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This is a question Lies that went on too long

When you lie you often have to keep lying. Share your pain. When I was 15 I pretended to be 16 to help get a summer job. Then had to spend a summer with this nice shopkeeper asking me everyday if I was excited about getting my GCSE results. I felt like an utter shit. Thanks to MerseyMal for the suggestion.

(, Thu 8 Mar 2012, 21:57)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

The ending
to Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer"

Not just one lie, but a calculated series of them.

Utter bastards.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 15:29, 4 replies)
Almost 20yrs ago...
I took my driving test. Well I didn't really.

My test was in the early nineties, long before photocard driving licences existed. I'd failed twice, before I was introduced to a bloke who 'passed for people'. I paid him £50 and he took my licence, went off to Essex and passed my driving test for me. When he came back with 'my' pass certificate, I paid him another £50.

I've never had an accident. Never had any points. And I've never told a soul.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 15:27, 8 replies)
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(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 15:20, 5 replies)
'NO, I'M NOT UPSET AT YOU, ONLINE'.

(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 15:12, 7 replies)
Prior to an imminent Maths test in Primary school.
I had severe stomach cramps that led to a panicked mother having to take me to hospital as the symptoms were similar to ones that had hospitalised me as a baby.

After a few hours in hospital and realising what I'd put my mother through just to avoid a maths test I've never been able to tell her the truth 30 years later.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 15:00, 1 reply)
My employer still thinks I'm good at my job
and meanwhile I browse B3TA all day, and try to keep up appearances. I hope I never really have to finish that technical paper I have promised to write some months ago...
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 14:56, 3 replies)
The truth about Saint George
Turkish not English? Check. George of Lydda.

He did kill a dragon, though. Two dragons, in fact. And they were Chinese dragons, at that. But what do you do with a dead dragon? You can't eat them - poisonous, see?

So old George asks around, and gets told to dig a big pit, roll in the two large reptilian corpses, being careful not to step in the puddles of blood as it would dissolve his armour along with most other parts of him. Once he's done that, he has to use lots of quicklime and potash and other such caustic subtances to try to neutralise the nasty dragon toxins.

And they were the lyes that went on two Lóng
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 14:43, 4 replies)
Star Wars mushrooms
I told my little girl that eating mushrooms gives you 'the force'. She beleived me for years but never managed to aquire the use of the force. She does however like mushrooms now.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 14:32, 10 replies)
Private Finance Initiative, anyone?

The abhorrent mess that is PFI should never have been started, let alone allowed to become the bloated industry that it now is.


It was started by the Tories under John Major, and enormously expanded under New Labour. The current mob have shown no particular inclination to get rid of it, which is extremely disappointing but not entirely unexpected.


PFI is predicated on a colossal fib: that private companies can borrow as cheaply as the government. This is of course nonsense, as anyone with an understanding of the principle of economies of scale can understand. Furthermore, PFI projects invariably require vast numbers of expensive lawyers, accountants, consultants and advisers, which push up the cost.

PFI has been a particularly good lie for politicians because it enables the true cost of the projects to be kept off balance sheet. Tony Blair and Gordon Brown enormously expanded the PFI programme, because it meant that they could rather cynically use the projects to gain votes, leaving the vastly inflated costs to be met by the taxpayer in the future.


It should be ended now, but I don't see Osbourne doing so anytime soon. In the meantime, your taxes will continue to be poured into the greedy mouths of PFI professionals.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 13:36, 5 replies)
I told Luke that his father was dead, and never mentioned his sister, the princess.

(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 13:32, Reply)
My own death
When I was about 10 or 11 my class at school was encouraged to get a penfriend in Africa. It was organized through some charity, and the idea was to make us more culturally aware, or something. So I ended up writing to some boy around my age in Nigeria.

It started off quite interesting and fun, we sent photos of ourselves and shared information about schools, but after a while I ran out of things to say, and he started asking if I would send shoes, or money, or help him get to school in Britain. I felt embarassed about this. So I faked my own death. I didn't write for a couple of months, then I sent a letter, trying to disguise my handwriting, explaining how I was Smale's dad, and Smale had tragically died in a road accident so he wouldn't be able to write anymore, ok? Bye.

