Liars' League

Next event: OUR 10th BIRTHDAY! Truth & Lies, Tuesday 11th April

The votes are in! The lie is cast! The truth will out! Yes, we've found half-a-dozen shameless, barefaced fictions to celebrate our TENTH BIRTHDAY on Tuesday April 11th (click for Facebook event) - and you're invited! There are body doubles & hipster couples, gay deceptions, quiz prodigies, shattered soldiers & an actor who just won't stick to the script ...

WINNING STORIES for TRUTH & LIES
Growing Up by Sarah Byrne *NEW AUTHOR*, read by Nicky Newman
Omee Palones and Heartfaces by Dane Buckley *NEW AUTHOR*, read by Peter Kenny
The Guide to Being a Dictator's Body Double by Cedrick Mendoza-Tolentino *NEW AUTHOR*, read by David Mildon
Keeping a Promise by Gordon Williams, read by Paul Clarke
What You Could Have Won by Dan Coxon, read by Patsy Prince
Actor by Pascal O'Hara, read by Beverley Longhurst

Join us in April to hear all these PLUS the very best of your #10WordLies (tweet them to @liarsleague for a chance to win free entry to the event and a free book) AND our justly notorious literary quiz with 10 free brand new books to win AND a load of Easter eggs!

Want more? Then keep checking the website and Facebook for our Top Ten LL Top Tens over the last decade, from most watched videos to best story titles ...

As ever, doors open at 7pm for a 7.30 start, it's £5 (cash only) on the door, and the show finishes around 9.30, after which we DRINK like it's our birthday, because in fact it is. Seating is first come first served - so it's an idea to get there a bit ahead of time if you want a good table - but if you have a party of five or more you can reserve a table by calling 07808 939535. 

The venue is in the basement bar (accessibility note - there are stairs) of:
The Phoenix
37 Cavendish Square
London
W1G 0PP

Nearest tube (a 5 minute walk) is Oxford Circus (Victoria, Central & Bakerloo lines).

Tiny Bald Patch by Pascal O'Hara

Tiny Bald Patch MP3

Read by Rich Keeble

Full podcast here

The problem with people, Xavier Frutiger believed, is we’re all so horribly sensitive. Well, perhaps that was a little melodramatic, but there was no denying Frutiger had suffered at the hands of his own sensitive nature. And it had all started with three little words thrown at Frutiger with the carefree whim of someone who couldn’t possibly believe a few syllables could dissolve the foundations of a man’s life.

‘Clipped a bit.’

‘What’s that, Banks?’ Frutiger asked, turning to a colleague.

‘You clipped a bit.’

‘What do you mean? Where?’

‘Up the top. At the back.’

Clove Oil and Vodka by Jonny Aldridge

Clove Oil and Vodka MP3

Read by Suzanne Goldberg

Full podcast here

If you’ve ever researched how to euthanise a fish, you’ll know that the most humane method is with clove oil and vodka. The juries which preside over internet forums are unanimous on that: five drops of clove oil to send it to sleep, then two shots of vodka to put the final nail in the coffin. That’s why I’m waiting alone with a bottle of vodka and my daughters’ two-year-old goldfish with dropsy, its body bloated and distended, its scales protruding like spines.

With humans, I suppose, situations like this require more precision and professionalism, and the whole arena of death – induced or otherwise – is steeped in ritual and taboo. This is one of my preoccupations since they found that I have stage four ovarian cancer. I now define life by how shrewd our coping mechanisms are, and death by the elegance of our exit strategy.

Gacy: A Life in Numbers by Anton Rose

Gacy: A Life in Numbers MP3

Read by Max Berendt

Full podcast here

3 – Children, you were the middle one, sandwiched between two sisters. You were the only boy but you were never good enough, never clever enough, never strong enough, never man enough.

4 – Years of age, when your father took a belt and beat you with it. Your earliest memory.  

4,1 – Fingers and a thumb, curled into a fist when there weren't any belts, or brooms, or shoes to hand. You counted each bruise, wore them as badges of shame, the blood soaking deeper each time.

