Welcome to Liars' League! Have a browse, check out our story and video archive, and why not come along to our next event? (Details below or here: https://www.liarsleague.com/liars_league/forthcoming-events-themes.html)
PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS EVENT TAKES PLACE UPSTAIRS AT THE WHEATSHEAF, FITZROVIA, NOT OUR USUAL VENUE OF THE PHOENIX
From glowing hearths to snowy bloodbaths, we've a stocking stuffed full of festive fiction for you to enjoy at our final event of the year, HEARTH & HOME, upstairs at the historic Wheatsheaf pub (25 Rathbone Place, just off Tottenham Court Road) at 7.30pm (doors at 6.30) on Tuesday 12th December.
Our six specially-written short stories will whisk you to war-torn Berlin, sinister mansion Chance House, and the worst pub in Ireland, and you can meet Welsh witches, secret base-jumpers and an alcoholic reindeer. PLUS there will be our usual epic literary quiz with brilliant books to win, and free mince pies for all!
WINNING STORIES for HEARTH & HOME
"Aelwyd" by Lianne Warr *NEW AUTHOR* read by David Mildon
"Looking for Matti" by Grace Andreacchi *NEW AUTHOR*
"The Visit" by Marta Patiño *NEW AUTHOR*
"Red Nose" by Rhys Timson
"Tripping the Light Fantastic" by Matt Barnard
"Donkey Tom" by David McGrath
Fancy coming along? The Wheatsheaf is smaller than our usual venue and tickets are STRICTLY LIMITED to 40 so if you want to come, please please do book your budget-friendly £5 tickets ASAP.
Tuesday 12th December, 7.30pm, tickets £5 (doors open at 6.30pm)
Upstairs at The Wheatsheaf 25 Rathbone Place (off Tottenham Court Road)
London, W1T 1JB
Nearest tubes: Tottenham Court Road (3 min) then Goodge Street (4 min) then Oxford Circus (6 min)
N.B. We DO now accept card payments on the door, but it's well worth booking a ticket in advance to ensure you get a table - just click here. Any questions? See below.
Read by Sophie Cartman (final story in podcast, here- find it at 1:30:10)
Under an obsidian sky with no stars, Kiyane crouches by the chicken coop in the yard behind mistress house. She doesn’t know what to do. Going back inside might mean she would dead. Hiding in the yard might see her get catch and could dead, too. She covers her ears, but that does no good. She can still hear every dying scream of her kin, the other folks trapped inside the house, before they fall away, leaving only the creeping silence of their killer.
When duppy come, you should run ‘way When duppy come, them nah speak but them stay Duppy is mean, but duppy is few When duppy does come, who are you?
Read by Silas Hawkins (5th story in podcast, here)
I’m sorry I'm late, but skinning the cat took longer than I had expected. People always say that there is more than one way to skin a cat, but it's a lie. There is only one way to skin a cat: a progressive lifting and separating motion, like peeling a ripe avocado with a spoon.
I honestly should have known better. It's not the first time I've done it. I spent my whole Anatomy course stooped over a formaldehyde-soaked cat carcass wrapped up in a garbage bag for safe keeping. I still remember my astonishment looking down into the body when I remembered that this moist bunch of deflated balloons was once coughing up hairballs. I also remember that if you pulled on a tendon with the surgical equivalent of a crochet hook you could make the paw twitch. Memories.
Read by Clareine Cronin (fifth story in podcast, here, at 55:15)
The King always has blood beneath his fingernails. It is all I think about as he touches me, clumsily, with bloated hands that struggle to obey his desires. Rusty flakes crumble onto my skin, the dried blood of hunted deer and boar though they may as well belong to one of my predecessors. Henry sees his wives as dispensable, to serve his purpose and nothing more. The ghosts of his beheaded wives surround the bed, chanting a word that drowns out his grunts of carnal desire.
No peeking; not even a tiny bit. Block out the light. Don’t let in enough to see red at the edges.
