Tara's first day had constituted mainly of observing Todd, who'd been drafted in to cover while they found a replacement for the missing-presumed-nibbled James Jam. Most of the actual information gathering was pretty straightforward, but remembering how to work a radio console would take some practice – she'd neglected to mention in her interview how on more than one occasion at college radio she'd actually hung up on a caller and somehow tapped into CIA surveillance. They were alright about it though, apparently it happened all the time.

She made her way down the stairs, smiling at a few people she recognised but could not yet name. At least, not accurately. Surprisingly few people react well to casually being called Nigel. As she neared the exit Cass, the goth receptionist, emerged from a back room.

"Oh hi, how's it going?"

"Bit of a whirlwind, but I think I've got the basics down."

"You'll get the hang of it in no time, it's a piece of cake one you've got your head around it. Once Latenight Lucy called in sick at the last minute and I had to do her call-in show for her."

Recalling something being mentioned about this show earlier in the day, Tara asked "Is that the one where-"

"Yep. I thought I was quite worldly until I had to answer those phones. Are you doing anything for lunch?"

After a quick text to Naboo to confirm that the first day went well and that she would be home later than expected, Tara allowed Cass to lead her to a nearby cafe, whose pizza toasties she heartily recommended - "It's salami, mozzarella, a little basil, and this amazing tomato relish, you have to try one!"


Hearing the jingle of keys at the front door and muttered curses as Vince yet again tried to open the locks in the wrong order, Howard quickly stopped what he was doing and hid the evidence, standing flushed, sweaty and guilty-looking in the middle of the living room. Realising the implications of those three combined, he stuck some jazz on and tried to look relaxed before he was subject to another excruciating lecture on what was acceptable behaviour in personal and public spaces. All because he'd accidentally put on trousers remnant from his weekend as a male stripper.

Vince and Naboo respectively trotted and trudged up the stairs, immediately shutting off the stereo. "Alright Howard."

"Hi guys, what's happening? How'd it go?"

"It was great, we were a massive hit! She loved my stuff, and," Vince sniggered. "She certainly liked what Naboo had to offer."

"Shut up Vince." Glared Naboo, from the kettle. Next to the kettle that is, he wasn't doing a low-budget Aladdin tribute.

"What's that mean?"

"I don't want to talk about it." The shaman replied, as his phone went off. Not coming home. Staying in this cafe and living solely on their amazing toasties. Send money.

Naboo smiled a little, then disappeared into his bedroom to get on the crystal ball to Yakoo.

Vince turned innocent blue eyes to Howard."So, what've you been up to?"

Panic. Don't panic. Change the subject. "N-nothing. This parcel came for you."

"Oh, brilliant, I know what this is!" Excitement illuminating his face, Vince tore into the packaging. "Ghostfacers!"

Howard frowned at the cheap-looking dvd cover. "What on earth is that?"

"It's great, it's like Most Haunted but real! These guys go to old houses and stuff and look for ghosts, and they know how to scare 'em away and everything! That's why I've put salt on all our windowsills, keeps ghosts out." He finished proudly.

"Is that also why I found piles of salt all over my jazz shelves the other day?"

"Jazz is evil, Howard." Said Vince seriously. "It couldn't be allowed to escape."

"Riiiiight. Well I hate to break it to you Vince, but ghosts aren't real. You've just spend precious pounds on a dvd of two blokes running around in the dark screaming at their own brains."

"Ghosts are totally real! What about that time at the zoo we kept finding all the cupboards and drawers open? Ghosts do that all the time!"

"So do sleepwalking chefs." Replied Howard wearily. "Remember, Gary had lost his measuring spoons, but the gibbons were using them in their folk band."

"Oh yeah, Gibbons of the Wishbone, they were great, I've got their LP." Vince smiled. "And alright, but what about the moaning?"

"What moaning?"

"The moaning, at night! I keep hearing it when I'm trying to get to sleep, there's moaning and thudding somewhere inside the walls, the sound of distressed souls! We should get the old goth gear out and have a séance."

Realisation dawned on Howard. "Don't be daft Vince, it's just your imagination. Probably the pigeons on the roof." He explained, making a mental note to remind Naboo to check the expiry date on the soundproofing spell he'd supposedly put on his bedroom.

"So, you wanna watch some of this?" Asked Vince, bounding towards the DVD player.

Howard tried desperately to think of some excuse, but was able only to come up with a game of poker with marmosets. Knowing that Vince would likely wish to join him in that, he agreed.

The low-budget show began, with the investigators explaining that this week they'd be searching for a suspected witch. Howard paid little attention to the details of their plan, sitting instead with an expression of smug scepticism. That is, until the Ghostfacers found their subject of the week.

Naboo emerged from his bedroom and shuffled towards the kettle, stopping sharply when Vince and Howard yelled his name.

"You never said you were on Ghostfacers!" Cried Vince.

Naboo looked up at his own poorly lit pissed-off face on the telly. "Oh god, them. They thought I was a witch, and when I told them I was a shaman one of them said he was a shaman and called me a fraud."

"They've got a shaman too?" Asked Howard.

"Nah, just some muppet who's 1/16th Cherokee. But he wouldn't leave me alone, so I threw a waking nightmare curse at him."

"And that got rid of them?"

"Not really. I missed and hit their intern. Turns out his nightmare is giant wasps. Had to leave pretty quickly after that."

Obviously I own nothing but an extremely extensive DVD collection.