The Beware! Dead (Local) Celebrity Séance - part 1: Willy E. Wilkonson

Some months ago, Beware! had a chance encounter with members of the Blackpool Society of Psychical Investigation (BSPI), whilst attempting to avoid an angry car park attendant (That's a long, boring story which you can read about in the local press. - Ed). By chance, we had stumbled upon their attempt to contact the spirit of a long-dead local celebrity, Willy E. Wilkonson.

Hypno The Rapy, Scourge Of The Northwest, Killed By Fridge

A fridge. (Photo: Magi
Media. CC BY-SA 3.0)

Wilkonson had spent several years in the town performing as a magician, but when variety acts fell out of fashion in the mid '80s he reinvented himself as a hypnotherapist. However, a series of sexual assault allegations led to the town's main newspaper, The Blackpool Standard, coining the nickname 'Hypno the Rapy'. Wilkonson's career never recovered. Not long after, Wilkonson was killed whilst walking through Blackpool, when he was struck by a fridge pushed from the top of a town centre carpark. Although never charged, a rival hypnotherapist, Benjamin Shortpike, was popularly thought to have murdered Wilkonson in retaliation for bringing Lancashire hypnotherapy into disrepute. Shortpike died not long after, in equally suspicious circumstances, when he fell from the same carpark onto the fridge which was being delivered to replace the one which had killed Wilkonson.

A séance. (Public domain.)

The BSPI's séance was a relatively quiet affair. No other media were present, and our being there was unobtrusive. The séance was being conducted in the function room of Blackpool's Adelaide Grande Hotel which the BSPI had rented for next to nothing in return for promising to run up a healthy bar bill. The Adelaide had been the venue for Wilkonson's final public appearance, the final night of his ill-fated 'I Can Feel You Feel' Lancashire Tour in 1986, and the investigators had hoped to exploit that connection in order to bring about Wilkonson's ghostly attendance at the séance.

Blackpool, England's New Ghost Convention Centre

Although the séance was pitched as "a bit of local colour" with which the local press could fill a half-page article, the reality was viewed rather more cynically. The Adelaide was performing badly and closure seemed imminent. Furthermore, the town council was considering compulsory purchases to redevelop vast swathes of Blackpool's centre but the Adelaide's owners had sentimental ties to the property and they were keen to prove its value to organisations viewing Blackpool as an important conference location. Around this time, a Northwest events organiser was considering Blackpool for the International Symposium of Paranormal Research, and they wanted a venue with 'history', so the Adelaide's owners put in a formal bid.

Séance Of The Century

BSPI's Chris Morris in front of a photo
of Hypno The Rapy – though it might be
Terry Jones and Michael Palin.
(© BBC. Used without permission.)

The following is our transcript of the séance. We have indicated instances which we believe were staged or faked, ad-lib-style, and those which actually did seem to be genuinely unexplained, phenomena. Personnel are as follow:


B!: Adrian Darvell and Gwilliam Mêlée lumped together for ease of reading, but occasionally initialled.

JB: Jeremy Brooke, BSPI
CM: Chris Morris, BSPI
RC: Rebecca Cully, BSPI

SK: Sarah Kettering, Adelaide Grand Hotel
MK: Mike Kettering, Adelaide Grand Hotel

B! reps enter lounge area of the Adelaide, and take a seat in a booth at the edge of the room. In the booth immediately to our left, BSPI personnel are already set up. Extra chairs and tables have been pulled over to their booth to support various electronic paraphernalia connected with their ghost-hunting exploits. GM of Beware! heads to bar for one bottle of Magners (the only cider they serve) and one orange juice. Blackpool is a quiet town; he is served swiftly and returns to the B! booth.

[A brief conversation occurs involving both parties. B! is introduced to the digital audio recorder by JB, and we agree some ground rules, namely that we will not engage with any paranormal entities encountered during the séance, unless requested to do so by JB, CM or RC of BSPI. B! would witness the séance but would act for the most part as impartial observers.]

CM: Okay, let's get going. Mike, can we get the offerings?

SK appears with a mug of soup and some disappointing-looking bread on a mismatched side plate, and places it on the séance table. CM throws a condescending look and points to the next table. SK picks up the items and places them unceremoniously on the other table.

CM: I guess there's nothing wrong with a false start. [Leans into mic] Becks has the specific offerings for our target spirit. Becks, if you would.

RC places an odd assortment of objects on the soup table.