That’s your flesh, you know. That’s your blood. The dark bit in the middle? That’s your bones.
I’ll be around the trees somewhere. You need to know, not just where to look, but how to look. This deep in the forest, light plays tricks. I could be standing right in front of you. You wouldn’t know. I’m hard to see, and I’m even harder to catch. No-one’s caught me yet. Would you like to know how?
Read by Thomas Delacourt (third story in podcast, here)
There once was a ship that put to sea The name of the ship was the Billy o' Tea The winds blew up, her bow dipped down Oh blow, my bully boys, blow
Soon may the Wellerman come To bring us sugar and tea and rum One day, when the tonguing is done We'll take our leave and go
Marooned a hundred feet up in the swaying crowsnest, scanning the dark ocean for moongleam off a vast slick back, Jonas’s eyes burn and blur.
For nineteen years, his whole Midwest youth, he dreamed of the sea, but the last fruitless weeks have dulled the thrill of seeing a spout – or better yet, the shining arc and foam-plash of a breaching whale. Not one he’s sighted so far has been caught: instead, the behemoths taunt the crew of the Galatea from the horizon; tons of precious oil and baleen, cathedrals of whalemeat. Jonas blinks away sleep-mist and wonders does the ocean conjure mirages like the desert? Are those far-off shapes only grey-black sea-ghosts, waterborne will-o-the-wisps, luring desperate whalers to their doom?
Read by Lucy Mabbitt (first story in podcast: click here)
Esme’s heart beats so quickly that even super fast songs, 160 beats per minute, sound as though they’re in slow motion.
My pulse could outrun anything, she thinks to herself as she lies awake each night, her bedsheets palpitating in time with the blood pumping fast through her veins.
The thought that her pulse could outrun anything is something of a comfort to Esme when she reads news headlines, daily, about women being raped, murdered, deleted from her city. And yet she still cannot will herself to close both eyes.
PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS EVENT IS NOW AT THE ALBANY, GREAT PORTLAND STREET, NOT OUR USUAL VENUE OF THE PHOENIX
As the season of spectres & sepulchres lurches ever-closer, chains rattling, we're chilled to announce the winning stories for our Doom & Gloom pre-Halloween special on Tuesday 10th October! Deep in the shadow-draped basement bar of The Albany, Great Portland Street lurk Caribbean monsters, ghostly queens, sinister stews, murderous whales, headless women & a deadly game of hide-and-seek - & for just £5, you can join them ... if you dare!
WINNING STORIES for DM & GLM
"Be Lucky, Girls" by Hannah Downes, read by Lucy Mabbitt
"When Duppy does come, who are you?" by Clarissa Angus, read by Sophie Cartman
"Skinning the Cat" by Lanay Griessner, read by Silas Hawkins
"Come Find Me" by Pat Black, read by Lisa Rose
"The Whale, in Six Parts" by Maria Kyle, read by Thomas Delacourt
"By the Flower, not the Axe" by Leila Murton Poole, read by Clareine Cronin
Fancy coming along on Tuesday 10th October? Book your budget-friendly £5 tickets ASAP if you want the best seats - PLUS there will be our usual epic literary quiz with brilliant weird & horror fiction to win, and free Halloween candy for all!
Tuesday 10th October, 7.30pm, tickets £5 (doors open at 6.30pm)
Nearest tubes: Great Portland Street (1 min) then Regent Street (2 min) then Warren Street (5 min)
N.B. We DO now accept card payments on the door, but it's well worth booking a ticket in advance to ensure you get a table - just click here. Any questions? See below.
I let my head fall against the chair's faded leather upholstery. "Today would be the second anniversary of our first date. A year ago, you argued that I mis-remembered. My name came out of your mouth every fifth word like 'Molly' was suddenly a vulgar swear."
I listen to the ventilator for a moment and scoff. "You know, Hannah … I remembered all of our anniversaries. I remember that it took you six full months to agree that we were official. Another three to meet your parents."
