The Terror of Talgarth Lighthouse.

A previously unknown Uncanny episode.

Nov 19, 2025

Part One.

The Mission.

This is another episode of Uncanny, the BBC podcast of the possibly paranormal, that was never released. Does it open secrets to the true world of the unknown, or is it merely a catalogue of incompetence, revealing that they cannot do even the simplest of jobs without making a complete and utter arse of it?

We join them as they finish filming an episode of the television spin-off, a relatively new experiment that allows us to see as well as hear as they disagree politely in front of a live studio audience.

‘Any more questions from the audience?’ Danny asked.

A hand shot up immediately, not missed by Danny’s eagle eyes. ‘Yes, at the back.’

‘Can I go to the toilet please?’

‘Yes, of course you can.’ Confident they could edit that out, and the groans, excuse me’s, and shuffling noises, as the man made his way along the entire length of the back row, Danny tried once more. ‘Anything from our lovely audience?’

Silence gripped the studio.

‘Maybe we could limit these live audience sessions to just eight hours in future,’ Evelyn whispered in Danny’s ear. ‘It’s gone two in the bloody morning.’

Danny spotted another raised hand and shot in that direction. ‘Yes, middle row on the far side.’

Lucy, the unfortunate sound recordist who had drawn the short straw of mobile microphone duty, gently stepped past the sleeping man at the end of the row. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised ever so quietly, gently tip-toeing past the man’s wife who was scrolling through videos on her phone.

‘I know Mike is rude,’ yawned Ciarán, ‘but at least by barging past people and standing on their feet, he gets there in less than a week.’

They watched as Lucy, five-foot nothing even in BBC standard issue crush resistant steel reinforced work safety boots, and more timid than a dormouse with severe anxiety issues, crept along the row of tired and unfortunately captive audience members, trying not to disturb anybody as she carried a furry microphone almost as big as herself. Several minutes and many apologies later, she finally got within range and dangled the furry ferret above the speaker.

‘Yes,’ Danny said, trying to whip up some excitement. ‘What is your story?’

Either caught up in the excitement of being on television, or she had simply forgotten because it was so long since she thrust her hand into the air, it took her a moment to remember what she was going to say. ‘Hi Danny. I’m Jessie, and I had like this thing happen.’

‘Sounds fascinating Jessie,’ Danny enthused. ‘Tell us about it.’

‘Well, I was like, you know, like.’ She pulled a face that could have meant anything. ‘Then I was like…’

‘Can we not just sack this off for the night Danny?’ Evelyn pleaded. ‘My alarm goes off in four hours and I’m bursting.’

‘…then I saw it and I was like…’

‘Good idea,’ Danny whispered back as the talking woman pulled another face. ‘That’s absolutely fascinating,’ he said across the audience, cutting off the prattling woman, ‘but unfortunately it’s all we have time for tonight.’

There were subdued cheers from the members of the audience who were still awake, then Danny went through the routine of winding up another show.

When they got back in the break-out room, Danny collapsed into a comfortable chair with an extra large paper cup of coffee. ‘Aaahh, wasn’t that great!’

‘If you mean great as in being of considerable extent,’ Evelyn said, ‘then yes, it was undoubtedly that.’

Ciarán did not comment, merely yawned so hard he nearly dislocated his jaw.

Danny sat forward restlessly, clapped his hands together and grinned like a demon on acid. ‘Well guys, what’s next?’

‘Sleep,’ Evelyn replied, checking her watch. ‘If you mean what amazing treat the directors have in store for us, we find out in the morning apparently. Right now I don’t care, my taxi awaits, and I intend to get some shut-eye.’

‘Aaahhhlllshunyer,’ Ciaran yawned.

‘And in English?’ Evelyn prompted.

‘Sorry, I’ll join you. Taxi time.’

‘Death, where is thy sweet sting?’ Ciarán said as he joined Evelyn at the table for breakfast, sipping at his orange juice.

‘Half past bloody three when I finally got to bed,’ Evelyn grumbled.

‘Morning,’ Danny breezed in cheerfully, carrying a steaming cup of black coffee. ‘I have our next mission.’ He ripped open an envelope, eyes like something demented scanning the epistle within. ‘Talgarth Lighthouse, wherever that is,’ he said, reading through the instructions. ‘Meet at my place Monday morning.’

‘What day is it now?’ Ciarán asked.

‘Sleep day,’ Evelyn replied while looking through the breakfast menu.

‘According to this,’ Danny said, ignoring the lack of enthusiasm, ‘we drive up almost to Blay? Blee? Blah?’

‘Give it here.’ Evelyn held out her hand, so Danny passed the letter.

‘Blaenau Ffestiniog.’

‘Yes, there,’ Danny said, taking back the letter. ‘From there we take the road to Lan? Flan?’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake.’ Evelyn snatched the letter back. ‘Llandanwg. Is there not just a postcode to slap in the sat nav?’

‘Well it’s a lighthouse on an island, so will it have one? Oh, hang on. Yes, there’s a postcode to where we get the boat.’

‘Boat sounds good if it’s an island.’ Ciarán yawned again. ‘Better than swimming.’

‘What are we supposed to find there?’ Evelyn asked.

‘A lighthouse,’ Danny finished his coffee while scanning through the rest of the instructions.

‘I know it’s a bloody lighthouse,’ Evelyn said. ‘Clue’s in the name. What are we supposed to find in said lighthouse? Poltergeist? Residual or intelligent?’

