5 Monstrous Black Dogs from British Folklore

5 Monstrous Black Dogs from British Folklore 1

Not all Hounds of Hell are the same. HELEN JR BRUCE reveals regional variations in England’s infamous supernatural Black Dogs!

Black Shuck, painted by Helen JR Bruce
Black Shuck, painted by Helen JR Bruce

The Black Dog is a recurring figure in both traditional folklore and urban myth. With sightings of mysterious or frightening canine apparitions being recorded through history and up to the present day, there is undoubtedly something about the Black Dog which carries meaning for the human subconscious. Here are five local variants of this enduring archetype:

Hairy Jack

This Black Dog can be found roaming the county of Lincolnshire. Local myth portrays him as similar to the famous Black Shuck of East Anglia, describing how the sight of this monster can reduce the observer to a kneeling, quivering mess. Far larger than any normal dog, he is midnight black and sometimes said to have fierce, glowing eyes.

However, writing in her 1938 publication ‘Folklore’ Ethel Rudkin describes her own encounter with Hairy Jack, where she perceives him as more as a spiritual protector. This may seem surprising, but is by no means unheard of, as some Black Dogs are said to be the spirits of animals killed while protecting their masters. These spirits will allegedly accompany travellers for protection along treacherous paths.

Skriker

Lancashire is home to Skriker, who is said to haunt dark lanes and crossroads. Crossroads have long been associated with the supernatural, and our ancestors certainly believed that these were not just physical but also spiritual crossing places, where the veil between this world and the next was thin. Unlike other Black Dog apparitions, Skriker doesn’t often manifest visibly, but instead causes terror thorough the horrible wailing noise he makes.

The howl of Skriker, or Shrieker, is said to be an omen of death. Alongside his terrible shrieking, his presence may also be experienced through a persistent, padding footfall which is likened to the sound of shoes on wet mud.

The Black Dog of Newgate

Newgate Prison in London was built over the ‘New Gate’ in the city walls, and between 1188 and 1902 became known as the most notorious and dangerous of London gaols. Crimes including thievery, robbery and even debt could earn you time in Newgate, where you would be held in a filthy cell whilst waiting to be called to trial in front of the Royal Judges. The inmates in this overcrowded prison were desperate, and there was often not enough food to go round.

Black Shuck, painted by Helen JR Bruce
Black Shuck, painted by Helen JR Bruce

It was during one of these periods of near starvation that a fresh prisoner was thrown into the prison. Unlike many inmates, he was a scholar with a slim physique. Quickly, the desperate inmates made a decision and, finding that their victim was easily overpowered, ripped apart the man and squabbled over his flesh like a pack of street dogs.

But this grisly deed was only the beginning. As darkness fell the next night, the prison began to ring with ghostly howling and snarling. Terrified, the prisoners huddled together, but there was nothing that could protect them from the monstrous black hound that emerged from the shadows. It turned out that the scholar had been imprisoned for witchcraft! In canine form, he returned to seek vengeance on those who had murdered and eaten him, and he devoured every person who had tasted his flesh.

Barghest

The Barghest, or Barguest, is a legendary goblin dog of Yorkshire folklore. It is described as having huge teeth and claws, appearing at night to ill-fated travellers. To see this creature is said to be deadly, and even a fleeting glimpse of this apparition  heralds death within a few short months. 

A few tales suggest that the only way to escape the Barghest is to cross running water, presumably with your eyes closed, as the spectre cannot make the crossing. But even if you manage to avoid looking it it, the strike of its paw can leave you with a wound that will never heal. This particular Black Dog is so closely associated with death that it is said to lie across the doorway of a house where someone will soon die, and also lead a procession of howling local dogs through the street after a notable death.

Padfoot

Local to Leeds, the legend of Padfoot may have offered some inspiration to JK Rowling, as she gives the animagus Sirius Black the nickname of Padfoot in her novel ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban‘. The choice seems fitting, as this creature is said to follow victims with a soft padding sound, and also sometimes the clanking of chains. Much like the Barghest, seeing the Padfoot is an omen of death, and a little like Skriker this monster can unleash an unearthly roar.