But my penfriend wrote back, expressing his sadness, and asking for more details. Stupidly I couldn't resist elaborating on the road accident. So then he wrote back again, asking for a photo, to remember me by. So I sent one, and thanked him for his concern, and we exchanged a few more letters, but finally the correspondence faded away.

But then the charity who organised the thing in the first place decided that they would arrange some exchange visits with our school. They wrote to the head mistress. They expressed their sadness at my untimely death. The headmistress called me into her office. "You're looking well Smale," she said when I went in, "considering you died 6 months ago."
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 13:23, 4 replies)
Me and my transsexual wife
I am a huge fan of the Eurovision Song Contest. I have been since I was 14, when it became my hobby and my passion. No-one really knows why (although many theories have been posited), but the majority of hardcore Eurovision fans are gay men. When I say hardcore fans, I mean the people for whom the Contest is not just an annual event, but fan-club members who spend the rest of the year listening to the songs and talking about the Contest on online forums. There are some straight fans - including myself - but we are in the minority.

Henceforth, since my teens, some of my best friends have been gay men.

The problem was though, that for many years they could not quite believe I was really straight. There were two main reasons for this: firstly, every other male Eurovision fan they knew was also gay - therefore statistically it was probable that I would be too. Secondly, I was rather a "late bloomer" in that I did not have a real girlfriend until my mid 20s - therefore giving rise to the explanation that the reason must be because I was in the closet, and just did not want to admit it - even to myself. In this context, there was therefore a lot of good-natured joking about my orientation, which caused my friends hours of amusement.

I finally met Rachel - the wonderful woman who was to become my wife, and my friends finally came round to believe that I did after all like drinking from the furry cup, and that I was not inclined to play the rusty trombone.

But then there was Mona. Mona is also a Eurovision fan, but she was more a friend of one of my friends, Stuart, than directly to me. Mona is a (straight) female Eurovision fan from Greece who drives a bus, and she takes no nonsense on the night routes.

When I got together with Rachel, Stuart thought it would be amusing to tell Mona that I had finally "found myself" - admitting that I was gay all along, but that I did not want my family to know, therefore I had managed to find myself a pre-op transsexual. From this point on, Mona firmly believed that Rachel was born a man. The joke was facilitated by the fact that Rachel was born in the Far-East, and although not from Thailand, Stuart told Mona that she was.

The first time that Mona met Rachel was when Mona hosted a Eurovision party to which several people were invited, including Stuart, Rachel and myself. At this point both Rachel and I were unaware of the joke-lie which had been told - however Rachel later reported to me that Mona had been giving her funny looks all evening. Naturally, Mona was curious about this person who looked like a woman but who was actually carrying around meat & two veg in her trousers.

When Stuart later told me about the lie, he also told me about Mona's post-party comments to him: "It's amazing, isn't it? Rachel looks so feminine! It's a wonder what surgery can do these days!"

When I married Rachel last year, Stuart told Mona about it - and Mona's response was: "But they can't marry, surely? It's not legal??"

