The name by which Helen Day knew Tim Baggott for her first six months at school (she joined in the fifth year). Despite everybody else calling him Tim, she stood by this belief and the further assertion that Tim's dad had made millions as a biscuit designer (the Rich Tea and Bourbon Creme being his greatest achievements).

On the subject of convincing the gullible of untrue things, a mate of mine once convinced another kid that his uncle was the hand inside Edd The Duck. Also, that the reason he had slightly slanty eyes was because he was born while his parents were on a walking tour of China. However, I can't really gloat because I was once convinced by my sister that she was the girl on the BBC test card playing noughts and crosses. And I believed for a whole term that Howard Maxwell's middle name was Oermantrudie. It was actually Oakley.

I fell for a similar thing, only sort of reversed. When I was a wee thing, my family had a record of songs from Disney's Jungle Book. On the front cover there was a photo of a boy about my age, reading the book in question, surrounded by loads of stuffed Disney toys. All my relatives (especially dotty old aunts) used to think I was a cute little thing and would point to the picture on the front of this record, and say "ooh, look, that's you there! Yes, it is! Oh yes, that's you" etc. I swear I used to sit for hours staring at this photo, utterly convinced it was in fact me, racking my brains trying to remember having this photo taken...

A lad in my secondary school firmly believed that without my specs I could only see in black & white. Falling for this at 12 is one thing. Still believing it at 16 is quite another.

When the French exchange students were over, we told our class dunce that "fromage frais" was a cool way to say "Hi, howya doin'?"
Imagining him in shades, snapping his fingers like the Fonz, and saying "heeeeeeey... fromage frais..." was strangely satisfying.

If you're going to tell lies, at least have some consistency; a girl in our school would tell people that her uncle was Mr Soft off the mints advert, then get confused and tell another group that her cousin was Mr Soft off the mints advert.
Christmas must have been mental, with loads of wibbly-wobbly relatives walking into stuff.
(One of MY best lies was when I told Nadia in my form that the redness in her eye was caused by a clitoris, resulting in her getting grounded by her mum for screaming "there's a clitoris in my eye").
Bless.

Oh man, Ivan's message reminded my of a famous picture I was in when I was a kid (or so I thought). I had a little badge of Drew Barrymore in ET wearing this stripy skivvy/turtleneck top, of which I happened to own one which was almost identical. I was about the same age as her at the time I owned it, and was utterly convinced it was me... and that somehow I'd met ET, had a photo taken and then completely forgotten about it.
Well, that sort of stuff happens when you meet aliens, doesn't it? They take your memories.