Cringe! Again!

The UK edition of the Cringe book, that compendium of embarrassing teenage memories, has had its submission deadline extended. Hooray! You have until April 15, now, to rifle through your old school rough-books, secret diaries and photo albums and secure your place in Sarah Brown's hilarious piece of publishing. To submit, scan in your work and upload it at the online submissions webpage. It's easier than trowelling Cover-up onto your spots while sitting on a moving bus.

Meanwhile, on April 1st, next Wednesday, there will be two Cringe reading-nights: one in New York and one in London. Synchronicity! There will be a portal between the two that you will be able to see if you drink eight Southern Comfort & Cokes and sniff Tippex while no teachers are looking.

Sarah will be hosting the New York night at Freddy’s Bar and Backroom, 485 Dean Street, and I have the frankly fucking amazing honour of hosting the London Cringe. I would love to see you down there: there are still two slots open for readers, so if you have some meaningful poetry or misunderstood journals, let me know, or bring them along to see how brave you feel on the night. Otherwise, just come to listen. Oh! Also, if you have any bad 80s records, bring those too, as we'll be cracking open the decks afterwards and having a par-tay. Wear your pixie boots!

London Cringe is at 7 for 7.30pm, at Bardens Boudoir, in Dalston. Bardens is Time Out's favourite bar and fingers crossed, they'll be coming along to cover it and drum up some publicity for the book.

Bardens is near Dalston Kingsland Overground, which is a quick change from the Victoria Line at Highbury & Islington. Also, buses 67, 76, 149 and 243 stop outside Bardens. Buses 149, 243 and 76 run all night.

Here maps here:

It is an underground venue that runs underneath about three or four shops, and you can only really see the enormous pink words BARDENS BOUDOIR, painted high above the shop signs, if you step back ten feet and get knocked down by a passing bus. Don't do that. The entrance looks like this (the door will be open, to a flight of downward-leading stairs):

If you're like me, you'll want to know what it looks like inside before you commit to leaving the house. It looks like this:

I really liked Bardens. It has a nice vibe. I don't like pretentious, over-arty venues, and I don't like wanky, over-smart wine bars. I like honest old-school pubs. I like music you can have a conversation over, and I like slightly tatty upholstery and wallpaper and people who smile. Bardens was great: I felt welcome and relaxed and comfortable and happy there, and if it has that effect on me then you will certainly like it too. Bardens has an almost den-like feel, thanks to the red walls, the low ceilings and the little nooks you can sit in. The readings happen on a little stage about a foot high, here:

On the left you see Sarah drinking heavily to cope with my teenage poetry.

Also, there are nice squashy sofas to sink into, here:

Come along! Get drunk on Baileys and dance to the Bangles. Then break up with yourself, go on the rebound, give yourself a clumsy knee-trembler in the car park, and get the night bus home, your Rimmel eyeliner all smudged, and write a song about it that no one understands. Ten years from now, you'll look back on all this and laugh.

Wednesday, Bardens, 7pm. Hope to see you there!