Once Upon a Prime Time - NATIONAL SÉANCE 2026

Greetings, Ghostwatchers! And so, once more, we find ourselves at what is inarguably the most wonderful time of the year: that thin, creaky, tail end of October when people are handing out sweets to themselves, watching something reassuringly stupid on the radio, or pretending not to have heard a noise upstairs; while the rest of us are preparing to spend an hour and a half staring intently at a 1992 television drama as though it might finally blink first.

Oh, yes. Welcome to National Séance 2026.

A quick word of apology before we begin. I have been busy. Very busy. So busy, in fact, that this page has been assembled with all the grace, precision and mathematical confidence I last displayed during my GCSE Maths exam. Incidentally, I got an E. This is not an attempt to lower expectations; it is merely an important piece of consumer information.

Still, the important things are ready. There is Ghostwatch. There is the aforementioned Hallowe’en Night. There are people all over the world who will be watching it together. And there is, almost certainly, a face somewhere in the curtains/static/crisps just waiting to be found.

For anyone joining us for the first time, National Séance is not a real séance. No one is required to sit in a circle, hold hands with a stranger, or invite an ancient spirit to communicate through the age old medium of the... oh, I don't know. It is simply our annual communal watch of Ghostwatch, the BBC1 special drama first shown on 31 October 1992 which very ably frightened the cotton keks off us forevermore.

Since 2010, Ghostwatchers have gathered in their own homes — sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, sometimes with enemies, sometimes with a cat who has very strong opinions about the sound mix — to recreate the full repeat transmission that has yet to fully happen. The idea is beautifully simple: have your copy of Ghostwatch ready and press play at precisely 21:28, the exact same time it originally began on BBC1.

Then, settle in and join the conversation online with #Ghostwatch and #NationalSeance2026.

It is a small thing, really. Just a few hundred thousand of my closest chums, perhaps, all watching the same old programme at the same moment. It must be said however, that this recurrent virtual gathering gives the evening a peculiar (though fortunately machine washable) warmth. The opening titles arrive, the familiar reassuring faces of yesterday appear, somebody spots Pipes far sooner than you did, someone else is convinced that Bubby has just waved at us for the seventh time, and before long the whole thing feels very nearly live again.

There are little ways to make it even more authentic, should you wish. The continuity announcement and iconic Screen One ident are available on the old YouTube web paged broadband site, that help give the sense that something supposedly ordinary has slipped into the house through the television set and is now standing behind the sofa. Basically, any full copy of the programme and a willingness to be mildly disturbed will do very nicely, this evening, indeed. Further advice, instructions and demands are available by clicking here or the handy tab above.

Speaking of little monsters, this year’s bedtime story comes with the (presumed) seal of approval from my reasonably attentive son Freddie, who understands the proper construction of a spooky tale 0.47% better than Stephen Volk himself. A story must begin safely. It should have a nice house, perhaps, a family doing ordinary things, or a sensible person explaining that there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Then, very gently, it should introduce a strange noise. Then a shadow. Then something that ought not to be there. Like a cucumber on roller blades. My lad knows that the best scary stories do not rush. They let you do some of the work yourself. That's where the real horror lies.

Case in point: you should hear the last one he came up with about how many kids he's going to have one day. And apparently, I have to buy all of them car seats and do all the cooking for him and his future missus. Jesus Christi. And don't get me started on Werewolf Patrol. It's my shift again tonight.

That is why Ghostwatch still works so beautifully, thirty-four years after its first broadcast. It knows that the scariest thing in the room is not always the thing leaping out at you. Sometimes it is the thing you thought you saw, or the thing that was definitely not there a moment ago, or an entirely innocent reflection in the television screen that sends you into the kitchen to make a cup of tea you do not actually want, or even head to the nearest WC for a break you didn't even know you needed.

There is a story — well, a legend — that Ghostwatch: Once Upon a Prime Time was planned to appear just weeks after the original broadcast: a gentle little book sent out into the world to reassure younger viewers that what they thought they saw on television that Hallowe’en did not, in fact, happen. The house was not haunted. There was no Pipes. Nobody was trapped in the Glory Hole. It was only a story. The end. Clear?

Anyway, for those fortunate enough to have picked up a copy of Ghostwatch: On The Night on Blu-ray: thank you, genuinely. If not, tonight is the last night it'll be on special offer for the foreseeable. We hope it makes your Hallowe’en viewing that little bit more authentic, whether you are watching for the hundredth time or introducing someone to the joys of Sarah Greene standing beside a suspiciously untrustworthy cupboard under the stairs.

CMG Productions / Channel 5

APPARENTLY, there may be a little competition this evening, too...

Elsewhere on terrestrial television, there is a new documentary inspired by Ghostwatch. It is always good to see the programme continuing to invite fresh attention, and particularly lovely to see Stephen Volk and Craig Charles back on the telly box. I have not seen the piece, nor was I or anybody I know from our longstanding family of Ghostwatchers approached to contribute, so I cannot say what it explores or how it approaches the story. But it is heartening that, all these years later, this peculiar, brilliant little piece of television still has enough life in it to bring people back to Foxhill Drive.

Comparatively disheartingly however, is the sheer number of online outlets (including even the Radio Times) sharing the '30,000 complaints' line — long-disproved by this very project. Hopefully, the documentary itself has more adequate fact checking. So there.

Our own appointment, however, remains exactly where it has always been: at home, at 21:28, on Hallowe’en night, with Ghostwatch waiting.

Happy National Séance, everyone. Have fun, say hello, share your sightings, and do remember to look after anyone watching for the first time.

And if you hear a cat meowing from somewhere it should not be, please try not to make too much of a fuss. It probably only means an unfathomably painful and terrifying end is waiting just around the corner.

With that said.

Until it happens again.

Just try not to have sleepless nights...