In what experts are calling “the inevitable collapse of the Blame Tower,” a local man — whose name we won’t mention, because frankly, we’ve heard enough already — has finally run out of fresh lies to tell.

For years, he spun tales so wild you’d think Netflix had optioned his life for a true-crime drama. There was the ex-wife — a primary school teacher, no less — whose bruises (allegedly from hordes of feral 4-year-olds) were actually, according to him, part of a cunning plan to make him hit her. Because yes, that’s totally what teachers do between lesson plans and handing out gold stars.

Then there were the mysterious events after “The Main Event” — capitalised, because of course it is.
Within 24 hours:

• Security camera codes changed (thanks, Securitas, for the same-day service on shady requests).
• Home computer wiped cleaner than his conscience.
• Evidence? Vanished faster than his credibility.

But the problem with this kind of lifestyle is… maintenance. You can’t just lie once. No, you have to lie again to cover the first lie, then lie again to cover the second, and before you know it, you’ve got a plot so tangled even you forget the script.

Witnesses in court reported a surreal experience: listening to his testimony was “like watching someone improvise a soap opera they’d forgotten the plot to halfway through.” One attendee described it as “Shakespeare meets bargain-bin reality TV.”

And here’s the kicker — at some point, the loyal audience starts to wander off. Even family and friends reach the stage where standing in court under oath and lying for someone else suddenly feels… less like loyalty, more like perjury.

Now, the once-confident storyteller faces his greatest challenge yet: a public who can spot contradictions faster than he can invent them.

As one neighbour put it:

“He’s contradicted himself so many times, if you stitched all his stories together, you’d have 14 different endings to the same film.”