Liars' League

Elephant's Graveyard by Quintin Forrest

Read by Dave Zezulka

All right then mates, I don't mind saying it was a bad situation. Fucking bad, actually. I couldn't believe they'd just left me like that, the others. Well I'm a big bloke, you know, I'm hardly inconspicuous, and yet there I was anyway, standing around like a prize fucking lemon in the arse-end of nowhere, with nothing but shit trees and desert in any direction, as far as I could see. There was no pool, there was no caff, there were no proper facilities, in fact there didn't seem to be any sort of infrastructure at all.

The Sacred Elephant by Alan McCormick

The Sacred Elephant

Read by Rebecca Hands-Wicks

 

At the Sacred Elephant Thai restaurant in a small Middlesex town near Heathrow, four people take their regular seats at a corner table by the window. It's an early Saturday evening in December and the restaurant is half full.

 

'This is good, we will be served quicker,' says Krystiana, a blonde woman in her late twenties with a prominent pregnancy-bump swelling her white lace top. She shifts in her seat, and pushes the table away from her. 'It is not comfortable. I need room, the baby needs room.'

Narky Jack by Michael Spring

 

Read by Sabina Cameron

The pirates are inconveniently situated for the harbour, and this spring, they have begun to let everyone know. The situation, when the wind from the mountains sweeps the scent of pines over their cabins, gets worse day by day. The pirates are restless. They need the salt tang of the sea.

No one is sure what to do. Their swaggering is unnerving. The bars and supermarkets run out of rum. They spit at the feet of the townsfolk, most of whom are upstanding individuals, apart, that is, from Tess, the beautiful, dark-haired prostitute who has a flat above the dry-cleaners with en-suite facilities.

Chunk by Peter Higgins

(novel extract)

Read by David Mildon

Living here was shit.  A month ago, just after they'd moved, he'd written that on a wall down the industrial estate behind Ikea: LVNG HRE is shiT.  He'd spent ten whole minutes of his life writing it, in big black-and-gold letters, and he considered this to be time very well spent.  He was proud of it.  It looked dead good.  And, of course, it was true.  Living here was shit.

Automatic Upgrade by Maggie Womersley

Automatic Upgrade

Read by Patsy Prince

 

Ramesh would never know exactly what time his grandmother died on the flight from Mumbai to London, but he would always say it was the excitement of the in-flight meal that killed her.