When I was but a doubtless annoying child, believing in the existence of supernatural goings on was flippin’ marvellous. I couldn’t get enough of reading about ghosties, aliens, Loch Ness monsters and all that caper. And any shrivelled up talking-bonce on the telebox who appeared to be pissing their logic on my bonfire was just a plain baddie. But alas, I grew up, my brain caught up with reality and now I’m a right cynical bastard. So when I see programmes like ‘Interview with a Poltergeist’ on channel 4, I can empathise, to an extent, with the whimsical fancies of these want-to-believers, but a larger part of me wants to hundred-hand-slap some sense into them with extreme prejudice.
I mean, come on! Most of the content of this programme is based simply on hearsay and Chinese whispers, etc, etc, and surprise, surprise, there was no actual sodding tangible sodding evidence by the sodding end of it to sodding well support this massive crock of sodding pigshit.
The peak of the excitement seemed to culminate in a grown man whining that he was struck on the eyebrow by a bit of Lego. Ooh the pain.
Even if this did happen, you can bet it occurred in near darkness, nobody spotting the small brat-child cowering under the table, pelting said Lego, to extreme delight.
Some old codger ended up misplacing his tape recorder, then finding it, then bumping into a cardboard box, thus reaching the only logical conclusion that his one track mind could muster; it was the devilish work of the spirit world. Duh, obviously!
The last half hour of this embarrassingly puerile ejaculation of shit focused on the odd behaviour of the family child, an eleven year old girl, who knocked out a few spooky drawings and began bashing her head against a wall, followed by energetic bouts of rage where she leapt about rooms like a tragic mess making weird noises.
The really sorrowful thing about this is the way the rest of the family rallied round, along with the Press, inviting the world and his wife to view this sideshow freak supposedly being tampered with by a naughty ghost, while her demented cry for help was interpreted as more spooky goings on. Meanwhile, it was plainly obvious to me that this poor child was clearly messed up beyond all recognition due to the climate of Poltergeist fever created by the adults of the household. Hey, that’s child abuse! Anyway, what’s the point? It all happened decades ago.
The golden quote came from the now grown up freak child, who has masterfully bloomed into a class A dull bitch: “Call me what you like. Call me a prank”.