Attempting to interact with, or speak to, the Padfoot is the very worst thing you can do. Stories state that this action is sure to render you helpless to the beast, and once in its power you may be compelled to follow through whatever deadly plans it has for you. One foolish man is said to have kicked the Padfoot, and was dragged through ditches for miles by the creature before being deposited in a heap back at his house.

HELEN JR BRUCE is a folklorist and author who is particularly fascinated with Black Dog folklore and the Wild Hunt. She writes regularly for a range of magazines and journals and the first two books in her fantasy folklore ‘Heat of the Hunt’ trilogy are available now.

Watch Black Dogs from British Folklore Video

Ghostwatch: A Legacy of Horror

Sarah Greene, Michael Parkinson and Mike Smith, from 1992's Ghostwatch

Ghostwatch celebrates its 30th anniversary this Halloween. MACSEN MATTHEWS says the spooky masterpiece still holds strong today, leaving a legacy of real life terror in its wake

Sarah Greene, Michael Parkinson and Mike Smith, from 1992's Ghostwatch
Sarah Greene, Michael Parkinson and Mike Smith, from 1992’s Ghostwatch

Believe it or not, 1992 was a great year for horror, with the likes of Candyman, Evil Dead III, and my own monstrous birth, proving to become the stuff of nightmares for adults and children alike. 

That fateful year, one of the most infamous and legendary pieces of horror media came to grace us from one of the most unlikely of places – A BBC special.

Ghostwatch aired BBC1 on Halloween night, 1992. It is best described as a “mockumentary”, although the term had not quite entered the pop-cultural dictionary in the early 90s. It was not the first of its kind – many had used the pseudo-documentary format before – however, Ghostwatch was among the first to delve into the realms of the supernatural, presenting the classic ‘ghost story’ in a factual manner, without the satire that often accompanies the ‘mock-’ part of the genre. 

With this in mind, it’s no surprise how this one off piece of fiction accidentally fooled the nation.

The Plot

If you haven’t yet seen Ghostwatch, you should dip out of this article now and come back when you have, because this is the lowdown: 

Presented by good old Michael Parkinson, Ghostwatch follows the “live” investigation of a house in Greater London, home to Pamela Early and her daughters, Suzanne and Kim.

The family report strange happenings centered around a ghost they nicknamed Pipes – named after the initial belief that the noises were “just the pipes”. 

The on-site investigation is led by Blue Peter’s Sarah Greene with Craig Charles, who are in seemingly good spirits (pun intended) at the beginning of the night. Back in the studio, Parky is joined by Mike Smith, Greene’s real-life husband, and Dr. Lin Pascoe, a “paranormal expert”, portrayed by Gillian Bevan. 

Throughout the night, the weirdness increased, very much mirroring the real-life Enfield Poltergeist case, even to the point of “catching” the girls initiating some of Pipes behaviors. When they are caught red-handed, Parkinson – being the reliable, down to earth presenter that he is – dismisses the entire haunting as a hoax, but Dr Pascoe is undeterred, as are the supposed “live viewers”.

Throughout the show, a number is displayed, encouraging viewers to call in and report their own ghostly visitations and share their opinion on the events taking place. These “viewers” begin to report sightings of Pipes in the background of the broadcast, and eventually, a caller reveals that unknown to Dr Pascoe and her research, a former tenant of the house, Raymond Tunstall, lived and died there, whilst believing himself to be haunted by the spirit of a 19th century baby farmer, Mother Seddons – Inspired by the real-life Amelia Dyer.

Even as the girls are discovered creating some of the activity, calls continue to escalate, with “viewers” claiming bizarre happenings are taking place in their own homes and that their own children are acting strangely. 

