Liars' League

Never Look A Gift Donkey in the Mouth by Callum Jacobs

Read by Claire Louise Amias

When I returned home on that Friday evening, the day after our first date, and I found the bunch of tulips behind the recycling bin, I was thrilled. Let me be clear, I’m not the kind of girl who’s particularly impressed by romantic gestures, and I’m pretty much ambivalent when it comes to flowers in general, but honestly it made my day. It had been a bastard of a week; my year nine bottom set had been behaving like absolute monsters, the head of department had been whining at me about the reports for my GCSE class which were now a full week late, and some total bellend had stolen my World’s Best Teacher mug. To be fair, there are a few of them floating around the staffroom, but still, you don’t touch a colleague’s mug - that’s the first thing they teach you on your PGCE for fuck’s sake.

Let There Be Tigers by Sara Corris

Read by Andrea Hall

I’m not thinking about you, Ian.

I haven’t spent this sleepless night playing “How Soon Is Now” on a continuous loop and alternately missing you so much it makes my chest ache, and wanting you here so I can scream at you until my throat bleeds.

#

I check whether anyone’s gotten back to me on my manuscript. Nada.

If I get my book published, he’ll like me again. Wanna fuck me and stuff. Or at least talk to me.

 

Just Not Cricket by Sophie Bloom

Just Not Cricket MP3

Read by Gloria Sanders

I’d genuinely decided there were no nice men left in London, possibly the world, before I met Mark: that they’d all been snapped up or kidnapped or something. And then Mark happened.

Full disclosure: I’d been stood up the night we met. It was Friday and the pub was heaving: I was glaring into my phone, thinking about hunting down Johnny No-Show from Tinder and possibly killing him with an axe, when Mark asked if he could join me. I didn’t really want company, not even Johnny No-Show – in fact, especially not that prick – but I mumbled OK and he sat down. 

The Welsden Herald Hedge Witch by Liam Hogan

Read by Carrie Cohen

“Hello?”

“Ah, um, is this ...?” The voice of a mouse, ringing the doorbell of the neighbourhood cat, and hoping they don't answer. “Is that ... the gardener?”

“Yes dear, this is Agnes Rose, The Welsden Herald's Gardening Agony Aunt. Do you have a horticultural conundrum for me?”

“Are you ...?” The voice drifted, before coming back with something like renewed confidence. “Are you also known as the green-fingered witch?”

Understanding by Hannah Hoare

Read by Stephen Butterton

As the howl of the siren for Daily Communion ebbed away, she removed her fingers from her ears. Through the thick glass dome, she could see far across the desert city: the pyramid temple with its needle-sharp spire; houses of varying heights, with their own glass domes housing home-cultivated spandle plant, turnaberry, blue-leafed leet. Beyond this the desert, and above, the pale green sky flecked with diamond day-stars. She wanted Father with her.

Usually she preferred the solitude of the dome, but after the news this morning, his cool blue body beside her would have provided some comfort. However, even today, he could not miss Communion. The sky shifted from pale green to a deep teal. The stars grew brighter.

As the hands on her wrist-timer reached the twenty-fifth hour, Father knocked softly, then came up through the hatch. His black eyes glistened. “They have come.”

Good Enough to Eat by Helen Morris

Good Enough to Eat MP3

Read by Patsy Prince - full podcast here

I fell in love with him over pudding. Not dessert. I am not a woman who would eat a dessert. I would desert a dessert. I am a pudding woman. A woman who wields a spoon, not a fork. Forks can fork off.

Things had started well. He had chosen the pork terrine as a starter.  A brave and bold choice.  I like a man who isn’t afraid of a good bit of pork.  He ate it with gusto. I smiled.