4,1 – Fingers and a thumb, squeezed beneath your underwear, where they weren't supposed to be but you couldn't say stop and there was no one you could tell, stuck in a truck with a friend of the family while he did things to you that you didn't understand.

The Doctor's Bag by Tom Heaton

The Doctor's Bag MP3

Full podcast here

Read by Greg Page

This bag, officer? How did I come by such a fine bag?

It’s a doctor’s bag, officer. Classic design. Opens at the top, surprisingly capacious. I got it off Richardson, officer. It was his bag.

Richardson? Now I first met Richardson either in contemplation in his cosy place beneath the flyover or in the lovely park by the river with the views over the bridge or possibly in the Dove or the Ship. I can’t remember exactly because at the time I had an acute case of alcohol poisoning brought on, I believe, by a bad pint served me at one of those hostelries, and my memory of the subsequent events was permanently affected.

Night at the Pincio by Leonie Milliner

Night at the Pincio (Rack & Ruin podcast)

Read by Katy Darby

Rome, March, 1755

When I am Mr Hope’s wife, men will ask me, how did Rome look? I will say she burns, and her women are even more beautiful. Unpeeled, their skin glows with the fire of the torches hung from the cypress trees. I glimpse them from the window glass of Mr Adam’s coach as we pelter along the ridge above Rome, the mistresses among cypress groves in the almost dusk.

 ‘Where is it, the place we go?’ I enquire, turning from the window glass. It is uncomfortable and jolting in Mr Adam’s coach; the more so because I have to sit beside Mr Hope and his incessant hands.

‘The Pincio,’ Mr Adam replies. But I know that. I know we go to the Pincio, but what place is it that burns so brightly torch-smoke hangs bilious over Rome and men are in their sleeves and women in donkey-masks?

On Depression by Joshan Esfandiari Martin

On Depression MP3

Read by Jim Cogan

Full podcast here

There was a village terrorized by a giant. It could come at any hour, beating its chest to fall with greed upon the villagers’ crops. They constructed a ditch and palisades, but neither kept the beast out. It marched with ease across these protections, lifting itself upon the motte, and crashing through the wooden gates. Sometimes it set itself on a rampage through the village, eating livestock. Then, as these dwindled, it began to eat people. Some were chewed there and then. Others were dragged away, their piteous screams heard at night from beyond the forest.

The Coat by Sarah Courtauld

The Coat MP3

Read by Gloria Sanders

Last year, I chose a pottery class, and Max spent most of the night outside, smoking. This year, it was his turn to choose our secret Valentine’s destination. Now we were in an Uber, and I was blindfolded, gulping prosecco from the bottle, getting it down my neck with every speed bump.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked. But secretly, I already knew. I’d been dropping hints about the Matthew Bourne thing at Sadler’s Wells for months, and the run ended in four days. I couldn’t wait. It was so sweet of him. Ballet wasn’t really his thing, but he knew how much I loved it.

He’d really pulled out all the stops this year, our tenth Valentine’s. He’d even bought me a dress. I tried it on in the bathroom and had to laugh silently, my hand over my mouth. It wasn’t so much a dress, it was more a collection of bright red knots. The whole look was Eurotrash prostitute meets upscale fishing net, and I was the gigantic tuna caught in it, bits of me bulging out in unexpected places.

 

Max's Date by Lucy Smith

Max's Date MP3

Read by Nicholas Delvalle 

Max rented a large apartment on the top two floors of a house on Warwick Square. He used to own a car, a silver Porsche, which he parked in the space right outside the flat, a space he considered his. When the basement flat had taken to parking there, a battered VW with crisp packets and empty juice cartons scattering the back, he had played it cool, bided his time. He could tell they were disorganised, scatty types. They had three kids under four and who in their right mind does that? So he waited until the resident’s permit in the windscreen had run down and then reported it to the council, right on the expiry date. It had been towed within the hour.

Our Winter Tryst by Kim French

Our Winter Tryst MP3

Read by Tony Bell

“I’ve always wanted a Winter Date,” you say.  You turn to catch me looking at you.