CM: [To mic] Let the record show that Becks has placed objects connected with our target spirit, William Wilkonson, on the offering table. We have a pair of unlaundered trousers, retrieved from a charity shop bag left at the front of Sue Ryder following a house clearance, a TV remote from the same bag and a tank from the fridge which was responsible for his death.

JB: It's a compressor.

CM: What?

JB: It's not a tank, it's a compressor.

CM: Okay, compressor... Right, the offerings are, er, offered, and we'll start with an opening prayer of protection to get things off in the right direction. In the name of God, Jesus Christ, The Great Brotherhood of Light, the angels Michael and Gabriel, please protect us from the forces of evil during this spiritual connection. Let there be nothing but light surrounding us and let us only communicate with powers and entities of light. Protect us, protect this hotel, the people in this hotel, Blackpool in general, and let there only be light and nothing but light. Peace and love! [Makes embarrassing peace sign] AMEN!

JB: [Whispers] We're supposed to be holding hands.

CM: [Places hand over mic; whispers] Look, spirits aren't going to give a fuck if we're holding hands or not and the microphone can't see it. Okay? Okay!

RC: [Cutting in] We reach out to any spirits in the vicinity and ask them to offer a sign of their presence.

JB: Lights are supposed to be off.

CM: Doesn't matter. SPIRITS!?

Lights flicker. AD notes absence of bar staff during this. Inaudible muttering.

CM: Thank you. Can you do that again?

Lights flicker, as if on demand. Again AD notes absence of staff. MK peers from behind bar area.

CM: Thank you again. We're now gonna try to ascertain which spirit, or spirits, are currently present. We extend a hand of warmth to those spirits and appreciate them giving their energies to this séance. Spirits! Please indicate the method by which you would like to communicate.

A loud bang is heard, seemingly from the direction of the bar. At the same time, the sound of a table of chair leg scraping on the ground is heard. Confused expressions from the BSPI guys.

CM: [Whispering] Did one of you kick the table?

JB: [Baffled expression] Er, no. I, er, heard the knocks, though.

CM: [Whispering] I thought we weren't doing table tipping?

JB: [Whispering; signalling with agitated nods and angry eye-staring] It's whatever the ghost wants, right?

CM: [Shrugs] Well, whatever. Spirit, you have indicated you will communicate using 'spirit knocks'. We ask you to use one knock for 'yes', two knocks for 'no', and three knocks for 'don't know'. We also ask you to use a series of knocks to specify a number. Do you agree?

There are a few seconds of silence, towards the end of which the BSPI guys look slightly uncomfortable. Eventually, there is a single knock. Not surprisingly, it comes from the direction of the bar.

CM: Er, thank you. Will you confirm that you answered 'yes'?

Less waiting, now. There is a single knock. CM looks relieved, but then the table they're sat at slides about a quarter inch towards him.

CM: Thank you, spirit. [Whispering angrily] Seriously, Jeremy, are you kicking the fucking table?

JB: [Raises eyebrows and widens eyes, then looks at mic. Whispers.] We. Are. Re. Cording.

CM looks unsatisfied by this response. RC shoots sympathetic look to JB and then an embarrassed smile to B!. B! react with professional indifference, because, well, we're professionals!

JB: Maybe we should, y' know, go after an identity?

CM: Yes! Yes. Okay. [Adjusts the desktop mic] Yes. Identity. I... den... tit... teee.

JB: [Whispering] Chris? You okay?

CM: Hm? Yusss... Right, identity. Spirit! Are you male?

One knock.

CM: Thank you... Sir. Are you... local?

One knock.

CM: Thank you. Are you recently departed? [CM places hand over mic] What? Who wrote these? They're awful. Jez, is this your handwriting?

JB: No, it was that intern you were fu—— [JB is cut off by a loud knock]

CM: Well, I suppose if this is all I've got... [Clears throat] Did you die peacefully?

Two knocks.

CM: [Leaning into mic] Let the record show that the spirit responded with two knocks. Two knocks for 'no'. Two knocks for dead, unpeaceful.

The table jerks a half inch away from the group. The legs screech on the floor.

CM: Fucking hell, who's doing that?

AD to GM: [Whispering] This guy's losing the plot!

RC: Shitting hell, Chris, tone it down. No one's doing this – unless you've got your foot on the table!

CM: Don't be ridiculous.

JB: Christ, guys, can we take five? I'll cut the interruptions later and make it sound like one hit. Chris, why are you so fucking uptight? I can fix the audio.