Through this, Dr Pascoe realizes the broadcast has manifested a “national séance” which provides Pipes with incomprehensible power. The broadcast is disrupted and the police arrive at the Early house, only for Sarah Greene to be dragged back inside and trapped, much to her husband’s dismay. Pipes takes control of the studio, blowing out lights and causing panic. 

Now alone in the darkened studio, our host, Michael Parkinson wanders aimlessly. His speech disintegrates until, in Pipes own voice, he chants nursery rhymes and the film ends abruptly. 

A tense scene from 1992's Ghostwatch
A tense scene from 1992’s Ghostwatch

Aftermath

What was meant to be a frightfully fun mockumentary ended up traumatizing a nation. I mean that quite literally. 

A report in the British Medical Journal in February 1994 and its subsequent responses suggested Ghostwatch caused post-traumatic stress disorder in six children between the ages of 10 and 14. If this were a tabloid article, it may earn the heading, “Ghostwatch gave my kids PTSD!” But this claim isn’t quite as serious as it sounds. Even the article itself goes on to describe the children’s states as a “brief anxiety reaction to the television program”. In layman’s terms, kids were scared of a TV show, then when on with their lives. The same thing happened to me when I watched Watership Down, and I haven’t brought it up to my therapist. Yet.

However, if this was the only instance of an adverse reaction to a single program, we wouldn’t be here, would we?

It’s said that the BBC switchboard received over one million calls following the broadcast. Not all of these were complaints – many were praising the film’s dynamic format and some were callers trying to report their own ghostly experience or join in with the show. Still, some report an estimated 30,000 angry calls, with Parky’s own mother among them.

People – especially children – were terrified. Sarah Greene even appeared on Children’s BBC the following Monday, to assure youngsters she was fine and the film was a piece of harmless fiction.

But the tabloids were not finished with Ghostwatch.

Certainly, the most tragic tale to come out of the whole affair was the very real death of 18-year-old Martin Denham. Martin was a factory worker, reportedly living with unspecified learning disabilities, who according to his parents, became terrified of ghosts following the program and went on to commit suicide five days later. His own house was said to host a faulty heating system and he connected the knocking of the pipes to Pipes the ghost. In their rather understandable anger, Martin’s parents blamed Ghostwatch for his death, however, the Broadcasting Standards Commission refused this complaint, along with 34 others which claimed the film caused viewers psychological distress. They were however, required to hear the complains and respond, stating that “The BBC had a duty to do more than simply hint at the deception it was practicing on the audience.”

In response, the BBC issued an apology, recognizing that had they predicted the audience response, they would have made Ghostwatch’s fictional nature more clear. 

Ghostwatch – written by Stephen Volk – has never been re-aired on any UK television network. However, this did not mean it went unnoticed.

Impact

As is often the way, the delectably taboo status of Ghostwatch probably helped to encourage its cult status. Even before it’s VHS release in 2002, as well as the upcoming Blu-ray, the phenomenon that is Ghostwatch went on to inspire the creative endeavors of a generation. 

One of the most well-known examples of this is illusionist, Derren Brown’s TV special Séance, in which a false story of a student suicide pact is presented as real to a group of Roehampton University students. During the televised séance, viewers were invited to participate on their own and encouraged to report and strange goings on they experienced. If you hadn’t already guessed, the story was fiction and the “ghost” the student’s believed they were channelling – a woman named Jane – appeared alive and well at the end of the show. While this was an example of the unintentional mind games at play during any attempted séance, Brown has stated that he was directly inspired by Ghostwatch. 

Another excellent example of the legacy of Ghostwatch can be seen in the black comedy series, Inside No. 9, and their Halloween special, Dead Line. Broadcast live, the filming of the episode seems to go astray, with interference in sound and picture resulting from Granada Studio’s alleged real-life ghost. Throughout its duration, audience’s and actors interact with each other on Twitter in real time.

