Liars' League

Are we nearly there yet? by Emily Pedder

Are We Nearly There Yet MP3

Read by Danielle Fenemore

Before Christmas Mum took me up West. We went to Selfridges to try on the expensive perfumes, see if there were any freebies going. She walked around from counter to counter; I followed along behind.

“What do you think of that, Rae?” she asked, after she’d dabbed a bit on her wrist. I gave her my rating on a scale of one to ten, glad to be asked to help. We stopped by the Poison counter. Mum gasped. “I love this stuff!” she squealed, running her hand down the purple curved glass.

She didn’t buy any though. She said she’d told Mick she liked it and she hoped he’d buy her some. But she hung around the counter for ages, chatting to the assistants. They smiled and looked at me as if I was a cute animal. Mum patted my head, like she did when there were people to see her do it. After a while she said she had to go and do something and I was to wait for her by the Clarins counter. She said she’d only be a minute. I asked if I could go with her but she shook her head. “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”  

The Bad Boy by Emily Cleaver

Read by Patsy Prince

At 32 years old, Paul was proud to possess the following: 263 friends on Facebook; the kind of ginger hair that made women describe him as "cheeky"; a city job with a six figure bonus; a city flat with a roof terrace; an espresso machine he'd actually used once; a juicer he intended to use as soon as he remembered to buy some fruit; a fiancée who worked in an art gallery and wore Gucci; a mistress who was into bondage and didn't mind about the fiancée. His life was, in his opinion, pukka.

Sour Notes by Todd Wheeler

Read by Steve Wedd

The group of singers needed practice.  Charles always went flat.  Edward forgot the words.  And then there was Basil.  Poor Basil.

All six of them stopped at the corner, shuffling and rubbing their arms to keep warm.  The grey sky above London threatened snow.  David set up the sandwich board which read 'Acapella Joy!' in red and green letters.  They lined up on the curb: Chris, Gustav, and Edward in the back, being taller (though no less ugly) than Charles and Basil.  David stood before them and counted out the rhythm, his hands waving in the air.

Snow Business by Richard Meredith

 

Read by Suzanne Goldberg

Season of goodwill? Don't get me started. Ho ho ho, as Santa might say.

I always suspected all that "naughty and nice" stuff was a racket. Aged eleven, I found out I was right. And trust me, the snow business is the dirtiest game in town.

It kicked off last Christmas Eve, when I woke to find my Dad sprawled on my bedroom floor, swearing. He'd tripped over my stocking, which I'd rigged with fishing-wire to make a Santa-trap. It was quite humane, but it was the last straw for him. He marched me downstairs and sat me at the kitchen table.

Pete Doherty's Christmas Carol by Quintin Forrest

Read by Max Berendt

About my relationship with Norwich, prior to the events of the evening in question, I will say very little, because I didn't really have one.