TELL a lie big enough and people will believe it, Goebbels said, but if you tell a small, pathetic lie nobody will even bother to check. Like these:
‘My dad taught Bonehead from Oasis to drive’
For those unversed in the minutae of 90s bands, Bonehead was one of the people who didn’t matter in Oasis. Nobody knows whether he could play guitar, let alone drive. Is your dad a driving instructor? No? How did it happen then? Actually, who cares?
‘I had trials for Swindon Town’
The perfect attention-seeking lie has a little bit of pathos. Swindon Town? Who’d lie about that? Add to this the fact that all kids are basically the same at football and it’s at once believable and effortlessly dismissable.
‘My uncle worked for Nintendo’
A classic 90s lie, but if told today puzzling. So what? They don’t let the bloke booking meeting rooms in Coventry playtest Donkey Konga. Variations include ‘my uncle was a roadie for Iron Maiden’ and ‘my uncle beat Frank Bruno as an amateur’. Again, so what?
‘I moved school after getting in a fight with a teacher’
No, you moved school because you called Mrs Muir ‘mum’ and then when she laughed along with everyone else you shouted ‘stop it, mum!’ then cried.
‘They named the Severn Bridge after how many German fighter pilots my grandad shot down’
Requires, just for openers, illiteracy. Also, there were pilots who shot down far more so what made your granddad special? And why wouldn’t they name it after him? Additionally, f**k off with your f**king bullshit.
‘I used to go out with Emilia Clarke and/or Tom Hardy’
Did you? Oh right. It’s just that you grew up in a completely different place and also you have a face like a bag of smashed crabs.