I’d also argue the echoes of Ghostwatch inspired the development of the contemporary paranormal-reality program trend. Ghost hunting shows, the likes of Most Haunted and Ghost Adventures, although controversial in themselves, exploded as a genre in the early 2000s. Prior to this we had Unsolved Mysteries, and Arthur C. Clarke’s Mysterious World, which dramatized the occasional ghost story, but they never really put us, the audience, in it with them. Although intentionally fictional, Ghostwatch showed us the scares that can come from the investigation itself. It propels us to the edge of our seat with rising tension, a structure which is mirrored in paranormal TV.

Despite conflicting reports on exactly when its directors saw Ghostwatch, we couldn’t pass by the similarly infamous Blair Witch Project, which became a corner stone of the found footage genre. Both films give their in-universe ghosts a voice through “locals” who convey the relevant lore and take some of their narrative starting points from real-life hauntings, in this case, The Bell Witch.

Why It Works

But what is it that makes Ghostwatch so scary? Thirty years later, we can re-watch and notice how its scenes and acting are clearly scripted, it’s fair to question just how anyone thought it was real at the time. It aired at 9pm, post watershed, as part of BBC’s Screen One – a fictional anthology series, so why were so many people fooled?

What Ghostwatch did so well, was blur the lines between fact and fiction. It’s casting was genius – hand picking a variety of our most trusted famous faces and getting them to deliver fictional content. Who would believe Michael Parkinson would try and fool us? He’s not an actor, is he? That’s what makes his end possession scene especially chilling. 

Sarah Greene, a well-known children’s presenter – on something as wholesome and trusting as Blue Peter – would never be put in any actual danger, would she? That’s not very family friendly, and that’s what makes it brilliant. When she and Mike Smith – her real life husband – show genuine affection and fear for the other’s safety, it makes the audience believe it too. 

We expect the cast to deliver us factual news. They’re not actors. They’re not playing a role and so we expect to trust what they say and what they do. Putting these innocent, everyday TV presenters in fictional situations doesn’t just break the fourth wall, it tears it down and threatens us with it. We’re inclined to believe the horrifying happenings are true, and that means it could happen to us just as easily.

As for audience interaction, I’ve already mentioned the phone line. Of course, with fictional “callers” furthering the plot by reporting sightings of Pipes behind curtains and in shadowy bedroom corners, real callers tried to do the same. The ghost can be spotted throughout the program, in some cases, passing by unnoticed by all involved, encouraging the real life audience to call in to report it.

As a fictional show – prerecorded, of course – the real life caller was met with a message reinstating that the show was fiction, but asking the them to share their own paranormal story if they wished. What could not have been predicted was the sheer number of calls Ghostwach received. There were so many, in fact, that the switchboard crashed and the nice, reassuring little message, was not played. As prerecorded “calls” were still discussed on the show, a fun little piece of interactivity took on a whole new realism. 

Even mirroring the infamous and supposedly true Enfield Poltergeist case, and including a baby farmer inspired by a real murderer worked to sway the public into belief. Those in the know would have thought, “Oh, I’ve heard of that!”, and without the likes of google to support or deny the details of such things, the audience likely recognized the stories and this swayed their belief, even on an unconscious level.

Of course, this wouldn’t happen today. Not in this age of social media – something Inside No. 9 used in its favor during its own Halloween broadcast. Today, a quick google search would have (probably) told us we were watching a piece of interactive fiction. Unlike the pseudo-horror documentary style fiction before it, such as Cannibal Holocaust, Ghostwatch didn’t intent to fool its viewers. Much like Orson Welles’s War of the World radio broadcast, it wasn’t really meant to be believed. But just like that day in 1938, people tuned in and were fooled.

Ghostwatch completes this divine trinity of ‘true’ horror media. If War of the Worlds is the father and Cannibal Holocaust is the bloody son, Ghostwatch is indeed the Holy Spirit. After 30 years, an unofficial BBC ban, later cult followings, personal-mass screenings and subsequent documentaries, Stephen Volk’s masterpiece still hold strong today, leaving a legacy of real life terror in its wake.

Tell us your memories about Ghostwatch in the comments section below!

Watch Ghostwatch Interview with Stephen Volk