I was once staying
at my Uncle Harold’s place in the London suburbs. I was chatting to the neighbour over the fence one afternoon and the bloke was adamant that my uncle’s place was haunted. One night I was asleep and woke up suddenly to hear this weird squeaking noise…almost like shopping trolley wheels or something.

I was shit-scared but I opened my eyes and when I did I swear on my mum's life I could see a ghostly figure of a court jester on roller-skates.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 12:40, 2 replies, latest was 15 years ago)

I'm calling bullshit
on account of it implies you were nice to this neighbour
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 12:43, Reply)

I'm calling Rentaghost

( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 12:56, Reply)