This Is Not A Democracy

I think I just trapped a nerve in the top of my back.

Serious owie.

Also, Most Haunted is announcing their psychic artist with such fanfare. He's crap. I'm better than he is. My pictures actually have features not just generic smudges, for a start.

(For those of you who don't know, Ian from my team used to be on this prgram as one of their psychics. They buried him alive, once.)

It's probably ironic how cynical I am about other psychics. Some people are such morons and frauds.

*bitchslaps*

Last night at the Viaduct Tavern. I'm in this one.

Check out my paranormal investigation team.

We've got some videos up from some of the places we've been, now. They're quite funny.

So, some of you (most of you?) know that I'm a ghostbuster psychic artist and team co-leader for London Paranormal Society.

Well, my regular co-psychic/team leader, Steve, has set up a YouTube account for LPS, which includes some of his own UFO footage and a 17 second piece of a chair infront of a locked off camera moving by itself. The team (I was absent, but that's Steve's voice) were at the other end of the room at the time.

Check it out.

Apparently, the investigation we're doing tomorrow is for a major Tokyo TV channel.

So. Stuff, then.

Went on a Paranormal Investigation on Saturday/Sunday at the Clink Prison museum. By a weird fluke, the curator was someone I remembered from primary school. It was very strange. I walked home with Steve, who used to be in the Gay Psychics thing with me and Ian (Steve was one of the team leaders on the day) and the walk back to Trafalgar Square was fricking bizarre.

While we were in there, it had rained enough for drains to flood. We walked back along Embankment and at one point distinctly heard the sound of footsteps running along wet pavement behind us. I turned around and there was no one there. We kept walking. As we got to Cleopatra's Needle we were talking casually, as psychics are wont to do, about the ghost stories associated with the area - in particular the naked man said to bolt across the road and launch himself into the Thames, where he's said to have drowned. Imagine the looks on our faces, then, as, just as we reached the western edge, there was a colossal splash.

Something like: O.O

It was one freaky-ass experience. Especially when we then we were shortly gifted with a thunderstorm.

Anyway: Ian just asked me to join them at Kelvedon Hatch, as a member of the team. He'd already acted as if I was a member of the group at The Clink - advising people to come to me to close down from the meditation we'd started with, if they needed to leave for any reason (I know fuck all about Chakras and hate meditation because I'm too restless, so that was a bit of a shock - I'd better do some reading up). Today he emailed me and said he loves my psychic drawing (read: my scribbling) and asked if I wanted to come along as a member of the team. They're trying to sort out transport, so I said yes.

I'm officially a Ghostbuster again. Well. I've got the bust, they've got the ghosts, so...

I wanted to go to Kelvedon Hatch when Ian first announced it. It's one scary-ass place, from what I've heard. It's where the country would have been run from if the world have come to nuclear war. During the contruction of the place, it's said that a man fell into the cement. He's still there. Or, what's left of him is. People have paid to spend a week living down there and not lasted a night. It's one scary-ass place... I don't know if I mentioned that. However, that's all I know about the place. I don't know whether to read up on it or not - I don't want to taint my perception of the place, but I don't want to go in blind. I'll think about it.






The other stuff I felt like mentioning was a realisation I came to yesterday, while considering the fact that Valentine's Day approaches apace... More depressing even than unrequited love at this time of year, is a life so fucking lonely than there isn't even anyone you want to send a card to.