What's the best Bull**** story you've ever heard?

Armin_Tamzarian

Some auld fella at work came out with one of the most implausible stories I've ever heard today so I decided to start a thread to share the most ridiculous tales that people have tried to convince you are true.

There's an auld fella at work, he's about 60 odd and he sort of looks like an out of shape Rab C. Nesbitt (or perhaps Onslo from Keeping Up Appearances).
Anyways, today in the canteen, during a converstaion about the gym,
up pipes your man, "forget the gym, sure before I let myself go I used to run 48 miles in 3 and a half hours"...

Well you can imagine the ridicule that ensued.
Put, not to be perturbed he continued.
"Yeah, I was in great shape back then cos I used to get great training at Forrest".
He then proceeded to tell us that he used to play first team for Notts Forrest and later on for Spurs.

He claimed that he was half pissed one Sunday, kicking a football around a pub carpark when Bobby Charlton walked past and spotted him.

When quizzed as to why, at 60 years of age he was working as Plumber he replied, "well. I had to give up the football, the missus was getting jealous of all the female attention that I was getting"....

Can anyone top this beaut?

A close second could be a labourer that was on a site with us years ago.
Every day he'd have another corker for us.
One that sticks in my mind is his story of his bagagge handling days at Dublin Airport.
He started going on about some pilot who had trouble getting a 747 out of a hanger.
He says yer man had made about 10 attempts but couldn't get it out cos it was too tight.
When asked what happened in the end he simply replied,
"sure I jumped in and backed it out for him, first attempt, no bother"...

sgthighway

Armin_Tamzarian wrote: »

A close second could be a labourer that was on a site with us years ago.
Every day he'd have another corker for us.
One that sticks in my mind is his story of his bagagge handling days at Dublin Airport.
He started going on about some pilot who had trouble getting a 747 out of a hanger.
He says yer man had made about 10 attempts but couldn't get it out cos it was too tight.
When asked what happened in the end he simply replied,
"sure I jumped in and backed it out for him, first attempt, no bother"...

Doesn't seem it like Bull**** to as I did it myself one day. There hard enough to back in you know. Have you ever tried it?

sgthighway

sgthighway wrote: »

Doesn't seem it like Bull**** to as I did it myself one day. There hard enough to back in you know. Have you ever tried it?

Now that Bull****

Armin_Tamzarian

sgthighway wrote: »

Doesn't seem it like Bull**** to as I did it myself one day. There hard enough to back in you know. Have you ever tried it?

No, but I reckon I'd manage it no problem.
Back when I was in school I had a summer job at NASA.
One day they were having trouble reversing a Space Shuttle out of a hanger.
I jumped into the cockpit and got her out, no sweat.
True story...

Creamy Goodness

there was a guy who told me a story about his friends friends sister.

who was about 15 and drunk at a house party that she was hosting, i was told that she got really drunk and took the keys to her daddies brand new jaguar and took a drive down the main street of the town. i was told she also hit about 50 cars, when the case was brought to court, the judge let all charges dropped because daddy paid all the charges to fix all 50 cars that she had it.

:rolleyes:

wilson10

Auld fella of sixty did you say, sure thats not auld.

Anyway when I was a young fella I used to frequent a neighbours "rambling house". He was a batchelor & the local auld fellas used to gather round the fire at night to tell yarns and outright lies.

When a particular subject would come there was one old boy who used to wait till last so that he could come up with the greatest bull**** yarn to outdo all the others.

One that comes to mind was one night they were debating the best field in the locality for mushrooms. They all spoke of almighty crops and bucketfulls of mushrooms that came out of particular fields.

When everyone else had said their piece, Tommy piped up "Do yiz know what lads, yiz know nothin about mushrooms. I'll never forget arriving for work one morning when I was a young fella workin for John Matthews of the Dairy. He met me at the gate with a hurley stick and sez, here young fella would you take this and go out into the top field and bate down some mushrooms so the cows can get a bite to eat".

Well, there was no beating of that one.

Armin_Tamzarian

wilson10 wrote: »

Auld fella of sixty did you say, sure thats not auld.

