I can come up with is 'shark attack'. Anyone got any better ideas?
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Tue 17 Aug 2010, 17:56, 15 replies)

current employers 'we'd like to offer you the position of multimedia designer'
yeah.
five months of being chief artworker to someone who doesn't know design, and i'm about ready to burn this motherfucker down.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 17:31, Reply)

That smell?
Oh, it's just the drains.

And that patio was here when we moved in.
(Happybara The jungle came alive and took him, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 17:25, Reply)

Right, a quick one...
(that's what she said)

Not me, but a friend of mine, was at a family do, some old person’s birthday or some such, when he was doing the regular mingling with everyone.

He had had his fair share of beer, and, being a genuinely nice bloke, he saw another guest, who happened to be gay, sat on his own. Not wanting to let this guy feel lonely, he walked over to him and started chatting, about why no one was talking to him because he was gay. Obviously, he didn’t mean it in a mean way, more that the rest of the guests were a bit close minded.

The comment did not go down too well, and instead of cutting his losses, he decided to dig deeper and deeper, until the gay chap starts getting a bit angry and accusing my friend of being homophobic.

His response,

“I can’t be homophobic, because I like boys, as well.”

In one of those perfect moments, he looked up, to see EVERYONE staring at him, and silence.

His girlfriend burst into tears and stormed out, his mum started crying, and his dad looked at him shamefully, not to mention the rest of the open-mouthed guests

To this day, some of the people at that party think he is gay, just because he told a lie to get out of looking like a homophobe.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Tue 17 Aug 2010, 17:17, Reply)

About 15 years ago.
I'd started going out with a girl in my home town. At first I didn't think the relationship was going to go beyond the seeing each other at the weekends stage, but over time we saw more and more of each other and met each others parents and would regularly stay over at each others houses.

My lie began whilst talking to her family about holidays. Her family were well into holidays, holiday brochures were frequently read throughout the year and once a holiday had been booked it was all they'd talk about until they went on it. They even took trips to the airport to watch the planes take off and arrive.

During one of their holiday discussions her mum asked me what holidays I'd been on (I'd only ever been to Wales or the Lakes, never abroad) and for some reason (it must have been misguided embarrassment at having never been on a plane) I told her that I'd been to Florida and visted Disney Land and Universal studios years earlier. I immediately wish I hadn't said anything as it turned out that Florida was their dream holiday destination and they began asking me lots of questions about it. I tried to blag my way out of it by saying it had been years before and I didn't remember to much. But everytime a holiday conversation started it would inevitably turn to my ficticious holiday in Florida and I'd sit and squirm and lie even more about the details.

This is were the lie gets out of control.

We'd now been going out for around about a year and christmas was coming up and both sets of parents were asking if it would be a good idea for us all to have a meet up at christmas so that our parents could meet each other. I knew there was no way of getting out of this, and I also knew that some how the topic of holidays was bound to come around in conversation. To say I worried about this was an understatement. I lost sleep over it and eventually instead of coming clean to my girlfriend and her parents, I came clean to my parents.

And this is why I'll love them forever. They went along with the lie. We met my girlfriends parents and when the conversation did eventually turn to holidays (directed that way by my girlfriends parents) my mum and dad just said that we'd been to florida a few years before, gave sketchy details, and bluffed their way through it like troopers.
It was horrible, and I couldn't wait to break up with her so that the lie could be eventually put to bed! :P

I've now put away my shovel and stopped digging such big holes!!
( Evil Bastardo, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 17:12, 3 replies)

Biggest Lie that spun out of control
I said...."I do."
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Tue 17 Aug 2010, 16:49, 3 replies)