I have a Ghost.
He’s called Derek.
Every morning I wake up and find a pile of vomit under my socks, and a mysterious shortage of toast in the bread bin.
So I decided to try and capture said ectoplasmic apparition on film. Well, video.
Having invested in a new camera, I realised it didn’t have night-vision, so I spent the next week painting my entire house in a pale shade of green, and found a pair of inverse contact lenses.
I made a film during the day, but obviously nothing happened. So I just stared into the camera, breathless and scared looking, because I realised I’d ruined my carpets with the paint.
The resultant footage was fairly convincing, and I’ve always wanted to meet Yvette Fielding ever since she appeared in Seaview, so I sent it to Most Haunted.
When a producer arrived he was horrified by all the green ectoplasm plastered all over my home and furniture, so decided it would make a good episode.
But it turns out Yvette has quit the show because it doesn’t find enough ghosts. Instead, they sent that twatwagon Acorah around. Without any cameras. Or production staff.
The producer just arrived with him on a leash, handed me the end of it, turned on his heels and legged it.
Now Acorah just wanders around the house jumping at any given noise and making stupid voices. Plus he shits on the couch.
And he gorges on toast every night, before puking it up in my laundry basket.
I hate my ghost. I wish Derek would fuck off.