Silence greets me -- as usual. "You'd never admit it, but I always suspected I'm your first girlfriend."
A frog jumps into my throat, and for a minute, it's hard to speak.
"Do you remember how long the two of us sat in that corner booth? Our drinks ran dry, and that dinky light bulb blew out. It took forty minutes for our waitress to notice."
Guilt is a hunter. Love is a warrior. Sorrow is a stranger. Solitude is a face glimpsed in a crowd and then gone forever. Knowledge is a ray of light in the darkness. Confusion is a twat.
I stand at the edge of the sea. I feel sad. At the edge of the sea, where the water meets the land, where the land meets the water, I stand, and experience the emotion of sadness. I listen to the gentle roar and rush of the sea, the quiet but persistent rush and roar that is the sea’s roaring rush, its rushing roar. Now I know sadness and now I know the sea. The sea, the sound, the sadness, the pebbles on the beach. How many pebbles? Impossible to count them, but I know – I know – it must be more than twelve.
Sandra found out she was pregnant early on, when “your baby is approximately the size of a blueberry”. She’d never bothered with books when she was expecting the girls, it had all just happened. But it was different this time round. By the time the baby was size of a large plum, Barry had already fucked off, and she’d spent the weeks between grapefruit and watermelon entirely by herself.
Dave was on the scene by the time they stopped measuring babies by fruit.
What size was Ryan then? she wondered, as she sat in the darkness of the car park. Six months old. Christmas turkey for 20, maybe. Hefty.
‘There was a deafening roar as it charged out of the undergrowth, coming right at me, straight for my pale throat ...’
She’s told this same story to locals and tourists alike over the years – while Apple gurgled in a basket at her feet; while Apple toddled in between the chairs and legs of audience members who pinched her cheeks; while Apple played hide and seek with her own shadow. Red tells it, now, beside the inn’s glowing fireplace, while Apple serves drinks behind the bar.
When Abbie summons me, she offers up her soul to destroy everything.
Laughing, I decline. “I’m a fallen angel,” I say, gesturing to my missing wings. “Exiled to Hell for greed. But one day, I’ll be freed and the world will be mine to play with.” I grin, showing teeth. “I need it undestroyed for that to happen.”
Abbie scowls. She’s young – maybe fifteen – and exudes loathing. “What makes you so sure you’ll be freed?”
I shrug, glancing around what seems to be her bedroom. It’s oddly bare. “Humans worked out how to summon us from Hell,” I say. “Eventually, one will work out how to free me entirely, in return for something they think they need.” I smirk. “In fact, I have some idea of how that ritual would work. You could –”
“Only if you’ll destroy everything,” she says quickly.
It's never an easy task, sorting the very best stories from the teetering tower of talent that is the Women & Girls submissions every year ... but we've picked our five winning stories, and they're below!
WINNING STORIES for WOMEN & GIRLS
"Absence Episodes" by Darinka Aleksic, read by Claire Lacey a guilty mother grapples with a terrible secret
"Imprisoned, We Dream of Flight" by Katie Lewis, read by Lin Sagovsky
a fallenangel is summoned by a nihilistic teen - will redemption or destruction be the result?
"While You Were Sleeping" by Alyson Tait, read by Lucy Mabbitt
visiting her comatose girlfriend in hospital, our narrator reveals her dark side ...
"The Wolf's Daughter" by Mina Ma, read by Carrie Cohen
a raw and radical Red Riding Hood reboot from mistress of the myth-twist, Mina Ma
"Saltwater"by Sally Wild, read by Patsy Prince
Philosophy for Dummies & sassy surrealism beside the seaside
Fancy coming along on Tuesday 8th August? Book your budget-friendly £5 tickets ASAP if you want the best seats - and don't forget that our venue, the Phoenix, Cavendish Square, W1 also does two-for-one burgers on Tuesday nights, which is nice - PLUS there will be our usual epic literary quiz with brilliant books by women to win, and free sweets for all!
