An Halloween Offering...

A little late, or is it early, I'm confused. Here is a Victorian Ghost story featuring my Great-great-grandfather Capt. David Richard Blackwood Ker, a Captain the First Dragoon Guards (now the Household Cavalry Regiment). This is copied directly from his journal for the day November 24th 1886, the day he took up his post as one of the guards at Buckingham Palace.

It was a blustery November morning when the Hansome that had carried me from King's Cross drew into the leaf-strewn courtyard overlooked by the state rooms and deposited me at my new home. Have only recently completed my time at Sandhurst, I viewed the Palace with no little trepidation. Just turned nineteen, I was not a little daunted by the prospect of discharging my solemn duty as commander of Her Majesty's personal guard. Of greater and more pressing concern, I must admit, was the prospect of meeting the men I was to command for the next three years; and as the cabbie passed down my trunk, I confess, a certain coldness seemed to settle over my heart.

The afternoon was waning, London settling under the weight of a night that promised frost. As the cab clattered out through the gaping arch that lead back onto Horseguards Parade, I hefted my trunk and turned looking for an orderly or, indeed, any other sign of life. As I did, a curious sensation stole over me and I glanced at the high clock tower that overlooked the courtyard. There high upon the roof of the old part of the Palace, stood a solitary figure, swathed in a traveling cloak and a shapeless hat of indeterminate material. Seeing him, I cupped a hand and called out a greeting.

"I say! Do you know where I might find the Orderly Room? I'm the new Cornet. With the Blues?"

My greeting, however, had a most extraordinary effect upon the peculiar figure. Upon hearing my cry, he arched his back and turning suddenly, scuttled away across the roof and out of sight on all fours, for all the world like a giant spider. Baffled, and not a little unsettled, I strode towards a small door from beneath which issued forth a comforting glow. As I reached forward to knock, the door was wrenched open by an enormous barrel-chested, red-faced man. Who fixed upon me a gaze of such malevolence, that I positively rocked on my heels.

"Who the devil are you sir?" cried the terrifying vision. Stammering, I managed to blurt out my name and thrust my orders toward him with a trembling hand. At once his aspect changed, and a queer timbre tinged his voice. "Ker, eh? Yes, we were told to expect you, come in", so saying the vast man ushered me in to what it soon became apparent was the Orderly Room. In front of a crackling fire sat a small man, the right sleeve of his uniform hanging loose, bent over some ledger entering a series of figures. The colossus grunted, and the small man looked up, running his cold dark eyes over me, like some oriental potentate assessing a wayward slave in an Arab souk. Evidently I passed some manner of test, for eventually he stood and extended his left hand which I rather awkwardly shook.
"Giles Carstairs, I'm adjutant".
"David Ker, though everyone calls me Richard", I smiled.
"Ker will suffice I suspect, this is Mcmanus, the officer of the watch." he snapped. Cowed, I swallowed and swiftly cast around for a safer topic, "Who was that extraordinary fellow I saw, by the old clock tower, in the cloak and shapeless hat?", I said with what I hoped was an ingratiating smile. There was a pause that seemed to last for a lifetime, as the two men stared at me, then Carstairs spoke, his voice like ice, "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about Ker, now get your kit and Mcmanus here'll show you to your billet." In the instance that the words were spoken, a flash passed over the face of the huge Mcmanus, and was gone.

Having been conducted to my billet, a dank room, lit by a single guttering candle, a knock at the door heralded the arrival of my batman, a bucolic Scotsman called Buchanan. Seeing an opportunity to explore my suspicions, I soon broached the subject of the spider-like man with my dour manservant.
"Look here Buchanan, when I arrived, I saw a peculiar man, on the roof...", but I had no chance to finish my question, for the wiry Scotsman had whirled round his eyes wild and staring, his hand flying to a small silver cross at his neck.
"God have mercy on you sir, God have mercy."
A little flustered, I asked in no uncertain terms what the deuce he meant by that. It seemed as if the room grew a little closer, and a little darker as a curious light came into Buchanan's eye. "I'll tell you a tale sir," said he. "A Tale as would turn your coal-black hair as white as fresh-fallen snow!"
Anyway, turned out I'd only gone and seen a fucking ghost!

More tales of the Ker's coming soon! Stay tuned!

chicken little (photos)

First, a small apology from the Dreadful's absentee web-landlord. My computer broke; I now have a new one. Huzzah!

Second, some lovely pictures from the Hen and Chicken gig are swarming around our flickr photo stream:


A full report of the Canal Cafe gig to follow very shortly, though some images of the event may prove unsuitable for a family website.


Eagle-eyed and under-employed Faver-fans and Dreadfuls-dorks (I'm working on that second one) will have noticed that there has been little in the way of updatage since our last show. Tuesday night at the Canal Cafe was super ace-i-o. Many thanks to all the lovely people who came and saw a mixture of old and new material, in an appropriately Victorian setting. We managed to put on six new sketches with varying degrees of success ranging from fine to excellent. We'll take that. Fun was had by all, including, fortunately, the audience.

In other news, David and I auditioned for an advert, and didn't get it. Damn you elusive big time!

The Continuing Adventures

Ladies and Gentlemen, announcing the next full length Aeneas Faversham gig:

Aeneas Faversham - the Continuing Adventures, at the Canal Cafe Theatre (Tube: Warwick Avenue, Bakerloo Line), for one night only, Tuesday 24th October, doors at 7pm, show at 7.30pm.

Tickets are £5 / £4 (plus + £1 Canal Cafe membership fee, unless of course, you are already a member). Book tickets in person at the theatre from 2pm every day /
email number of tickets & contact details to / call the booking line on 020 7289 6054.


The Canal Cafe Theatre, true to its name, is unnervingly close to a canal. It is oft thought that Victorian enterpreneurs invented The Canal, as 18th Century horses were notoriously lazy and objected to dragging heavy carts on high-friction roads, and preferred pulling heavy boats over low-friction water. However, canals were actually in use 6000 years ago in Mesopotamia. The Victorians had nothing to do with its invention. Ah well. Enjoy the show.