The Piss in Yer Pants Gang knows my secret.

It's Friday night, and I'm flipping through channels. I've been stuck on psychic/medium/I see dead people tv shows lately, and I'm jonesing for a fix. I have no idea what happened to Lisa Williams, but John Edward should be on soon, thank goodness.

I somehow ended up watching Most Haunted. It's not because the show is good. The premise of the show is as follows: "Host Yvette Fielding is joined by a ghost-hunting team to investigate Europe’s spookiest sites. As experts from the paranormal field, the team attempts different methods and experiments to try and communicate with the dead."

Except every time there's a fucking noise in the building they're "investigating", every cast member jumps and shrieks like a 6-year old girl at a slumber party.

It's not like they wandered into an abandoned mental hospital because their car broke down and cell phones haven't been invented yet, THEY'RE LOOKING FOR GHOSTS.

Take right now, for example. They're in an old prison. It's night time. They're all British, and they have a film crew.

"So roight now, Oi yam walking down this corridor, and DIDJA HEAR THAT?!" Cast members cling to each other as the camera pans the room.

"Spirit, if yer there, bang on tha' window". (A muffled thump is heard as a sound man halfheartedly kicks a wall with the tip of his work boot.) "OH, FOOK! WHAT THE BLIMEY HELL WAS THAT? OH, JAYSUS CHRIST!" (OK, I may be muddling my accents, here.)

Thankfully, the crew has night vision cameras to catch the terrified, hyperventilating expressions of the cast members, I mean, experts.

"ONCE FER YES, TWO FER NO - DO YOU MEAN OOS ANY HARM?" (Thump.)

"Holy God, DIDJA HEAR THAT?!" (whispering loudly) "It means us harm!"

Eek.