Liars' League

Tree House Date by S. Soliar

Read by Shin-Fei Chen

(For the full podcast of the night, please click here)

Lay it square in the daylight, Jodie, put your face right against the window so he can see you in all your puppy-fat glory. Here’s me: a child. You’d think some of these guys would be put off, but four weeks and not a single john who is. One day I’ll meet a man who goes white in the face over the idea. I’ll cuff him to me and we’ll do a drive-thru in Vegas. For that I have to wait four years. That’s funny, isn’t it? Here I am doing what I’m doing, but I’ve got to wait four years to get married. This one’s looking at me like he just got a promotion.

Where can we go? Mr. Mumbles, is it? As though if he’s quiet enough he won’t have to hear himself say it.

You’re getting ahead. Leaning myself right through his window. Not much filling my tank top, hollow where a tit might one day be if I live that old, but for some of them, it’s what they like, right?

 

Women & Girls, Tuesday August 14th

On Tuesday August 14th, Liars' League proudly presented our annual soiree sorting the women from the girls, and telling stories from the other side of the gender divide ... (Click for Facebook event - and here for details of our next deadline and event.) 

From truant wives to sarky schoolgirls, pyromaniac editors to teenage hookers via tantruming mums, we showcased the best of female-focused fiction.

WINNING STORIES for WOMEN & GIRLS

Trouble at the Uptown Espresso by Kristin King *NEW AUTHOR* - read by Sarah Gain
Tree House Date by S. Soliar *NEW AUTHOR* - read by Shin-Fei Chen
How to be Unemployed by Alice Franklin *NEW AUTHOR* - read by Lois Tucker
Apotheosis of Maya and Bibi by Rebecca Skipwith - read by Susan Moisan
Homework by Anna Savory - read by Gloria Sanders

Doors open at 7pm for a 7.30 start and tickets are £5 on the door (cash only sorry, but there is a cashpoint across the street). Drinks and food will be available at the bar, though there are also free sweets and the infamous interval quiz features fabulous books to be won! (Seminal novels by women writers, this month). There's no pre-booking, but tables for four or more can be reserved by calling 07808 939535.

The venue is the downstairs bar at:

The Phoenix Pub
37 Cavendish Square 
London 
W1G 0PP

Accessibility note: Access to the basement is via stairs: there is no lift, sadly. 

The Phoenix is 5 minutes' walk from Oxford Circus tube station, which is on the Victoria, Bakerloo and Central lines. Map here)

The Greatest Tiddlywinks Player in the Galaxy by Adam Lewis Smith

The Greatest Tiddlywinks Player MP3

Read by Gloria Sanders

As loud as the words on the poster were, it was his face that grabbed me: that of a plump-chinned, red-cheeked wizard with an open-tooth grin supporting a floor-brush moustache and eyes so wide and white they only needed wolves howling at them.

Beneath this expanse of face, two tiny hands sprayed a flurry of coloured discs while a pair of silhouetted spectators watched in Munch-esque disbelief. In tomato-red capitals, above the menagerie:

THE GREATEST TIDDLYWINK PLAYER IN THE GALAXY!

£2 A MATCH, £5 FOR BEST OF THREE!!

A Rearguard Action by Colin Adams

A Rearguard Action MP3

Read by Peter Doolan

My secondary school was a small Christian Brothers school in a suburb of South Dublin. There were two Irish teachers there. Mr Edward Lowry was a pugnacious, portly, pustulous git of a man.  Years of disillusionment and disappointment squatted on his shoulders slowing his gait to a malevolent saunter, like burger van on a drive-by.  He had hands like the blades of spades and under his oxter he routinely carried a rolled-up tabloid newspaper. The black ink from the paper and the pale white dust of the chalk formed demented yin-yang symbols on his palms. These palms we saw often- raised in anger slapping desks, students and books on tables.  Every inch of him carried the threat of violence and even though hitting students was banned in Ireland in 1982, Lowry had decided to take it under advisement.  Rumour had it that his brother was head of the union and so he was impossible to sack. 

Prince Harry's Last Hurrah by Quintin Forrest

Prince Harry's Last Hurrah MP3

Read by Alex Woodhall

On the morning of the wedding, I woke up in Claridge’s. Good old Claridge’s, they look after you there. Hopefully. Today, I was going to be on telly in front of an audience of millions. My biggest crowd since Mother's funeral. That unforgettable day, seared into the hard-drive, however much I tried to blot it out. Often, admittedly, with some success, but it was looming back now. The trek on foot, halfway across London, as the Gen Pop followed, both in town and at home, the horse-drawn progress of a doomed princess. At least this time I'd be in the carriage, I supposed.

