the exorcist, the exorcyst, midult horror stories, horror story, terror, twisted terror

Midult horror films

Night of the Living Extroverts

It was after dinner when they all started taking cocaine and suddenly everyone was raging about mortgages and trying to rap to Gangsta’s Paradise. There was nothing she could do – except join in so that she too looked like a wanker.

Nightmare on Oxford Street

She knew she shouldn’t have done it. She should have stayed where she was and then she would have been safe. She should have listened to her friends. She should have heeded the warning signs. But no. She abandoned all reason and went to Oxford Street on a Saturday. Now she can’t get those horrifying images out of her head. The crowds outside Debenhams… the empty premises that was once HMV…

The Exorcyst

It just started out as an ordinary milia in the middle of her forehead. But she was weak and attacked it with her nails. And when the nails weren’t enough, she took a pin to it. And when it was bleeding, she screamed because the milia was still there and she knew she would get shouted at by her facialist. She can still hear the screaming (‘Just leave it alone, you f***ing idiot’)… she can still see the blood (even though there really isn’t very much of it).

Go Out

One Friday night, a woman’s worst nightmares come true. Forced to leave her house and socialise when she would rather be at home on the sofa in her tracksuit bottoms, she will be made to interact with other humans in a location that is playing loud music. She will be expected to drink. She will be judged for calling an Uber at 9.45pm. She just wants Radio 4 and a bath – but instead she must Go Out…


She tries to hang a picture herself. And horror ensues….so she has to call THE HANDYMAN. He charges £100 minimum because it’s a Saturday, but she can’t stand to look at that succession of tiny holes for one second longer.

An American Tourist in London

Get over to the right hand side of the escalator! Stop walking down the middle of the pavement so slowly! No, I don’t know the Queen!


My emotional baggage. My Waitrose shop from the car. My keys because otherwise I’ll forget where I put them.

The Hair Itch Project

She has used too much dry shampoo… and now she must scratch, scratch, scratchy-scratch

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