CM: If it's not convincing, the online community will roast us. I don't want those 13 O'Clock bastards getting any mileage out of this. They'll screw us bad. Scepticism is back in, remember.

JB looks awkwardly towards AB and GM.

JB: This is normal for audio. All the best ghost shows do it. Zak Bagans practically admits to it!

AD googles Zak Bagans on phone, realises he's a hack. At this point AD suggests to GM that he get a couple of extra drinks from the bar.

AD: I've got an idea. Back in a sec.

AD takes the Beware! dictaphone – well, a dictaphone app on an iPhone – to the bar with him. Barman (MK) takes a little while to reappear.

AD: Missed your cue, there, mate! Can you tighten it up? It'll take us ages to edit.

MK: It's not easy from over here. I can barely hear what you're saying over the extractor, even with this prompt list.

CM appears at the bar as MK hands AD his change. AD overhears CM as he carries drinks back to GM...

CM: (To MK) What was he talking about?

AD: (To GM) Leave the drinks! We've gotta go!

To be continued [insert spooky music]...

Merchandise Roundworm - Beware! floral design by Circuitsnap

Alright, hop-skippers. There are a few questions that regularly get asked of your friendly Beware! editorial team - often when we're out and about, bouncing and bopping at a local free jazz gig; squatting and grunting behind the car park; or wobbling and prodding at the top of a ladder defacing Tory billboards. It all gets a bit loud and pointy at times, but we welcome the attention, because we're filthy beasts.

One of your chief questions relates to merchandise, our merchandise. "Is there any?" you ask. Well! Today, faithful follower, you are in luck. Also tomorrow. But hey, slurp whilst the stew's hot.

Your editors and contributors have collectively and singularly got a whole houseful of purchasable products to show and tell. We're going to start this new merchandising infestation (Column, surely? Ed) with a wearable and shareable item that relates specifically to this blog:

Beware! T-shirt (/mug/miniskirt/duvet etc)

Beware! The Zine design, on a T-shirt (Circuitsnap)

It's true folks, you too can wear this exquisitely delicious neo-psychedelia-inspired floral design that features our name loud and proud. It's been released by Circuitsnap, the arty alter-ego of half our editors.

Find it here for worldwide purchases on frillions of different surfaces: Beware! Floral Collage Logo at Redbubble

Also on Amazon in the US, specifically as a T-shirt: Beware! The Zine floral collage T-shirt at Amazon

Buying this design is a pretty fab way of supporting our efforts in bringing high-quality investigative journalism to the masses (Check this. Ed) and helping us stave off the bailiffs for another month.

Star Test

We asked local anorak B. Pillock to review this very design, and they mumbled a bit and then sent the following missive by scrunched-up till receipt:

"They only ask me to annoy me. I couldn't eat my dinner off it as it wouldn't fit in the crisp packet. I mean it's an alright image I suppose, it's got six letters and one piece of punctuation (I favour the latter), and over a dozen flower shapes at disconcerting angles. No particular odour. How many words do I have left? Can I mention my new" (Sniiiip! Ed.)

Back of the Rack

Meanwhile you can follow the arty endeavours of the other editorial 50% at Redbubble: Gaffamondo ... Here are a couple of his highly-chucklesome books at Lulu: Dear Annick When Fandoms Collide ... MoMoJaJa is a family art project with more designs than you can shake your foot at, again via Redbubble ... Cult band Keshco have a ton of EPs to download (featuring all our contributors) at Bandcamp ... Poetry contributor Drew Walton has a couple of pithy and impassioned collections, also at Lulu. See you soon, folks!

Station Of Critical Review By Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay: The 13 O'Clock Podcast

The 13 O'Clock Podcast

Kennedy's Laborious Introduction

Sentiment of greeting, at you, from me! 'Twas too long a period of silence and no-speak, and it was high time for rectification. And here I am, ready to rectify. Rectii. Rectus, Rectum. That's probably Latin for something clever. I shall have my offspring check it on an internet for verification.

The last time I did dare venture out to offer my critical reviews, I was prevented by the cad, Dex Diabolo. And a cad he is. I would have had plenty to say about the wonders of Peter Davison's The Hunt For The Ptero-dactyle Apostates, amazing and full of wonder as it is. But shunned were I, and quiet I stayed.

But not no more. I am back, returned from the hospital ward where I was stowed, to bring to you my most achieviest achievement to date. Upon my headstone will be chiseled the words, "Here lay the greatest critic, Kennedy Hiscox-Wormegay, whose words toppled libraries."

