Lie Star

Followed a link to the Billy Bullshit blog. I had a schoolfriend who, between 1982-85, could not stop himself from lying. But they were good lies; his Golden Years.

He claimed to have had dozens of 107 maximums on his 6×3 snooker table (it only had 10 reds). In all the years we played I never saw him score higher than a 25, a clearance of green to black.

He reckoned his dad was stabbed in the thigh at the 1983 Milk Cup Final by a Scouser with some scissors. I saw his dad the following Saturday and he was fine; never mentioned it.

He had the world record highest score on Pac Man on his ZX Spectrum. I said ‘how long did it take you?’ He said ‘26 hours’.

His sister’s boyfriend could drive from Crewe to Northwich in 7 minutes in his Vauxhall Chevette. It’s 12 miles, mostly B roads. You couldn’t fire someone out of a canon that quick.

He claimed the rubber butt on a three-piece pool cue I once owned could be used as condom. He’d seen such things in action in one of his dad’s porn videos.

His dad was a leading figure in the Post Office workers’ union, he claimed, capable of calling out a national strike. He wasn’t.

Never dull.


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