You'll have seen it before, that story where out valiant hero goes undercover into a criminal organisation- such as the Mafia or some satanic street gang- in an effort to bring them down. It's a good story, when done correctly; it allows for a unique insight into our lead character, to see them placed into testing, morally grey situations they must overcome, without blowing their cover, whilst, also, offering them a succulent temptation to betray the light and join the 'dark side'! What isn't so great, however, about these stories is their origin. Some poor soul gets murdered or raped and our detective hero decides enough is enough, this group is goin' down- fair enough, no issue with that- but the ways they get into these organisations in the first place; the 'in' as its known, are usually highly coincidental, convenient and dependent on the leader of the gang and every other member of it, bar the one who is always overruled, being an absolute, gullible idiot. In constructing these 'ins', the method in which our guy will infiltrate the group, there's often some kind of quick-fix, easy explanation to the detective's sudden, unexplained appearance on the scene. They were in prison, in Kosovo, for 15 years and just got out or they've had enough of being "used" by their country and have changed their ways. Far too often, the villains simply accept these explanations, without stopping to question the poor manner in which the lies have been constructed and our guy is 'in'. Move the story forward. What does it matter if the villains are fools? These infiltration operations are usually swift and action-packed by design; utilising a narrative technique to overwhelm your senses and prevent you from questioning the logic behind the writing. 24 was excellent at this. It might be some, convenient, sudden heist that NEEDS to be done that night, bringing the villains a ship load of money and thus making our detective instantly trustworthy and reliable. Job done. Move the story forward. Writing a similar operation of my own has led me to question and theorise upon what is the ultimate lie; a lie told so astutely, so infallibly, that even the best of villains would take a chance on them. One not convenient, nor too complex; one that impersonates the truth in its purest form. I've narrowed it down to 8 factors. 8 principles that you need to have in place to tell the perfect lie. Using the concept of infiltration that I've already discussed, I'm now going to present them to you. Some of them come from the preparation, others from within the execution. One overriding principle you will find within this is that of consistency (it's the #1 point; I'll get to it later). A great lie will need forethought and projection. It's often suggested that a person's 'instinct' is to lie, as opposed to tell the truth. This is, frankly, absurd. One's instinct might be to avoid pain or humiliation, which might indirectly fuel a lie but all in all the body is ill-equipped to tell an instinctive lie. Lying requires planning. A perfect liar will have planned for everything but for the rest of us, if ever asked a question we haven't prepared an answer to, always utilise the truth or, at least, something close to it. It's imperative in establishing a baseline status quo. There is nothing more revealing to a fellow man than a person caught out in a knee-jerk lie.