If I made it. Was I so mired in sin that I was going to disappoint? It seemed a distinct possibility. Where was everything? On Sky News, the Great British Public were queuing up outside the chapel - why? What were they hoping for? La Markle to arrive looking totally doable, in a long white dress. And for the H-Meister to show up minus his strides? Would the loathed public get their wish? Where were my trousers? The old soup and fish was laid out somewhere, surely, but where? Had I given it a test-run the night before, in front of the guys and the ... specialist courtesans Rafe knew from Babes of Mayfair? I had a horrible feeling that I probably had.

Literally having an existential crisis by Rushiv Nayee

Literally having an existential crisis MP3

Read by Nicholas Delvalle

I won’t take you back to the beginning. I don’t have the time. However, I will begin with some background – some insight into how things used to be, during what I, and others around me, considered my artistic apex.

I essentially found myself in the centre of things. A fundamental component. Not like AND or OR, though. I was different. I had spark. Edge. I frequented dinner parties in Chelsea, rooftop bars in Manhattan. I spent time backstage at fashion shows in Tokyo. You’d find me nestled snugly between sharp punchlines and popping up in fierce intellectual debate. I had it all.

I’d previously been relatively content in the background, just pottering about for a few hundred years. I’d watch from afar as every now and then colleagues would experience a surge in popularity and burst into the limelight. I never dreamt it would happen to me.  

Schmiedeleut's Play by Han Stickings Smith

Schmiedeleut's Play MP3

Read by Tony Bell

Schmiedeleut wrote a play, and I read it, and I copied it out for myself twelve times in a total of twenty-seven of my notebooks. Then I saw it performed on stage, and in the final act I jumped over the brass rail and I cracked my skull and my ribs when I hit and that’s why I’ve been plastered down here, I suppose.

The attendants, admittedly, are pleasant enough. The nurses bring me cake, which I can’t eat, and tea, which I never drank anyway. When their crests of smiling and chatter have rolled on, they clear the way for the doctors’ own rituals. These tend to involve a cold tube, my shaven nostrils, and a heavy liquid that may or may not contain the same recycled remnants of the surplus cake and tea. It smells the same, certainly, but then everything always does. The principal difficulty regarding the doctors and nurses is that they change in their faces every time they come, and, what’s more, that they all appear in essentially identical uniform. This brings a fresh ordeal each newly risen morning: that of calculating whether the bright-clad figure approaching is after my lips or my nose. (I can no longer count on waking in time to benefit from the rule that the nurses precede the doctors, unfortunately.)

A Beer in the Interval by Frances Salter

A Beer in the Interval MP3

Read by Louisa Gummer

It was the height of summer when the curate Gordon E. E. Garside unlocked the chancel safe of St Mark’s, Gloucestershire, and wrapped the communion silver in an anorak. He placed it in his backpack alongside a spare pair of underpants and a toothbrush. During the cycle from Berkshire to the Oxfordshire village of Adderbury, he stopped three times at local pubs to enjoy an ale, bought with small change from the parish collection box.

By the time he rang the bell of her house, his shirt and trousers were soaked. She spotted his red face through the keyhole with the sort of excitement that is close to fear.

“Gordon!” She wanted to put her arms around him, but found she could not.

“Hello! I would have rung ahead, but no idea where my phone has got to.”

“How did you know I’d be in?”

“A happy accident.”

Next event: RISE & FALL on Tuesday 12th June

On Tuesday June 12th Liars' League celebrates soaring summer temperatures (hopefully) and plummeting bar prices (2 for 1 burgers) at our RISE & FALL event - and you're invited!

Join a curate fallen from grace, a Titan of tiddlywinks, a neurotic adverb, a plummeting playwright and Prince Harry himself on a rocket-powered rollercoaster ride through triumph and failure. (You can also learn some Irish Gaelic from the world's most terrifying teacher ...) We've got five new authors PLUS our infamous book quiz PLUS free sweets and it's still just a FIVER a ticket. 

WINNING STORIES for RISE & FALL

A Beer in the Interval by Frances Salter NEW AUTHOR - read by Louisa Gummer
A Rearguard Action by Colin Adams NEW AUTHOR - read by Peter Doolan
Schmiedeleut's Play by Han Stickings Smith NEW AUTHOR - read by Tony Bell
The Greatest Tiddlywink Player in the Galaxy by Adam Lewis Smith NEW AUTHOR - read by Gloria Sanders
Literally Having an Existential Crisis by Rushiv Nayee NEW AUTHOR - read by Nick Delvalle
Prince Harry's Last Hurrah by Quintin Forrest - read by Alex Woodhall

Doors open at 7pm for a 7.30 start and tickets are £5 on the door (cash only sorry, but there is a cashpoint across the street). Drinks and food will be available at the bar, and the infamous interval quiz features fabulous free books to be won! There's no pre-booking, but tables for four or more can be reserved by calling 07808 939535.

