What we do in our spare time (by Andrew Wooding)

Since Mike and I started 2MG a few months ago - (2MG is our new snazzy abbreviation for 'Two Men and a Ghost') - a lot of you have asked us what we do in our spare time when we're not out and about on our nocturnal excursions, methodically scouring the highways and byways of Sheffield for definite proof of ghost activity.

I say 'a lot of you'. What I mean is, a couple of you have asked us what we do in our spare time. Well, one of you. Well ... not even one. Apparently, none of you care in the slightest what we do in our spare time. But Mike's drawn this cartoon of us unwinding in between our important investigations, so I'm going to inflict it on you anyway. As you can see, it's fun fun fun at 2MG Mansions. Boy, do we know how to let it all hang out. Even Mike's cat is infected with the party spirit.

One thing I realised the last time I unwound was that I didn't completely finish the story of our first trip to Graves Park. After our utter and total failure to find any form of light to illuminate that sign in the dark, we returned downhearted to Mike's car to have a detailed and important debrief.

'I think we need to bring torches next time,' said Mike.

'Mm,' I agreed.

Our debrief over, I suddenly saw that there was something black and indistinct in the dim light of the road in the distance. What could it be? A stray dog? A fox? A starving squirrel foraging for nuts? Or something more sinister and supernatural heading straight for us?

I pointed it out to Mike, but he couldn't see it.

Doubting my eyes, I peered into the distance and spied the spectral shape again. It was weird and formless - unearthly, even - and it was still on the move.

Alarmingly, it also seemed to be moving in time with my head. If I turned slightly to the right, it also turned right. If I turned slightly to the left, it did likewise. Could it have become psychically linked with my neck muscles?

I pointed it out to Mike again, but he still couldn't see it.

'Pah! Are you blind?' I snorted, and I thrust my hand forward to point his eyes in the right direction. It was then that I noticed my finger was pointing at a small speck of muck on Mike's windscreen. It was weird and formless - unearthly, even. Except it wasn't unearthly, was it? It was just an ordinary speck of muck. Peering into the distance through Mike's windscreen, the speck had appeared blurry and far off and had moved in time with my head.

Ah well. So close and yet so far. We almost had proof this week that ghosts exist. We were 99.9% certain of it. We were that near to finally knowing for a fact that paranormal beings roam the streets of south Yorkshire at night.

Too bad it was just a piece of shit on Mike's car.

Better luck next time? Maybe ... if we remember to bring our torches.