The problem is now that the lie is two years old, and the belief is firmly entrenched in Mona's consciousness. Stuart wants to tell her that the joke's been on her all along - but if he does, then Mona will be embarrassed for herself and angry with Stuart for stringing her along. Therefore Stuart says nothing - letting Mona happily believe that I'm now married to a shemale.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 12:37, 26 replies)
David Bowie
I met a girl in a bar, we got talking, she worked in a club frequented by many a very, very A-List Celeb & Rock Star, she was a bit older than me and would no doubt have been out of my league had she not been blind drunk and unable to figure that out. We swapped stories, and one of hers was about the nighht she fucked David Bowie. We spent that night together and hung out a bit the next day. Sobering up didn't much change her affection for me or vice versa and we ended up going out for about 6 months. It started to fall apart after the day she told me she hadn't really fucked Bowie. She'd fucked Gerald Harper, but no one knew who he was so she'd said David Bowie instead. I could get past the fact that she'd lied, I could get past the fact that I felt stupid for believing her. But I couldn't, under any circumstances, accept that she knew me at all if she for one second thought that I wouldn't fucking know who Gerald Harper was.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 12:24, 17 replies)
I fancied someone I worked with
and after a night on the lash we had sex.
God it was awful. Everything about it. The noises he made the faces he pulled and the movement was all rigid (think will from the inbetweeners)
After the glorious 30 seconds before I realized I was half naked and saw the used condom on the floor, it hit me and I remembered everything. I pictured my self (and I remember this quite vividly) repeatedly slamming my head against the door. What did I do? Had sex with him again. If I didn't he would realize how badly I regretted it, and would be quite upset. He recently had his fiance walk out on him, been evicted from his house and a cat he loved dearly died. The man couldn't handle anymore shit.
So we did it again, clumsy messy awkward sex. Another fake orgasm. A few days later I made up some shit about my mum having a serious illness. I said I really fancied him and the sex was amazing but I wasn't in the right place to be seeing someone. I should of been honest with him, told him he just didn't have a fucking clue how to please a woman. Since then he just keeps having these brief sexual escapades with woman, and never realizing why they never call back. Every time I think about it I'm riddled with the unpleasant stench of guilt.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 12:18, 16 replies)
I love B3ta...
..and I still like QOTW. But the repetition is getting beyond a joke now, we had this question in AUG 2010 as Lies that got out of control.

I'll pearoast my story in the hope that Maxim might steal it for their readers letters section again......

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!!
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 11:49, 12 replies)
I'm going to get in before AB with this one
and say every single qotw post, ever.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 11:42, 19 replies)
She makes me ill.
Drunkenly told my brother's wife that she was attractive in a flirty, too pissed to realise the sheer brevity of what I was doing, heineken soaked haze. She did have nice tits though and the glimpse of cleavage was enough to bring out the trouble in me.

Thing is, I thought she'd forget or at least laugh it off as pissed cock-talk. But no. Every Christmas she forever flirts with me whenever I see her. Winks. Makes inappropriate innuendos in response to anything I say. In front of family. The dosey cow thinks it's our little secret. And this has been going on for years and years and fucking years.

Originally, when the event happened, she was a two-bagger at best. Now she's a hideous fat cunt who genuinely terrifies me.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 11:24, 17 replies)
Hundreds of years
It's about time that they changed the instruction manual for the Catholic seminaries. That interpretation of the verse from Matthew:

"Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of heaven."

Doesn't mean go ahead and abuse children as often as you can because Jesus wants you to and we'll protect you.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 11:06, 10 replies)
Well for the last 6 years
my CV has said that I'm a member of a thriving digital arts and media community, online.

It looks good on paper. What I mean is, I have a flickr and a b3ta account. Less impressive perhaps but it's not my fault if they misperceive the truth for the implied truth.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 11:02, 1 reply)
"I'm a good team player, and can work well on my own using my initiative.
"I thrive under pressure, and enjoy meeting daily and planned challenges. I am adept at using most office software, and specialise in the Adobe Creative Suite ... "
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:59, 8 replies)
GCSE and A-Level results. The whole media campaign around the results is a complete farce.
The truth is that exam grades are given to set scoring percentiles, not for actual resutls. (the top 30% scoring exam papers in economics get an A no matter what their actual result was)

This creates a system where exam results only reflect how well the person did compared to everyone else that took the exam that year. It has no relation to any other previous exam and any comparisons between different years is completely meaningless.

yet every year, exam results are announced and the government take credit in "record breaking results"
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:58, 16 replies)
As a skint 21 year old, I once used a dodgy insurance policy for a moped
to ride a Kawasaki 750.

The policy said I could ride any bike not belonging to me 3rd party, so I registered the bike in my brothers name, and rode it on my £40 moped cover. Would have been £250 if I'd done it properly.

Needless to say, the bike got nicked. My boss, who was a lawyer casually enquired one day how my insurance claim was going.

'Oh, well slowly, you know. takes time'.

'Let me have the papers, I'll send them a shirty letter' he says.

