b0r1s wrote:

Every school had a bulshitter. We had a guy that claimed his dad got stopped by the police for speeding in his Maserati (we all lived on council estates) and let him off because of how well he drove.

equinox_code wrote:

this talk reminds me of Sean fucking Smallbones, who successfully tricked a dozen or so of us with the worlds most outrageous lie back in year 3.  It was his first day at school, and I guess in an effort to make new friends he told all the boys that i) he had every Nintendo and Sega console ever including all portables, and ii) he has such large quantities of these consoles that he would be happy to sell us each the consoles of our choice for a price that ranged from 10p - 20p each.  Ten to twenty pence! For any console I wanted! I fucking lost my mind, and had him put me down for one of each. I remember arguing with my parents who told me he wouldn't deliver on any of these promises, but I wasn't having any of it. I knew he would come through. What a legend. We all wanted to be his best friend.  But then the web of lies began to unravel. He had pledged to get us our consoles by the end of the week but come Friday none had been delivered. Okay no worries he assured us they would come through next week, but they didn't, nor the week after that. Some of us were growing concerned. Then one day he arrived with some tragic news. It turns out he was keeping his stockpile of consoles in a giant skip outside his house that was covered with a blanket, but he forgot that also his dad was keeping petrol there too for the car, and unfortunately his dad was smoking a cigarette and when he finished he threw the cigarette behind him without looking and there was a huge explosion  and everything was on fire. and so unfortunately he would no longer be able to provide us consoles at space raiders prices /:

tin_robot wrote:

b0r1s wrote:

Every school had a bulshitter.

There was a brief period when I was at primary school where the bullshitter was me.  I sort of "discovered" lying one day, having been previously convinced that everyone would always be able to tell if I was bullshitting, and I went slightly mad with power. The period began, and ultimately ended, with the tale of my Mum getting shot in the leg. (A story that has become so infamous amongst friends and family that I think I committed a version in verse to the Childs Play book we did a decade ago.  Certainly there's a version somewhere.)  The non-rhyming version is this... One day I was mucking about with friends waiting to go in after break. We'd been playing a game where we were all spies, and we were imagining we had to rescue our parents from the IRA.  (What can I say, we were kids, and the TV talked about the IRA constantly at the time).  Anyway, the teacher was suitably irritated by us continuing to cause disruption in the line, and asked me what we were talking about. To which I replied, semi-honestly, that we were talking about how my Mum had been shot in the leg. The teacher's attitude changed immediately from anger to concern, and I realised that pointing out that she hadn't really been shot, and that I was just describing the game, was unlikely to work in my favour. So I maintained the charade. It continued for quite a while.  There was a special assembly in honour of my Mum.  Prayers were said. I got an easy ride whenever I did anything wrong. It was great.   For a period, I was King.  And, as I say, drunk on power I started to spin more tales.  For instance, within a very short period I'd convinced the whole school that a monster definitely lived in the ditch behind the hedge (several others claimed to have seen it).  Everything was going swimmingly, until the fateful day of the School Sponsored Walk. The sponsored walk was an annual thing, and I always looked forward to it. Yes, you had to trudge 10 miles, but there were stops along the way for drinks and snacks, there were people giving out free gifts, and at the end my Mum (who always lagged behind) would buy us ice cream.  For some reason it never occurred to me that this year might be different.  So I waited at the end of the walk, brimming over with anticipation for ice cream, every now and again warning one kid or another not to get too close to the hedge.   Finally she appeared - walking much faster than usual, her face bright red, and her strides long and purposeful. I suddenly realised I was in deep trouble. She - rightly - made me confess everything there and then in front of the assembled masses, having spent a large part of the walk being stopped by parents and teachers alike who wanted to comment on her immense bravery "doing such a long walk after everything that happened".  Having made me confess to the assembled hordes, she then loudly proclaimed that she didn't know who she was more disappointed in. "My own son, or all of you idiots for believing him", before dragging me home in disgrace. After that I decided to restrict my penchant for tall tales to obvious fiction...

Paul the sparky wrote:

I'm wondering who's going meta with it and making up some of this shit

b0r1s wrote:

DS literally living in an episode of The Inbetweeners.