Trigger Mechanism

A pointless film I made to accompany some sounds I also made.  Listen closely and you might see why it's appropriate for Ghost Transmissions.  Happy Halloween, Beasts.

Obscure PIF 1971

Remember folks, the Cornelius family won't be there when you vibrate random strangers to death.

Two More Days To Halloweeeeeeeeen

Good evening, Beasts.  Trust you enjoyed your vacation?  I myself enjoyed a short cruise calling at the Gasworks, the Smoking Mountain and the House of Eyes.  Wonderful.  The mental scars look amazing.  Now that I am relaxed and have a new smoking jacket (unfact) and a roll neck jumper (truefact), let us continue our journey, all the way to the heart of October Country. 

We need to celebrate Halloween and celebrate it properly.  There's a whole horror rennaisance ongoing over the last ten years or so; the problem is that most of it is spectacularly duuuullllllll.  Killer children.  Killer hoodies.  Killer Youth Hosteling.  Saw is just Doctor Phibes with less art deco.  Sadly, I have to spout a grumpy old bugger cliche; it's about the disgust rather than the fear.  Now I'm not Halliwell and I love a bit of wild disgust; Deathline and The Devil's Rejects are over thirty years apart, but they both combine gross-out sadism with genuine creepiness, a hint of the demented dark behind the curtain.  Doesn't hurt that Rejects is set in the 1970s either, I suppose...

My rambling and long-lost point is that we need to grab a Halloween that's a real spookshow for once.  It's hidden, but it runs through television history like a seam of killer gold.  Killer Gold!  My god, I'm copywriting that here and now, please take note.  Anyway, I don't mean the deliberate, established fantasy/horror classics.  There are plenty of Twilight Zone explorations out there, lots on the Outer Limits and sadly, not that much on Night Gallery, even though it was the best of all of them, but we are not concerning ourselves with these tonight. 

My grand guignol of choice then?  My childhood favourites, that's what.  Back in the day, you'd get to this time of year and a subtle change would take place; kids shows and sitcoms would suddenly do an unexpected ghost-story episode.  And oddly, they all seemed to follow a set script pattern:

But if that's you, then who...

We all have to deal with people we don't like.  Maybe it's your boss or one of your work colleagues, a relative that comes to stay too much, a nosey neighbour, or perhaps just an annoying secondary personality commanding you to kill through your radio.  But we deal with them, ignoring and smiling fixedly.  Unless, of course, you're a sit-com character living between 1970 and 1984.  If that's so, under British law, you have the unalienable right to persecute your opponent ( generally a new arrival in the area) using a terrible costume and an obscure local superstition.  Um, no, this is sounding wrong (it sounded wronger before my last edit, trust me). 

So, what you do is this.  You spread rumours about a headless horseman or whatever.  Then you get one of your comedy mates to put the costume on and run round at night shouting "woooooooooooooooo" whilst you and the rest of your friends watch from behind a hedge until your victim screams and runs away, usually on speeded up video tape. 

CAVEAT: whilst this will enable you to dispose of problem neighbours legally you are required to turn to the ghost and say something to the effect of "well done Frank!" or whoever.  At this point, Frank runs up behind and apologises for being late.  Everyone turns back to the ghost who goes WOOOOOOOOOOOO again, albeit in the manner of being played by a different actor.  At which point, all other cast members must run away on speeded up video.  However, your original enemy will never be seen again, which seems a bit sinister, now I come to think of it.

Notable Example: Metal Mickey: Mickey Meets Mumsie.  It's a Headless Horseman in that one, as well.  I remember my sister really laughing at one of the jokes in this one: "He died when he attacked the coach" - "Why?  Did he get his head caught in the sliding doors?"

Check the eyes out.  Now you know exactly who was looking in the window in The Amytiville Horror.  Presumably George Lutz was an unpopular substitute teacher.

We'll Just Have To Stay The Night

Tends to be the staple of heavily studio bound sit-coms, usually the ones that never move an inch from the front room set.  Once every three or four years they get an outing.  Often, this gets used for the deadly dull Spanish holiday edition, but once in a while we get lucky and they do the scary haunted house one instead. 

So, our cast are on their way somewhere and the car/bus/train breaks down.  So they have to spend the stormy night in an abandoned mansion, or derelict railway station or whatever.  This leads to amusing sub-Morecambe and Wise two-blokes-in-a-bed situations.  Basically, the whole plot of The Old Dark House condensed into 28 minutes.  Sometimes the ghost is real, sometimes it's a misunderstanding with. Hilarious.  Consequences.

