Questions, questions, questions

Bloody hell, last night was the inaugural Bad Language Literature Quiz at the inimitable Waldorf and our team, The Arndale Twin Toilet Cubicle Confusion (yeah, ask Ben of Ask Ben & Clare), just missed the top spot by one point. No thanks to me - I'm just the lucky mascot, not the brains behind the outfit. The brains were Ben, Ian, Dave and Helen.

Not one to be discouraged by being crap at quizzes, however, I purposefully strode over to interrupt one third of the BL massive and query (for your benefit, dear literary quiz-enjoying readers) whether a second outing might be in the offing, the first one having gone so swimmingly. Joe was certainly up for the idea, so, if another function is organised, rest assured W&F will let you know.

By way of getting us warmed up, poet Max Wallis read some of his work (including a liberal hundreds-and-thousands sprinkling of "fucks"), while short story writer David Gaffney took to the floor during the all-important marking stage, treating us to some of his immense flash fiction, plus a couple of his Destroy PowerPoint presentations. We all got giddy and overexcited, possibly from eating some extremely pink cupcakes, maybe from nearly scooping the glittering first prize, but mainly at handing over five whole pounds (note to self: owe Ben a fiver) and getting our books signed. Sawn-Off Tales for me; Never Never and Aroma Bingo for the boys.


Cheekily, I asked Mr Gaffney if he wouldn't mind submitting a question to Ask Ben & Clare; he said I ought to put forward a contribution to his project The Poole Confessions. Briefly: "Over the summer short story writer David Gaffney will collect the anonymous confessions of the people of Poole and turn them into micro-short stories. He will read these short stories in special intimate one-to-one performances in a custom built mobile confessional box at Poole Literary Festival." I already have two confessions in mind. It's anonymous; I can't tell you what they are. You'll just have to guess.