The venue is the downstairs bar at:

The Phoenix Pub
37 Cavendish Square 
London 
W1G 0PP

Accessibility note: Access to the basement is via stairs: there is no lift, sadly. 

The Phoenix is 5 minutes' walk from Oxford Circus tube station, which is on the Victoria, Bakerloo and Central lines. Map here)

BUT WHAT ABOUT OUR NEXT WRITING DEADLINE? Why, it's Women & Girls on July 1st. Click here to find out more: 

Wine Frame of Mind by Joseph Francis

Click for podcast (fourth story)

Read by James Price

"Right this way sir," says the impeccably dressed French sommelier leading Eric Benson, thirty-three, six months single and rapidly greying, down a dim corridor. They swiftly pass a series of red-curtained rooms that hide the inhabitants, but not their conversations.

“You c*nt.”

“I would die for you!”

“You’re a liar.”

“I adore you ...”

Decluttering by Susan Smith

Click for podcast (eighth story)

Read by Claire Lacey

CDs and DVDs go into the pink charity sack along with a single Blu-ray disc. Where Eagles Dare. Never watched it. Never plan to. The bag is put on the front doorstep and I slam the door.

I donate Terry’s clothes to PDSA and smile sweetly at the woman in the shop as I dump the bulging bin liners on the counter. It feels like the right thing to do. He hated animals.

I take all the plates from the kitchen dresser and place them with great care in a box. Authentic bone china. A gift from Terry’s dear old Auntie Mabel when he moved her into that care home near King’s Lynn. God rest her soul, she didn’t last long after that.

They’d belonged to her mother before her. Family heirlooms, you could say. Precious.

Action by Will Conway

Click for podcast (fifth story)

Read by Rich Keeble

His training had prepared him for this. Every muscle in his body was tensed as he crouched - except his legs - because of the crouch. He performed a quick weapon check. One, two guns … plus the Bowie knife strapped to his back. A blade between his shoulder blades. So, three blades. On top of that, his nerves were so sharp he wasn't sure if he should declare them as dangerous weapons too. But he didn't have time to start counting his nerves; there were probably bloody hundreds of them. No time to talk to himself either. Radio silence. Just like in Beirut. He knew he was in for a long wait. But he could wait. He was patient.

Six long minutes later he heard the guard's replacement arrive. He understood the short conversation about the previous guard's wife and her stew because he was fluent in Russian. Cooper enjoyed flexing the muscles in his mind as well as his body.

Lighter than Air by Anton Rose

Click for podcast (third story)

Read by Miranda Harrison

I meet him down by the river like I said he would. He’s watching a mallard go by on the water, three ducklings following in its wake. At first I think he’s waving, his hand held awkwardly in the air like a flag at half-mast. But he isn’t waving. His arm is held aloft by a small balloon, its ribbon attached to his wrist.

"What's that?" I say, startling him.

He looks confused for a moment, and then he sees what I'm referring to. "It's nothing," he says, pulling his arm down against his side. He leans forward and kisses me. "Thanks for coming."

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course." He smiles, but it looks forced. "Everything's fine."

Chiaroscuro by Richard Shury

Click for podcast (seventh story)

Read by Rich Keeble

I want the job of naming paint colours. That’ll pass the time. How do you even apply for that? On my CV it says: "I’ve named a few goldfish in my time (MacGyver and Robin Hood). Will that do?" Perhaps I should give examples of the names I’ve come up with for colours:

• Badger cull – a kind of dark red
• Unwashed bedsheet – a blotchy off-white
• Summer’s sigh – deep yellow
• Expectation – blank page white
• Hope – blank page white
• Pressure – blank page white
• Promise – blank page white

Mugged by Stephen Baily

Click for podcast (first story)

Read by Miranda Harrison

—You’ve left your shoes in the car.

His surprise at the sight of her bare feet amused her.

—Surely you weren’t expecting me to walk in the woods in heels?

—But you could step on something—broken glass or God knows what.

She laughed at his absurd mistrust of the outdoors and slipped away onto the trail. In his three-piece suit and clumsy oxfords, he plodded along after her, on the watch for half-concealed roots that might send him sprawling.

Twenty-Four Tiny Tales by Andreas Paraskevaides

Click for podcast (last story but one)

Read by Claire Lacey & Will Goodhand

Before you next let road rage take over, consider: objects in the rear-view mirror may have more teeth than they seem.