‘Doesn’t say.’ Danny folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. ‘There’s a warden on the island called Rudi Pretorius. I’ll take a rough guess he might possibly be of South African descent with a name like that. He knows the story, and we have to find out anything else ourselves.’

‘Well, all those crashing waves are going to cause infrasound,’ Ciarán thought aloud, ‘and a lighthouse is quite tall so there could be altitude to consider.’

‘Altitude?’ Evelyn stared at him with utter astonishment. ‘It’s at bloody sea level.’

‘Alright,’ Danny interrupted before another fight could kick off. ‘We will find out when we get there. Right now, I need another coffee.’

‘So, what do we know about this place?’ Danny asked Ciarán and Evelyn as they sat in his garden shed, waiting for Mike the sound recordist to show up. Always a tense time, wondering if he would arrive with a new excuse for not doing any work, or just not bother to turn up at all?

Evelyn was staring at her phone as usual. ‘Two lighthouse keepers disappeared from there in 1952. It is rumoured to be the hiding place of Lord Lucan.’

‘Isn’t every uninhabited island?’ Danny remarked.

‘And Shergar?’ Ciarán asked.

‘And Shergar,’ Evelyn confirmed. ‘And it hasn’t been used for anthrax testing. Not recently anyway.’

‘Ah, well that’s good news.’ Danny clapped his hands, nervous with excitement for the coming adventure, or just spaced out on strong coffee. It was hard to tell.

Ciarán was checking his bag, making sure he had every type of meter ever made, and a few that were yet to be invented.

‘Packed the cat balls?’ Evelyn asked as she scrolled through her phone.

‘Cat balls are not an accredited paranormal investigation or parapsychological research tool.’

‘Ouija board?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes?’ Evelyn was surprised enough to look up from her phone.

‘No.’

‘Shhh,’ Danny said. The shed fell silent as they all listened.

Nothing.

Then they heard a very faint tapping noise.

‘Mice?’ Ciarán suggested.

‘If it’s a spirit communication, it’s a very weak one,’ Evelyn said.

‘Shhh.’ Danny held up a finger. ‘It’s coming from the door.’

He walked as quietly as possible and listened at the door. The barely audible tapping sound started again, then stopped. Carefully and slowly, he opened the door, at first seeing nothing, then he looked down and saw two eyes looking up at him.

‘Oh, hi. I’ve got the right place then.’

Danny opened the door wide and saw Lucy, the sound recordist from the studio, dwarfed by her furry microphone.

‘Come on in,’ he said quietly, with no idea why he was whispering, it just seemed the right thing to do in front of this timid creature. ‘Is Mike with you?’ he asked.

Lucy entered the shed nervously, looking around in case she might accidentally be noticed by somebody. ‘Mike can’t make it. He’s…’ She saw Evelyn and Ciarán watching her and felt suddenly even more shy than usual. ‘He’s got a really bad dose of the shits.’

‘Oh what a surprise.’ Danny closed the door now she had finally stepped fully into the shed. ‘You mean he’s pulling a sickie as usual?’

‘He sounded pretty bad when he phoned,’ Lucy said, still standing just inside the doorway.

‘Oh dear God. Don’t say he played a recording of it down the phone!’ Evelyn screwed her face up in disgust. ‘It must be a sound recordist thing. He’s done that before.’

‘What a lovely conversation,’ Danny said sarcastically. ‘So you’re our sound team for the lighthouse job then?’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly so everybody had to strain to hear. ‘My manager wants me to get some outdoor experience. Thinks it might build my confidence’

Wants to get you out of the studio more like it, Danny thought. ‘Ah, we are so blessed.’

‘Does that mean we’re off then?’ Evelyn asked, still not looking up from her phone.

‘I assume so,’ Danny said, ‘if Ciarán can lift that bag with so much stuff in it.’

‘Oh, it doesn’t weigh much.’ Ciarán zipped up his holdall and popped the strap onto his shoulder. ‘They’re just empty cases really, with batteries, a few lights and switches, dials and things.’

‘Well, what do they do?’

‘Nothing really, just, you know, lights and things.’

‘Why take them then?’ Danny asked.

‘I like them.’ Ciarán patted the bag affectionately.

That appeared to mark an end to the discussion, so Danny drained the last of his coffee and put the kettle on. ’I’ll just make a brew for the road and we’ll be off then.’ He spooned half a jar of Black Widow super-strength double-caffeine instant granules into a flask, then packed his laptop and charger into their case while the kettle boiled.

A few minutes later they were loading their bags into Evelyn’s car because she refused point blank to endure another trip in Danny’s trusty Prius, fearing she could die of old age even before they reached to Welsh border.

With everyone aboard, she started the engine, and a loud rumbling sound filled the interior.

‘Oh, maybe we should take my car after all,’ Danny suggested. ‘Your engine doesn’t sound too healthy.’

‘My engine sounds bloody fantastic.’ Evelyn revved the accelerator and grinned like a gargoyle on LSD as noise boomed around them. ‘Four hundred and forty horsepower, twin turbo, chipped, and with a gas flow exhaust. We are off to Wales ladies and gentlemen.’

With that, she floored the accelerator and they shot down Danny’s quiet street like a banshee, leaving rattled windows and startled neighbours in their wake.

Next episode.

Arrival.

Read it HERE.