Tuesday 8th August, 7.30pm, tickets £5 (doors open at 6.30pm)
The Phoenix basement bar 37 Cavendish Square, London, W1G 0PP
(nearest tube Oxford Circus)
N.B. We DO now accept card payments on the door, but it's well worth booking a ticket in advance to ensure you get a table - just click here. Any questions? See below.
Read by Anoushka Deshmukh (third story in podcast, here)
Tonight, again, Madam cannot sleep because of the rustling. Because Madam doesn’t sleep, I can’t sleep. She pulls me from my cot — a meagre straw thing pushed to the furthest corner of her bedroom — and wraps my fingers around the pinta broom. We keep the broom inside now.
Downstairs, she says.
Downstairs is the kitchen, which is where I slept before Madam got the way she is now.
A man is downstairs. A man has gotten into the kitchen because Madam left the downstairs window open, hoping that a breeze will flit its way in and soothe the overheating of ancient womanhood.
Read by Jeremiah O'Connor (third story in podcast, here)
It’s not perfect, but they’ve done it. It will be presented tomorrow by the team leader (nerdy Portuguese save-the-bees guy, remember him?). The invite has been sent out to all members of the club. See you there.
That’s what the email had said. Wilson had bum sweat, which meant he was excited. He hadn’t expected his money to deliver results so soon. Maybe ever, in truth. The door opened and in came Tiago. Small frame, kind face.
An image filled a giant screen. “Thank you for the honour of selecting me to present our project to you.” A subtle accent cradled his Queen’s English.
“Not at all Tiago. You were chosen as a consequence of your intellect and involvement in the project. Please, begin the presentation.”
There was a roaring fire. Bess, the innkeeper’s lovely wife, moved through the crowd pouring mugs of ale, one to each, except for Big Sam, who took two, and Little Nell, who also took two, one in each dainty hand.
Between them stood Will, a stout lad, who was leaving tomorrow to join the king’s service.
“To Will,” Big Sam boomed, and hoisted his mug.
“To Will!” Will wobbled on his feet, a victim of too many toasts in his honour.
Read by Clive Greenwood - final story in podcast, here.
“Well I'll be a ... The Granite Grappler. Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time.”
The Granite in question was very much as his name would suggest: greying, unyielding, cracked, eroded, like he'd been dug from the earth with the bluntest of shovels. He comprised more than four-hundred pounds of callused unshaven meat, every blubberous fold shot with rosacea, sagging from all the wrong places, and tallied with blade marks – and these were just the glowing characteristics.
“Never thought I'd see him in colour,” the manager muttered as The Grappler, arduously, continued his slog down the gym's creaking staircase. “Shit, I've seen sacks of coal emptied down a chute with more finesse.”
You must be my eleven o’clock. Step into my office. Hope you didn’t have any trouble finding us. Our dragon should have met you at the drawbridge, but perhaps he's on a smoke break.
People can sometimes get a bit lost in the Forest of Illusion, and I did argue with facilities management about the wisdom of siting the castle entrance next to the Maze of Despair, but in any case, it’s great that you’ve made it here on time, or made it here at all! Many don’t.
Please do take a seat. Just brush those bones onto the floor. Don't worry, those straps on the armrests aren't for you. We used to use that chair for torture, but now it's just for interviews.
On 13th June The Phoenix witnessed acts of heroism, villainy & both at once, as our fantastic actors read brand new short stories of shadow-haunting monsters, heroic henchmen, epicwrestling battles, Guyanese bandits and how to save the world (maybe) ... The podcast is playable (& downloadable) here: Heroes & Villains (June) or here (play only):Heroes & Villains Podcast (MP3) here's the YouTube playlist.
Fancy coming to our next show, Women & Girls on Tuesday 8th August? Book your budget-friendly £5 tickets ASAP if you want ringside seats - and don't forget that our venue, the Phoenix, Cavendish Square, W1also does two-for-one burgers on Tuesday nights, which is nice - PLUS there will be our usual epic book quiz with books to win, and free sweets for all!