I couldn't quite bring myself to tell him I had dodgy insurance, and spent the next month evading his well meant requests for the papers. In the end I had to tell him I had got the claim paid, and borrow the money from my Mum to buy a new bike.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:35, 3 replies)
Von Trapp Family Singers
I once went out for a chinese meal with the eldest von Trapp girl in a south eastern French coastal town. She liked the soup.

Liesl wonton Toulon.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:27, 1 reply)
"God made me pregnant, Joseph"
"I swear".
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:21, 2 replies)
How old are you, son?
When I was a five I had a voracious appetite for books. Unfortunately, Glasgow Corporation Libraries only allowed one ticket for those under six and three for those aged six or more. My dear mother therefore lied a little when signing me up. For the next eighteen years I had to remember that my date of birth for Glasgow Corporation purposes was a year earlier than for everything else.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:20, 1 reply)
I've just spilt sparkling mineral water all over my desk.
A whole 12 hours too late to whinge about it whilst remaining on topic.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:19, 4 replies)
Walked into a quiet pub
and for some inexplicable reason, I ordered a pint in a Scottish accent. It just came out. I think I'd been thinking in Sean Connery's voice (which I heartily recommend to add a bit of character to your own internal monologues).

Got chatting to the barman while waiting for my friend to turn up. Still in Scottish accent.

When he turned up, quickly explained what was going on, and continued sitting at the bar and speaking in a Scottish accent all night.

Got easier and more natural as I drank more, strangely.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 10:10, 10 replies)
Being interviewed by the local Chief of Police.
I once applied for a job which had something or other to do with 'Shop Safe' schemes, similar to the 'Pub Watch' schemes that mean if you're barred from one you're often barred from all, or at least followed round by security. I wrote on my application that I had previous experience of such schemes of course, I think the phrase I used was "actively involved" in the shop safe scheme in Newbury.

The truth was I'd gone along once in my 3 years working in retail in Newbury and that was only because they had free tea and biscuits. We all passed round a folder of mug shots of the local hoodlums and giggled at their pronounced brows etc.

Long story short I wasn't expecting an interview, I certainly wasn't expecting a panel interview with the Canterbury City Centre Manager, the Head of Kent Shop Safe Schemes and worst of all the Kent Chief of Police in his full uniform and hat perched on the table.

Never one to back out of something I sat politely and answered all their questions, elaborated further on my involvement in the scheme in Newbury. They then told me about the job itself, to revive the flagging Shop Safe scheme in Whitstable and then launching one from scratch in Herne Bay. Of course I'd be reporting directly to the Head of Shop Safe and liaising regularly with Kent Police.

I walked out of the interview laughing at my slight miscalculation of both my own skills and the seriousness of the job I applied for. Of course I was laughing on the other side of my face when they offered me the job. I obviously couldn't do it, eating tea and biscuits was not the required experience for setting up something like a shop safe scheme from scratch. I politely turned down the job, alas that wasn't the end of it, the City Centre Manager called me up and asked me to meet him in the board room of the council offices. He then sat telling me how right I was for the job. I told him I was doing an OU course in psychology and didn't think I'd have the time to do both, to which his response was that he could definitely get me doing some work experience with the local forensic psychology team thanks to his connections with Kent Police. Eventually after an hour in that room and the weirdest 3 days of my life I was able to turn down the job and walk away, the lie still intact.

Moral of the story? Think twice about lying on CV's and applications just in case they DO give you the nuclear codes and you have trouble turning down jobs.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 9:53, 5 replies)
Just saying "Capitalism" feels a little too trite. Conservative policy?
We are Not all in this together.
The disabled are Not bleeding the nation dry.
Work does Not make you free.
You do Not feel our pain.
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 9:35, 6 replies)
I once lied about
my age to get a job at toys r us, got away with it for two years until they realised. Didn't get into any trouble because I think the management were more amused that I'd actually lied to work in that orange hell hole, seeing that magical place under one roof still sends shivers down my spine every Christmas....
(, Fri 9 Mar 2012, 9:20, 10 replies)

This question is now closed.

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