“A Winter Date?”

“To stave off the winter blues,” you say.

“Sounds great.  Let’s try it,” I say.

“Five days of every year.  From January 15^th to the 20^th.”

It is not my place to question.

Where did we go first?

“The Crooked House.”

“The Crooked Boot.”

“Prague.”

 

The Gordon Knot by Alan Graham

The Gordon Knot MP3

Read by Louisa Gummer

Heart racing, I get up from the cluttered restaurant table and quickly yet calmly walk over to the till. I smile awkwardly at the head waiter and ask to pay half the bill for table twelve. Then I’m struck by the sudden thought that this isn’t my best strategy here, and I abruptly amend my request. The whole bill, I blurt out. Please can I pay for what we’ve both ordered.

Before you get carried away into thinking my motives here are charitable or selfless, I should probably confess that I’m not being entirely selfless in wanting to pay the entire bill. Office gossip. That’s what I’m worried about. How the all-entangling network of whisperers will react Monday when it learns of my actions. It would get around the place pretty fast that I had waited until the moment that Gordon from Accounts had disappeared to the loo before abandoning our date.

Flat-Packed Love by John Vicious

Flat-Packed Love MP3

Read by Grace Cookey-Gam

‘So, where do we start?’ He claps his hands together excitedly, and posts a wide grin in my direction, appropriating all the space in the room.

‘With the instructions?’ I motion to the pamphlet on the floor, which was expelled from the packaging when he decided to rip it open. Upon it is an illustration of the metal-framed bed, perfectly constructed, symmetrical, resolved. Above the picture, ‘SOMN’ is printed in austere capital letters. I don’t know how you pronounce it. He leaps across the wood and metal bars strewn asunder on the floor – as I said, his doing – and falls to his knees to inspect the booklet. Why is he on my floor? I wonder to myself. Two other people offered to help me, and I selected him. And now he is poring over this instruction pamphlet in earnest, scratching his stubbled chin side-to-side like a grotesque caricature.

RACK & RUIN, Tuesday 14th March

 

It's all gone tits up this month and no mistake, so on Tuesday March 14th you're invited to join our pity party and drown your sorrows. Our six tales-of-fail feature stomp-happy giants, ailing pets, serial killers, catacomb seductions, decadent down-and-outs and - perhaps most distressingly - creeping male pattern baldness. (Here's the Facebook event with full details - just click if you're interested ...) 

 

WINNING STORIES FOR RACK & RUIN
Tiny Bald Patch by Pascal O'Hara NEW AUTHOR, read by Rich Keeble
Clove Oil and Vodka by Jonny Aldridge, read by Suzanne Goldberg
On Depression by Joshan Esfandiari Martin, read by Jim Cogan
Gacy: A Life in Numbers by Anton Rose, read by Max Berendt
Night at the Pincio by Leonie Milliner, read by Katy Darby
The Doctor's Bag by Tom Heaton, read by Greg Page

 

See you there for a ruinous night where writers write, actors read, audience listens, WTF? meets FML and everybody wins!

Doors open at 7pm, show kicks off at 7.30 and lasts for about two hours with a half-hour interval. Tickets are £5 (cash only) on the door and include a programme, entry to the infamous book quiz, free sweets and fun times! To reserve a table for 4 or more call 07808 939535 and ask nicely. 

The venue is in the basement bar (accessibility note - there are stairs) of:
The Phoenix
37 Cavendish Square
London
W1G 0PP

Nearest tube (a 5 minute walk) is Oxford Circus (Victoria, Central & Bakerloo lines).

And in other news ... our next submission deadline closes tomorrow!

It's our tenth birthday in April so we're celebrating a decade of lies with ... er, more lies. Easter's theme is TRUTH & LIES so any story which addresses lying, liars, alternate facts, truth, truthseekers, detectives, fibbers, fakes, dissembling or the grey area between reality and fiction is sought for this theme. Send your original unpublished stories of 800-2000 words as a .doc, .docx or .rtf to [email protected] by 11.59pm on Sunday 5th March.