Three Men Seeking Monsters : Six Weeks in Pursuit of Werewolves, Lake Monsters, Giant Cats, Ghostly Devil Dogs, and Ape-Men
They sought out the strange.
They investigated the inexplicable.
They had one hell of a hangover.
On an odyssey of oddities that would take them all to the very limits of their imagination (and inebriation), bestselling author Nick Redfern teamed up with professional monster-hunters Jonathan Downes and Richard Freeman. For six weeks in the summer of 2001, the intrepid-yet-hard-partying trio rampaged across the remote wilds of Great Britain in hot pursuit of werewolves, lake monsters, giant cats, ghostly devil dogs, and ape-men. Their adventures led them deep into ancient forests, into the dark corridors of a mansion hiding a wild man, and to the shores of the legendary Loch Ness -- along the way encountering all manner of curious characters, including witches, government agents, and eyewitnesses who claim to have seen monsters firsthand. And only at journey's end did the hard questions posed at the start of their quest begin to reveal some mind-bending answers. That monsters truly do exist in our world. And that we are responsible for their existence!
Whether you're seeking a glimpse into the bizarre reaches of reality, or just looking for a good time, Three Men Seeking Monsters is a uniquely gonzo trek with a trio of adventurers who pushed themselves to the edge -- and went right over it.
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March 30, 2004
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Excerpt from Three Men Seeking Monsters by Nick Redfern
Chapter One: The Monster Busters
We're a happy family, we're a happy family...
"We're A Happy Family," The Ramones
My story begins on a hot summer weekend in 1997. Everything was good in the world. My first book was about to be released by a major British publisher and we had secured serialization for the title in a leading Sunday newspaper. I had just eaten an artery-blocking English breakfast after a beery night with Matthew Williams, then editor of the conspiracy-based journal Truthseeker's Review, and the man who would find fame in the latter part of 2000 as the first person to be arrested, charged, and convicted for making a crop circle. And in roughly two hours time I was due to deliver a lecture on the history of UFOs and the British government to the assembled throng of the curious, the mad, the paranoid, and the allegedly normal that had congregated at Sheffield University, England, for the yearly conference of the British UFO Research Association.
I turned off my Walkman from which the mighty and punk-dominated sounds of the Neurotic Outsiders echoed, entered the main auditorium of the university, and looked to see who was there. Right away, among the crowd of several hundred, an assortment of stalls, booths, and a group of spotty youths in Trust No One T-shirts, I was accosted by a greasy-haired old geezer who asked me in an accusing tone: "You're one of the lecturers, aren't you " I nodded. "You can't do a lecture in a black T-shirt, jeans, and a motorbike jacket!" he yelled. "Didn't you bring a shirt and tie "
"No, I did not. I don't wear shirts and ties," I answered quickly and firmly. I continued on my way and left the man complaining about my lack of commitment to the seriousness of the event as he accused me of being "with the government."
Suddenly, I was stopped in my tracks by a veritable behemoth of a character in a badly ironed brown suit (that was covered with a number of suspiciously positioned stains) striding purposefully toward me.
"Graham, come on!" the man bellowed mightily at a painfully thin, bearded fellow in a sweater and jeans behind him who, carrying an assortment of boxes crammed with books and magazines, was struggling to keep up. "Out of my way, peasants!" screamed the Hulk-like figure at all and sundry while waving a half-consumed bottle menacingly in front of them. "I have brandy and harlots to devour!"
As the assorted and astonished crowd made way in a fashion that reminded me of the parting of the Red Sea, the man stopped in front of me. Towering over me at around six feet six inches in height, surely four hundred pounds in weight, and sporting a wild beard and even wilder hair, he boomed, "Who the hell are you "
"I'm Nick Redfern; who the hell are you "
The man's tone suddenly changed; his voice took on an outrageously affected style and a beaming smile came over his face. "My dear, dear boy. I'm Jon Downes. I've been looking for you; I want to interview you for Sightings magazine."
"Oh, yeah, I know who you are. You do those lake monster and big cat investigations, don't you Don't you run a group or something "