WINNING STORIES FOR HEROES & VILLAINS
Four Barrels of Aleby David Klotzkin, read by Tony Bell
Henchmen Wanted by Rhys Timson, read by Lisa Rose
The Greater Good by Marc-Anthony Hurr, read by Jeremiah O'Connor
The Grappler by S. Tierney, read by Clive Greenwood
The Man Downstairs by Renesha Dhanraj, read by Anoushka Deshmukh
Tuesday 13th June, 7.30pm, £5 (doors open at 6.30pm) The Phoenix basement bar 37 Cavendish Square, London, W1G 0PP
(nearest tube Oxford Circus)
N.B. We DO now accept card payments on the door but it's well worth booking a ticket via Paypal in advance to ensure you get a table - just click here. Still got questions? See below.
Read by Sarah Feathers (final story in podcast, here)
We accept your demands.
There is a flurry of static and she can’t be entirely sure what she’s heard. She presses the button again: What?
We accept your demands.
You accept?
That’s what I said (says the voice). We accept.
Oh, she says. They accept. Wren turns to address those around her: the fifteen linking arms, the group secured to lampposts with cable ties, the Painted People, The Tattooed Man, the students glued to pavements, the elderly couple handcuffed to the railings.
Thanks to our faithful fans' nominations we were shortlisted (along with four other eminent & excellent events) in the Best Regular Spoken Word Night category at the Saboteur Awards 2020! We didn't win (though congrats to poetry night Punk in Drublic, who did) but we certainly basked in the glory ...
INTERVIEW ON THE STATE OF THE ARTS
In celebration of our one hundredth event, the fine folks over at thestateofthearts.co.uk interviewed us about the secret of Liars' League's longevity, here.
BEST REGULAR SPOKEN WORD NIGHT AT SABOTEUR AWARDS
We got nominated, we canvassed, we voted, we hoped, we prayed. Then we went down to Oxford - along with our publishing partners Arachne Press - for the Saboteur Awards and came away with a gong each! We won Best Regular Spoken Word Night 2014 and Weird Lies won Best Anthology.
LL IN GUARDIAN TOP TEN
Liars' League is one of The Guardian's 10 Great Storytelling Nights, according to the paper's go-out-and-have-fun Do Something supplement, that is. And they should know. The article is here and mentions several other live lit events well worth checking out.
ARTICLE ABOUT US IN WORDSWITHJAM
Journalist Catriona Troth came along to our Twist & Turn night, reviewed it and interviewed Katy, Liam, Cliff and author/actor Carrie. See what she said in her article for WordsWithJam here.
BUY OUR AUTHORS' BOOKS!
Longtime contributors Niall Boyce, Jonathan Pinnock & Richard Smyth all have books out which you'd be well advised to buy, then read, then buy for others. All genres are catered for, from novels (Niall's Veronica Britton) and short stories (Jonathan's Dot Dash) to nonfiction (Richard's Bumfodder)
KATY LIAR'S DEBUT NOVEL
Liar Katy Darby's debut novel, a Victorian drama called The Unpierced Heart (previously titled The Whores' Asylum) is now out in Penguin paperback. It's had nice reviews in The Independent on Sunday, Sunday Times & Metro (4*).
OUR INTERVIEW WITH ANNEXE MAG!
They came, they saw, they asked us a bunch of interesting questions. Interview by Nick of Annexe Magazine with Katy of LL: here
Flambard Press Publishers of Courttia Newland's short story collection "A Book of Blues", from which we read Gone Away Boy in April 2011.
Granta A great magazine full of new writing by established and up-and-coming authors.
Literary Death Match Watch blood spill and saliva fly, as writers fight for the LDM crown by reading their work and performing ridiculous tasks.
Sabotage Reviews An excellent review site which highlights the best of indie literature - poetry, prose and spoken word. They gave us an award, doncherknow?
ShortStops A fantastically useful site run by author Tania Hershman which lists opportunities for short story writers, from magazines to prizes to live events.