(Kennedy won't be writing the headers, 'cos he's sh*t at them. - Ed.)

Jenny's and Tom's Guilty Pleasures: Real-Word Criminality and Bat-Shit Crazy People's Bat-Shit Crazy Paranormal Experiences

As my legion of four regular readers will attest, I am decidedly unfamiliar with the trappings of the Wide World Web. That said, I have been known to venture into its wiry and electronical depths, to drag facts out into the light for the consumption of my legion, which includes my psychiatrist, his psychiatrist, the editor of Beware! The Zine, and the guy who delivers my meals-on-wheels and who also proof-reads my work.

This week's wondrous digital offerings are made in the old British colony of the United States of America, which is an island off Cuba. It is a podcast, which is like a worm cast which you find on a beach, but instead of containing worm guts and sand, it contains information.

The 13 O'Clock Podcast is still relatively young, but has swept forward with its foul-mouthed, common-sense attitudes toward famous paranormal events and real-life crime stuff. The routine is of a weekly arrangement, alternating between spooky things, such as ghostly intrusions and cryptozoological weirdies, and evil murder killy moments of life-ending ferocity. 'Tis clear that the podcast boss and goth-fringe-wearer, Jenny Ashford, is dedicated to the study of these two disparate subjects, and she is accompanied by goth companion and romantic property, Tom Ross, who provides exposition and vape sound effects. The vaping is very audible. Is there a hidden message in the puff pattern of Tom Ross? Perhaps he is crying out for help? Or perhaps he is crying out for more vape? Or perhaps I am overthinking this.

But it is true that Tom vapes A LOT.  He sounds like a train puffing steam. He is Tom The Vape Engine.

(Enough with the vape talk! We don't need a lawsuit!- Ed)

Jenny Ashford and Tom Ross, of the 13 O'Clock Podcast.

One should make mention of the fruity linguistic palette with which Ashford and Ross paint their wordy deliberations. They like to use what colonists call curse-words, but which Britons call potty-mouth. Never in a million minutes did I think I would hear so exotic a word as f-f-f... Ack! I cannot bring myself to repeat it, lest I explosively blush all the blood out of my face and onto the floor! I shall leave such naughty-word-talk to Messrs Ashford and Ross! They are good at it.

"POLTERGEIST!"

This is what Tom shouts when Jenny describes a ghostly anything. It seems that once in Tom's young life, he lived upon a mountain where spectral mammoths did wander, and his home was invaded by them. I may have an incorrect end of the stick, but that is the gist. And every time Jenny does suggest a ghost, Tom doth utter, "Poltergiest!" and "That'll be poltergeist activity!" and "Are there kids there? That's poltergeist!" I think he really likes poltergeists. Or maybe just the word. Jenny Ashford wrote a book with Tom about his mammoth poltergeist problem.

Tom does not ever sound like a mad person in the podcast, and this lends weight to any strange things he might make utterance of. The Mammoth Mountain Poltergiest can be purchased here. Read it and know of Tom Ross's unusual life before he was an army man.

The Unseen Hand

Jenny Ashford likes to write. If it were not for her fondness for talking, one might make a speculation that it is all she does. Write and write. She is of a prolific disposition and has written about subjects other than Tom Ross's poltergeist-ridden childhood. She has written about an unseen hand. Now, one might wonder how much there is to say about a hand which cannot be seen, but I am ensured that this is a metaphor, and that I probably also misunderstood the mammoths in the previous paragraph. This book deals in exclusivity with poltergeist phenomena, which must make Tom Ross very extra happy. It is a lengthy and example-saturated collection of historical and newish cases, and each one is given just enough typed attention to be interesting, but not so much that it should be a different book – such is Jenny Ashford's skilled treatment of The Unseen Hand. The audio book is of welcoming nature, but regular listeners of the podcast might be perturbed by the lack of swearing and also the lack of Tom Ross.

Those who wish to roll their eyes upon the text of this may do so via Amazon, here.

That is all from me. If you missed me, the blame must fall firmly at the feet of Beware!'s editors. If you didn't miss me, you will learn to.

Faithfully yours,

Kennedy H-W

(If you want to hear/see more from Jenny and Tom, and you want to support them, consider purchasing one of their physical or audio books, or go to their Patreon page, here. And don't forget to listen to the podcast! - Ed)

Late Edition! Jenny added that she writes true crime literature, too. Check out 'The Faceless Villain' here.