I use to work with a compulsive liar! I have (and had) some friends who were the 'If you've got a black cat, then I have a black panther' type, which use to irritate the s*** out of me (unless you put them together, then it's hilarious :lol:), but nothing has ever compared to my old work buddy.
Firstly, the guy was dangerous. I'm an aircraft engineer, which is a job that requires quite a lot of care and attention in everything you do, which I'm sure you will all agree (£18 million aircraft with up to eight lives inside - and it's my name on the air-worthiness certificate!). So, how this guy got through to be at such a position was always beyond me, but, suffice it to say, he is no longer in the job!
Anyway, he, too, told so many lies that he forgot what he had and hadn't told, and how he told it. But it was constant BS stories. Constant! I even dragged him aside once and pleaded with him to stop with the lies because I was so sick of them. I thought it might be because he was a lot younger than most of us, and was trying to prove something. But I witnessed him lying to his family on the phone about stuff, so he was just a plain compulsive liar.
Here are two classics:
Me and this other guy were working on an aircraft moaning about work (as one does) and chatted about how nice it would be to win the lottery (as, I'm sure, everyone does). All completely tongue-in-cheek, we made a pact that if either of us won, we would help the other out. Anyway, this lad walks up to us and gets the gist of what we're talking about. The guy points out that you'll know who your true friends are when you come into big-bucks. This is true, and neither of us could argue with him about that. Then he went on to say that 'one of his mates' had won the lottery. Ok, this is possible, but unlikely. But he proceeded to tell us how his mate was a multi-millionaire now. Well, good for him. I asked him how much money he won, and the lad replied "fifty-thousand pounds". Hmmm, there is a big chunk of change missing between fifty-grand and several million. So when we asked him how he got several million from fifty-thousand, he replied "Oh, he left the fifty-grand in the bank and made it from the interest."
Our airfield had a Hawk that helped keep it free of other birds, and we were stood on the hard-standing watching this thing being trained by it's owner. We were talking (again, all tongue-in-cheek - and, yes, we talk a lot of crap at work) about how the relationship between the hawk and it's owner was probably a selfish one, in that the bird most likely only comes back because it know's it's gonna get fed. This lad was with us, and proceeded to tell us that 'his mate' had a crow, which was captured from the wild, and trained in the same fashion as the hawk we were watching. So, his mate wanders around everywhere with a crow on his arm, which flies away and comes back when it's called. Hmmm.
But the ultimate classic that makes him a legend:
The story goes that he and 'his mate' were walking back from school one day and were passing a field. In this field was a goat, and apparently the goat was giving his mate a 'dodgy eye'. His buddy was apparently unhappy at the way this goat was looking at him, so he leaped over the fence, charged at this goat and delivered a flying-kick in the billy-gruff's leg. This broke the poor goats leg, and no sooner had he committed this act of cruelty he felt sorry for what he had done to the animal. So, out of sympathy, he picked this goat up (must have been a small goat!) and carried it home where he cared for it. During the day, when 'his mate' was at school, he use to let the goat graze on the local round-a-bout (how the goat stayed on the round-a-bout without wandering off was a mystery to me. The bigger mystery is how the goat found it's way too and from the round-a-bout every day on it's own!). Anyway, when 'his mate' returned from school, he would find the goat loyally waiting for him at his garden gate (!). One fateful evening, however, when the goat was returning from the round-a-bout to meet his new master, the billy-gruff was struck by a car being driven by no other than 'his mate's' dad! Anyway, the car hit the goat with such an impact that it's horns got stuck in the front bumper of the car, killing the poor animal. And the father? Apparently he's now doing time for goat murder.
Sorry this is a long post, but I really wanted to share these stories with you guys. Even today, we reminisce of the legend that was this lad. I hope you enjoyed them.
Any ways, my missus has a TDCi Focus. I won't deny that it is a fantastic car but, as mentioned before, it's a VERY different car. I'd never double-take the Focus when I park it up, but always double or triple-take at the Corrado when I lock it up :grin: Every model of Corrado is sort-after and a classic, the only 'classic' that will become of the Focus is the RS or ST, not the other models! The guys a fruit-loop :cuckoo: If I drive the Focus, it's to get from A to B. If I drive the Corrado, I take the longest route possible a get a tingle of pride when I see people looking or making comments (comments are usually: "Nice!"). I had a motorbike pull up next to me as I was hurtling down the M3 the other week. He slowed down to drop along side me, looked at me, pointed at my car, gave me a big thumbs-up and then carried on. Would that ever happen to me if I was driving the Focus? No, it wouldn't. Ever.