Apologies for any implied ageism...
Just an expression I use for anyone older than me...

monkeynutter

A friend of a friend works in some capacity (office idiot / coffee monkey possibly) for Baz Lurhman the film director. This bit we know is true. Yet every year he comes home from Oz for xmas with the family with more stories of his goings on with this person and that.

The best ones to date include:

1. that he was at Nicole Kidmans wedding to Keith Urban
2. that he got VIP tickets to a Marilyn Manson / Linkin Park concert and went backstage and drunk everyone under the table, yet he barely manages 5 or 6 pints in the pub while telling us these stories
3. he regularly hangs out with Nicole Kidman

Luckily we only have to put up with this guy for 2 weeks a year, but they do tend to be the most entertaining 2 weeks!

Armin_Tamzarian

monkeynutter wrote: »

2. that he got VIP tickets to a Marilyn Manson / Linkin Park concert and went backstage and drunk everyone under the table, yet he barely manages 5 or 6 pints in the pub while telling us these stories

rofl

wilson10

Armin_Tamzarian wrote: »

Apologies for any implied ageism...
Just an expression I use for anyone older than me...

No offence taken, only havin a craic. Another good one from the same old guy. They were discussing terrible farm accidents. When they had all told yarns of terrible wounds and goring by bulls etc., Tommy came out with the goriest yarn to top them all.

"It was during the emergency (WW2), there was a crowd of us thrashing beyond in Carrolls of the Wood, and poor Peter Byrne got caught in the big belt driving the thrashing mill. The big wheel whipped his head clean off. I'll never forget till the day I die watching him doin a full lap of the field with the blood squirtin 6 foot in the air before he dropped dead."

Well they say that a chicken will run a bit before dropping if you cut it's head off. I've never tried it but I suppose that's where Tommy got the idea.

When I think about those nights in Johnny Morgan's what intrigues me is that nobody ever said f off you ffing liar. Everyone would just shake their head and say something like "Well wasn't that a holy terror".

Ah! The good old days.

Armin_Tamzarian

Here's one Grampa told me...

We can’t bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell ‘em stories that don’t go anywhere - like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville. I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on ‘em. ‘Give me five bees for a quarter,’ you’d say.
Now where were we? Oh yeah - the important thing was I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones...

scaletec

my great uncle[god rest his soul] was notorious round our way for the yarns he used to tell. one particular time in the pub[as usual] he and two of his mates set about besting eachother with lies about the building sites around the world they had worked on even though all three rarely saw the neighbouring parishs. anyway mate 1 started with the site in london that was 10 storey high with 200 men working on it. mate 2 quickly paled that one into insignificance with the job he was on in america with 30 storey high and 600 men working on it. ould john waited his turn and came out with this gem "well boys, i was on a job in dublin many years back and don't ask me how many storey high it was nor how many men were on it but all i know is there was a jcb flat out all day takin taybags away from the canteen door."

a classic i thought -love them ould characters-not many left

delllat

i have a 16.5 inch penis:rolleyes:

wilson10

delllat wrote: »

i have a 16.5 inch penis:rolleyes:

So

Hagar

Not bad for a girl.

Armin_Tamzarian

One more from Grampa...

I leave [as inheritance] these: a box of mint-condition 1918 liberty-head silver dollars. You see, back in those days, rich men would ride around in Zeppelins, dropping coins on people, and one day I seen J. D. Rockefeller flying by. So I run of the house with a big washtub and… hey! Where are you going?
... Anyway, about my washtub. I’d just used it that morning to wash my turkey, which in those days was known as... a walking bird. We'd always have walking bird on Thanksgiving with all the trimmings: cranberries, injun eyes, yams stuffed with gunpowder. Then we'd all watch football, which in those days was called "baseball"...
... Eh, why didn't you get something useful, like storm windows, or a nice pipe organ? I'm thirsty! Ew, what smells like mustard? There're sure a lot of ugly people in your neighborhood. Oh! Look at that one. Ow, my glaucoma just got worse. The president isn’t Democrat! Hello? I can't unbuckle my seat belt. Hello? [honks car horn] There are too many leaves in your walkway...

tosh_thedude

Don: Hey, Napoleon. What did you do last summer again?
Napoleon: I told you! I spent it with my uncle in Alaska hunting wolverines! Gosh!!!

