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Lies My Mother Never Told Me by A.F.Harrold

by A.F. Harrold


A.F. Harrold's comic genius is very much to the fore in this collection of poetry. Mr Harrold (or A.F. To his friends) utilises his considerable poetic dexterity to beguile, charm, dazzle and amuse as he introduces the reader to thirteen ways to be related to The Beatles, Uncle Billy, The dedicated Nudist and many other of his rather odd relatives. Mr Harrold details his extensive collection of literary memorabilia, muses on life, love and the absurdity of cardboard boxes, and warns of the dangers of precariously balanced pianos. Be warned this book will cause serial outbreaks of mirth, but do not underestimate the calibre of the poetic talent that rather cleverly delivers that laughter.

A.F. Harrold is an English poet (1975 - present). He writes and performs for adults and children, in cabaret and in schools, in bars and in basements, in fields and indoors. He was Glastonbury Festival Website's Poet-In-Residence in 2008, and Poet-In-Residence at Cheltenham Literature Festival in 2010. He won the Cheltenham All Stars Slam Championship in 2007 and has had his work on BBC Radio 4, Radio 3 and BBC7. He is active in schools work, running workshops and slams and doing performances at ungodly hours of the morning, and has published several collections of poetry. He is the owner of many books, a handful of hats, a few good ideas and one beard. He is the author of the Bloomsbury published Fizzlebert Stump books for children and most recently The Imaginary.

“There is a poem for every occasion here, so if you’re planning
on speaking at a wedding or teaching an English class or
sending a birthday or valentine card or in existing in the
world as a human in anyway whatsoever, then why not make
your life a lot easier and just buy this book already.”
Byron Vincent

“Reads like being invited over for tea on a rainy Tuesday
afternoon, then having your host serve good conversation,
fine wit, a tall tale and a selection of rather unusual cakes.”
Professor Elemental

“I read one of A.F. Harrold’s poems to my two year old son
and it disturbed him greatly.”
Daniel Cockrill