Notable Example: It's a considerable understatement to say that I'm not a big fan of Only Fools And Horses.  But the time they recreated the Bob Hope masterpiece The Cat And The Canary is one of the very few episodes that stands a re-watch.  Features a serial killer, rather than yer actual ghost, though.




Oddly, I prefer this cast to the one featuring Nicholas Lindhurst.


Dark In Here, Innit?

This one is easy to summarise.  You can do it yourself.  Here are the pieces you'll need:

"Oh, no love, there's nothing to worry about in this old house.  I've been here for years, never had a problem."

"I'm fine!  There was this lovely old man/woman who helped me out."

"But...no-one's lived there since old Mr MacCliche died in 1940!"


OH NO!  HE WAS A GHOST ALL ALONG!

Later ruined by The Sixth Sense, which didn't even have any swannee whistle on the soundtrack.  I'm waiting for a sequel in the style of Rentaghost.

Obligatory Rentaghost picture of the week:  I see loads of dead people and employ them with hilarious etc etc etc

Notable Example:  Foxy Lady, a completely forgotten YTV sitcom from the 80s.  The entire episode can be summed up the above lines of dialogue.

Heh Heh Heh





Final miscellany?  Well, I like that episode of Two Pints where they all get killed, for what should be fairly obvious reasons.  Then there's the (rarer) Halloween episodes of regular series like Quantum Leap; in that case, it seemed that the devil himself had taken control of the story.  I only really enjoyed that show when it went weirder, so essentially that's this one and the final episode only. 

And last, and most enjoyably at all, Vincent Price on The Muppet Show.  Gad, YES!

Happy Halloween, Long Leggetty Beasties.

Never To Be Repeated: Tarot Phenomena

Picture it!  The early 70s, again.  The BBC holds sway with its behemothic Doctor Who.  They've got Pertwee in the TARDIS and all is well with their world.  Not so for the poor ITV network.  Think!  sez the ITV network to itself.  We needs a bit of this.  With our own Pertwee, we could command respect.  People would give us money.  We could afford Susan Stranks. 

Susan Stranks.  It sounds funny.

Stranks.  Thanks.

Desperate for Pertwee of their very own, they cast around the place.  Thames Television, down in their bunker at Teddington Lock (world's meanest carpark attendant, apparently) think they have a plan.  Get us a Pertwee, but younger, they command.   And lo!  They found Michael Mackenzie, to play the hero, Tarot.  Fetch us a dolly bird and a bit of rough, they said, for their second wish.  With a flash and a puff of smoke, there was Judy Loe and Tony Selby, twenty odd years before Sabalom Glitz.

From left to right: Status Quo, Laura Ashley, Tony Hart

"And for your third wish?" asked the genie that I've just made up.

"We wish for all the wishes we want, whenever we want them!" chorused Thames Television.

"Highly unwise," said the genie, "as this will result in the career of Jim Davidson during the 1980s. Well, there's no other fucking explanation.   Try again."

"We want the London Weekend Television Ident to repeat endlessly!" shouted Thames Television.

"It's on TV Ark in the future and they won't let me link to it directly," replied the genie, looking at his watch.  "Can't you do a bit better than this?  I'm due on Jackanory Playhouse in half an hour."

"OK!" said Thames Televison, "Can we have a children's version of The Avengers?"

"If you must," said the genie, "but mark my words, you'll wind up making it on tape and it will look awful."

"Doesn't matter!" laughed Thames Television, lighting a cigar, "because we're going to erase the bloody lot about ten minutes after it's all broadcast!"

"Well that's fairly annoying of you," said the genie, because he was an even tempered soul who figured that erasing old TV probably wasn't a war crime or anything, whatever Ian Levene thinks.  "Mind you, I'd keep the third series."

You're expecting a smart mouth remark, but if that yellow suit was in a different colour, I'd totally dress like that.

Thames Television was intrigued.  It leaned forward over the edge of the wall (from behind which Roy Skelton was operating it and doing the voice).

"Why the third series?" it asked, nervously.

"Easy," said the genie, whose verbs were being supplied by Hemingway, "the third series is the one with a different bird and the bit of rough who looks like Robin Askwith.  It will lead to endless confusion.  People will mix it up with the Confessions films.  Also, Petra Markham will baffle people.  The viewers will spend years trying to work out if she's fit or not."*

It looks like a bloody Carry On poster.  Tarot is the only one taking it seriously.