Penn

Lad at work started saying how he was watching a few of his mates playing football for their local team. One of the other lads on the team got injured, but they had no subs. So his mates told the coach he could play. Said he then just ran onto the field wearing jeans and a hoodie and played for them.

We asked him did he do well.

He said "Aye! Sure didn't I score a goal and 7 points!"

Worst part was, he wasn't saying this as a joke. He was trying to convince us this really happened.

dak

delllat wrote: »

i have a 16.5 inch penis:rolleyes:

Thats definately a a load of B******Ks !

dak

There were these two cousins, one from Cavan and the other from Monaghan And the two inherit the family farm. It's not a bad farm, but unfortunately, after just a few years, they are in dire financial straits. In order to keep the bank (hiss hiss spit spit) from repossessing the farm, they need to purchase a bull so that they can breed their own stock.

The Monaghan cousin balances their chequebook, then takes their last 600 quid out to another farm, way down in the Midlands, where a man has a prize bull for sale. Upon leaving, he tells his cousin "When I get there, if I decide to buy the bull, I'll contact you to drive out after me and haul it home." The Monaghan fella arrives at the man's farm, inspects the bull, and decides he wants to buy it there and then. The bull's owner says he can sell it for £599, nothing more but nothing less. After paying him, the Monaghan guy drives to the nearest town to send his cousin a telegram to tell him the news.

He walks into the post office, and says, "I want to send a telegram to my cousin telling him that I've bought a great bull for our farm. I need him to hitch the farmyard trailer up to our van and drive out here so we can haul it home." The telegraph operator in the post office explains that he'll be glad to help, then adds, "No problem, it's just 11 shillings a word." Well, after paying for the bull, the Monaghan man only has £1 left.

What can he do? He realises that he'll only be able to send his cousin one bloody word. After thinking for a minute or two, he nods, and says, "I want you to send him just one word - the word 'comfortable'." The man behind the counter shakes his head. "How the hell is he ever going to know that you want him to hitch the trailer to the back of your van and drive out all the way to here in the Midlands to haul that bull back to your farm if you send him the word 'comfortable'?" The Monaghan man explains: "My cousin's from Cavan. He'll read it dead slow."

Armin_Tamzarian

Here's how to embellish a story...

Picture the scene. Wednesday morning in the Volley. Me and Tommy are playing pool. No problems, and I’m playing like Paul ****ing Newman by the way. I’m giving the boy here the tanning of a lifetime. So anyway, it comes to the final ball, the deciding shot of the tournament: I’m on the black and he’s sitting in the corner, looking all biscuit-arsed. Then this hard **** comes in. Obviously fancied himself. Starts looking at me. Right ****ing at me. Trying to put off, like, just for kicks. Looki ng at me as if to say, ‘Come ahead, square go.’ Well, you know me, I’m no looking for trouble but at the end of the day I’m the **** with the pool cue and I’m game for a swedge. So I squared up, casual like. So what does the hard **** do, or so-called hard ****? ****es it. Puts down his drink, turns around and gets the **** out of there. And after that, the game was mine.


Now here's what really happened...

Begbie was playing absolutely ****ing gash. He’s got a hangover so bad he can hardly hold the ****ing cue, never mind pot the ball. I’m doing my best to lose, trying to humour him, like, but it’s not doing any good: every time I touch the ball I pot something, every time Begbie goes near the table he ****s it up. So he’s got the hump, right, but finally I manage to set it up so all he’s go to do is pot the black to win one game and salvage a little pride and maybe not kick my head in, right. So he’s on the black, pressure shot, and it all goes wrong, big time. What does he do? Picks on this specky wee gadge at the bar and accuses him of putting him off by looking at him. Can you believe it? I mean, the poor **** hasn’t even glanced in our direction. He’s sitting there quiet as a mouse when Begbie clubs him with the cue. He was going to chib him, I tell you, then I thought he was going to do me. The Beggar is ****ing psycho, but he’s a mate, you know, so what can you do?