She held on to the fragment of glass as he lay beside her, wordlessly willing him to keep from stirring this time.

The source of the nursing home's troubles had less to do with faulty wiring and more to do with mandibles.

Time to enlist the pelican king's help in recalibrating the colour of sadness.

Follow the sole surviving yellow flamingo as it’s ruthlessly pursued by mechanical assassins hell-bent on exploiting the fearsome magnificence of its beautiful beak.

Animated monuments drag a coastal city to the depths.

The Last Real Thing by MFC Feeley

Click for podcast (second story)

Read by James Price

The Last Real Thing or Why My Family Left for America

Aedan and Bartley ate their fill; I’d been shorted for laziness. As further punishment, Mother sent me to gather peat alone.

There I spied the soldiers. Preferring dreams to drudgery, I decided to join them.

I’d be a cook’s apprentice with the job of tasting and eating. They’d raise me to fight. I’d come back a leader. I’d conquer Ireland, but once my mother recognized me and apologized for withholding the fish, I’d have my army free everyone. Then we would conquer England!

In dreaming this, I’d come near their camp and, as the speech you’ve practiced flees once you catch the pretty girl’s eye, I lost my resolve. I couldn’t address the soldiers; I didn’t even know their language.

Losers by Nicolas Ridley

Click for podcast (last story)

Read by Will Goodhand

I open my eyes. Spears of afternoon sunlight stream through the window. Crumpled sheets. Puckered pillows. Yes, I think. I remember where I am.

—Seven letters, says Arianna. First letter ‘c’. Third letter ‘c’. Fourth letter ‘k’.

I prop myself up on one elbow. —‘Cock’ something, I say. ‘Cockeye’? ‘Cockpit’?

She shakes her head.

—‘Cocksure’?

—Seven letters.

—Oh, yes.

—Seventh letter ‘d’.

She’s sitting at her dressing-table, wrapped in a cream bath towel, the newspaper folded on her knee, chewing her pencil. This is Arianna. She is not a cosy lover. She has no patience with post-coital clinging.

Mandatory Meeting for Museum Guards ... by Rachel Karyo

Click for podcast (6th story)

Read by Keleigh Wolf

Mandatory Meeting for Museum Guards Before The VIP & Members' Exhibition Opening Reception

The gallery will be dark, and it may be difficult to see. It is imperative that you keep the floor dry. A few visitors will ask about these paintings hanging on the walls. Beautiful, aren’t they? Both visually and thematically complex. Gaze at them too long, you’ll lose your mind. For your own safety, don’t stare at the artworks, but let the visitors look wherever they please. We’re guards, not Surgeons General, and the last thing this institution needs is additional litigation.

Blowtorch, eyes on me.

Any questions?

Birthday Event: Tuesday 10th April - Small & Beautiful Flash Fiction

From action heroes to Irish farmers, murderers to museum guards, via cuckolds, crosswords, paint colours, relationship accelerants and a man who starts growing balloons all over his body, we read ten wild, weird and wonderful flash fiction stories at our birthday special* on Tuesday 10th April (click for Facebook event link). 

Here's the YouTube playlist of all the stories from the night - enjoy! 

Small & Beautiful Videos

Podcast & story texts will be coming soon - please keep checking back for updates!

 

WINNING STORIES for SMALL & BEAUTIFUL

 

Action by William Conway & Chiaroscuro by Richard A. Shury NEW AUTHORS, read by Rich Keeble
Lighter than Air by Anton Rose & Mugged by Stephen Baily NEW AUTHOR, read by Miranda Harrison
Losers by Nicolas Ridley NEW AUTHOR read by Will Goodhand
Wine Frame of Mind by Joseph Francis & The Last Real Thing by MFC Feeley NEW AUTHORS read by James Price
24 Tiny Tales by Andreas Paraskevaides, read by Claire Lacey & Will Goodhand
Decluttering by Sue Smith, read by Claire Lacey
Mandatory Meeting for Museum Guards Before The VIP + Members' Exhibition Opening Reception by Rachel Karyo NEW AUTHOR, read by Keleigh Wolf

 

As always, doors open at 7pm and the show begins at 7.30. Drinks and food will be available at the bar, and the infamous interval quiz features fabulous free books to be won! There's no pre-booking, but tables for four or more can be reserved by calling 07808 939535.

The venue is the downstairs bar at:

The Phoenix pub
37 Cavendish Square 
London 
W1G 0PP

(The Phoenix is 5 minutes' walk from Oxford Circus tube station, which is on the Victoria, Bakerloo and Central lines. Map here)

*we're 11 this year, since you ask ...