Bro and the Urban Legend
Mar. 27th, 2022 10:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootLong text chat with the bro yesterday. Among the many subjects discussed, we naturally returned to Devizes, which is now described on Countryfile's webpage as:
'...a charming market town worth visiting for its ancient architecture, rich history, and fantastic shopping. Drop by on a Thursday for what remains of the old markets, and grab a bargain from the fruit and vegetable stalls. Other stalls include the charming Olives & Stuff, various arts, crafts and fabric stalls, plus a highly regarded butchers and fishmongers. When you’ve had your fill of food, Devizes has a modern high street, plus a range of independent businesses that specialise in gifts, arts and crafts. Hours can be lost wondering around the numerous boutiques and Shambles Market. If you aren’t the shopping kind, then Devizes still has plenty of attractions. The Wiltshire Heritage Museum is designated by the government as nationally important for its extensive and fascinating collection that documents the history of Wiltshire and of archaeology itself. The Kennet and Avon Canal is nearby, with a pleasant walk along its series of charming locks, where you can spot many an entertainingly decorated boat moored outside historical houses. If after all that you need a stiff drink, you can take a tour of the Wadworth Brewery. The active brewery still delivers draughts by Shire horse, and tasting tours are available from the visitors centre.'
How adorable. My brother and I recall it as being the strangest of small dull towns, though apparently it was not as dull as I thought.
This urban legend was very much a product of 70s England, where children were either traumatised by public information films ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vb00H6mCTM8) or living in a perpetual pre-school acid trip (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF5SG7_zl2Q0 ). Under such circumstances it might be safe to say we were none of us the most reliable witnesses. Still, he claims it really happened.
Bro was introduced to this in 75 by a classmate, and apparently a whole bunch of them went to test it in the phone box outside the pie shop. There was a phone number you had to call often described as a series of 20s but my brother recalled as 'tap the receiver... two taps for two, and ten for zero'. He said, 'we crowded into the phone box, did that and we heard; "help me. Suzie's dying."' He said it was a clear voice and it just went on forever, like a recording.
He'd forgotten it until he read a letter in Fortean Times and it all came back to him. But what was it? I would guess a test signal come prank, especially as the call was free.
It's also a great basis for a horror story. As Countryfile reveals, the old town has polished up very nicely. But it does make me wonder if I should maybe return and explore in search of stories old and new. Ghost armies, asylums and medieval cemeteries, haunted phone boxes and castles with monks striding the battlements, every creepy trope under the sun, there's loads there, just waiting.
And yet, I can't quite shake off this vague reluctance. I feel like the heroine of a cautionary tale in which the moral is simply Not To Do The Thing. Don't stay overnight in the haunted house, don't answer the phone, don't go walking by yourself... But who can resist a creepy story?
'...a charming market town worth visiting for its ancient architecture, rich history, and fantastic shopping. Drop by on a Thursday for what remains of the old markets, and grab a bargain from the fruit and vegetable stalls. Other stalls include the charming Olives & Stuff, various arts, crafts and fabric stalls, plus a highly regarded butchers and fishmongers. When you’ve had your fill of food, Devizes has a modern high street, plus a range of independent businesses that specialise in gifts, arts and crafts. Hours can be lost wondering around the numerous boutiques and Shambles Market. If you aren’t the shopping kind, then Devizes still has plenty of attractions. The Wiltshire Heritage Museum is designated by the government as nationally important for its extensive and fascinating collection that documents the history of Wiltshire and of archaeology itself. The Kennet and Avon Canal is nearby, with a pleasant walk along its series of charming locks, where you can spot many an entertainingly decorated boat moored outside historical houses. If after all that you need a stiff drink, you can take a tour of the Wadworth Brewery. The active brewery still delivers draughts by Shire horse, and tasting tours are available from the visitors centre.'
How adorable. My brother and I recall it as being the strangest of small dull towns, though apparently it was not as dull as I thought.
This urban legend was very much a product of 70s England, where children were either traumatised by public information films ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vb00H6mCTM8) or living in a perpetual pre-school acid trip (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF5SG7_zl2Q0 ). Under such circumstances it might be safe to say we were none of us the most reliable witnesses. Still, he claims it really happened.
Bro was introduced to this in 75 by a classmate, and apparently a whole bunch of them went to test it in the phone box outside the pie shop. There was a phone number you had to call often described as a series of 20s but my brother recalled as 'tap the receiver... two taps for two, and ten for zero'. He said, 'we crowded into the phone box, did that and we heard; "help me. Suzie's dying."' He said it was a clear voice and it just went on forever, like a recording.
He'd forgotten it until he read a letter in Fortean Times and it all came back to him. But what was it? I would guess a test signal come prank, especially as the call was free.
It's also a great basis for a horror story. As Countryfile reveals, the old town has polished up very nicely. But it does make me wonder if I should maybe return and explore in search of stories old and new. Ghost armies, asylums and medieval cemeteries, haunted phone boxes and castles with monks striding the battlements, every creepy trope under the sun, there's loads there, just waiting.
And yet, I can't quite shake off this vague reluctance. I feel like the heroine of a cautionary tale in which the moral is simply Not To Do The Thing. Don't stay overnight in the haunted house, don't answer the phone, don't go walking by yourself... But who can resist a creepy story?
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