Thames Television was very impressed.

"O wise genie," it said, what may we do for you, in return for your many magical gifts and advice?"

"Easy," said the genie.  "Spend the money on Jenny Hanley instead of Susan Stranks and there won't be no trouble."

And with that, he was gone to meet with Brian Cant and Derek Griffiths, because any right thinking person would, given the chance.  But the foolish Thames Television left it until 1974 to hire Hanley and the genie asked PJ Hammond to completely destroy Ace Of Wands (for such was the name of the new show) by ending it with a massive explosion that appeared to kill all the characters off. 

All future TV producers were supposed to learn from this and never end a series on a cliffhanger without a new contract already signed.  But they didn't.  Just ask The Tripods. 

And Ace Of Wands, well, what was left of it after the Thames tape wiping department had finished, rode off into the sunset, with massive flouncy sleeves and a footballer's haircut.  As a legacy, it left behind the unique spectacle of Brian Wilde playing an absolutely terrifying villain and one of the world's best theme tunes.  Go on, you deserve it.  A treat before bedtime.






*The answer, beasts, is yes, she is.  Shallow fools.

Dramerrrrr-raaaaaaama

Ah, tea-time.  So many of our meetings have involved tea-time.  Around five o'clock, in my neck of the woods.  Usually on my knee in front of some fine piece of programming.   But now it is late at night and, as I have just written and deleted a huge piece on the grounds of good taste, (one day, I'll publish it, but not right now) my usual preamble must be a little briefer than I am used to.  This is a new regular thrill, beasts; a little trip into the hearts and minds of the after-school crowd c.1984.  Enter, if you can stand it, the world of Dramarama.

Well, that died on its arse, didn't it?  I mean, the title just kills it.  Hey! Guys!  Great idea for a new show to get the kids into discussing serious heavyweight issues!  Let's name it after the lesson at school that involves most twatting about!  Blinder of a plan, mate.  Next week, PE Mysteries starring Mr Baxter. 

Actually, fuck that.  I'd watch PE Mysteries if Baxter was in it.  No offense, Drama teachers, by the way.  I know your pain.

Clearly, ITV realised that they might have just killed the new anthology show dead, so they took to adding the word 'Spooky' in swirly green Chromakey.  They needn't have bothered.  The weird chanting Dramarama theme, followed by a badly animated curtain was all the freakout we needed.  Why is bad animation so scary?  If you ask me, it always gives the impression that a serial killer knocked it up in his shed, that's why.

Cosgrove-Hall-Manson productions.  Joke edited for taste, again.

So we get little one off plays.  Twenty odd minutes each.  As you and I know that's just enough time to mess with anyone's head in TV Land.  So, obviously, they go with family friendly tea-time viewing for episode one.    Dolls that come to life.  Naturally.

We open on a little Edwardian lad, sitting with his old Granny.  Poor bugger, first of all he gets his gran to tell him a bedtime story.  Being a pleasant old sort, she goes with the 'in a dark, dark house' routine, which goes down a freakin' storm, since she lives in a dark, dark house.  Then, by the time he's practically shat himself, it's off to bed on his own.  You know, in a dark, dark room and everything.  Well bugger me, if there isn't a dark, dark box in the corner.  By this point, you're expecting him to look resignedly to camera, like Wile E Coyote before he falls off a cliff, but it seems our hero has never a spooky film and doesn't know what's coming next.

Feeling scared, sonny?  Never mind, here's this tasteful and not at all sentient sailor doll to go on your shelf.  Hope it doesn't move by itself or anything.  Likewise, hope it doesn't remind you that your dad was a sailor who drowned.  Jesus, what is it with Granny?  Does she have his sanity insured or something? 

But it's all going to be OK!   It's just his dead father's ghost, moving the doll, that's all.  Well thank fuck for that.   Deceased relatives should always communicate through terrifying inanimate objects, it really speeds the grieving process along.  That, and a three minute blast of psychedelic hallucinations that make me wonder what exactly Granny was putting in the Ovaltine. 

How many of you fellow Britorians recall these little nightmares?  The sailor doll nearly caused the ten year old Ghost Transmissions to pass out in terror, but what else do you remember?  Here's a clue for next time...try writing your name on the blackboard.  Then...rub it out.  No!  Not your name!  HER name!