In August 1977, the Hodgson family claimed they experienced a series of inexplicable and terrifying events that would soon make their home at 284 Green Street in Enfield, North London, the site of one of the most famous alleged hauntings in British history.

So since it’s August and the 47th anniversary, lets have a recap.

And because it’s been ‘done to death’, I’m going to write it whilst channelling Guy Richie 🙂

It was the summer of ’77, North London, and things were about to get proper weird on Green Street. Peggy Hodgson, a tough-as-nails single mum, was just trying to keep her head above water with her four kids. You know the type—lived in a modest council house, scraping by, nothing too flashy. But what Peggy didn’t know was that she was about to have a run-in with something that was anything but ordinary.

So, it’s a sticky August night, and Peggy’s in the kitchen, probably thinking about bills or what’s for dinner tomorrow. All of a sudden, there’s this banging noise upstairs. Loud, too, like someone’s trying to kick their way out of a locked room. Peggy’s ears prick up. At first, she’s thinking the kids are having a laugh—Margaret, Janet, Johnny, and Billy. They’re always up to something, right? But then she realizes, nah, this is different. This ain’t the kind of mischief you’d expect from a bunch of kids. This is something else.

She legs it upstairs, bursts into the girls’ room, and there they are—Margaret and Janet, white as sheets, eyes wide. And that’s when Peggy sees it: the furniture’s gone mental. Beds are shaking like they’re having a fit, and the wardrobe’s trying to moonwalk across the room. Peggy’s tough, but this? This is next-level.

Next thing you know, it’s not just the knocking. Nah, the whole gaff’s gone bonkers. Chairs are doing the cha-cha across the living room, toys are flying like they’re in some sort of invisible brawl, and the kids are screaming blue murder. But it’s Janet—poor, eleven-year-old Janet—that’s getting the worst of it. The whole thing seems to have it in for her. And the best part? She starts floating. That’s right, floating. One minute she’s in bed, the next she’s in the air like she’s auditioning for The Exorcist.

The neighbors start catching wind of what’s going on. You know how it is, word spreads like wildfire. The neighbors hear the ruckus and soon the whole street’s out there, rubbernecking. So Peggy, who’s had enough of this nonsense, calls the Old Bill. The coppers show up, thinking it’s just another domestic, maybe some kids mucking about. But they walk in, and one of them—a proper hard-nosed sort—sees a chair slide across the floor. No one’s near it, no strings, no funny business. The copper’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, but what’s he gonna do? Arrest a ghost?

By now, the story’s in the papers, and it’s the talk of the pub. Some say Peggy’s lost the plot, others reckon there’s something darker going on. But everyone’s curious. That’s when the big guns show up—Maurice Grosse and Guy Lyon Playfair, a couple of ghost hunters with more guts than sense. They move in with their gadgets, cameras, and tape recorders, ready to catch whatever’s haunting 284 Green Street.

These geezers ain’t messing about. They’ve seen some things in their time, but what’s going on in Peggy’s house? It’s enough to make even them second-guess their career choices. They’re there night after night, and the weirdness just keeps on coming. Janet starts talking in this creepy old man’s voice, saying his name’s Bill Wilkins and he’s the real landlord around here—only problem is, Bill’s been dead for years. The voice is rough, like he’s been on 60 a day since the war, and it’s coming out of an 11-year-old girl.

The press are loving it. Every day, new headlines, new photos—like the one where Janet’s doing a mid-air star jump, except she’s supposed to be asleep. But not everyone’s buying it. Some reckon Janet’s a bit of a cheeky monkey, pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. She even admits later that she might’ve, you know, exaggerated a bit here and there. But even then, most people are thinking, “No way she faked the whole thing.”

After months of this paranormal circus, things start to quiet down. The ghosts, or whatever they were, must’ve had their fill. The house goes back to being just another dreary council house on a dreary street in North London. But the story? That sticks around.

Years later, Janet comes clean—sort of. She says yeah, maybe they played up to the cameras a bit, but most of it? That was the real deal, she says, and it scared the life out of her. Grosse and Playfair? They stand by it. They reckon they witnessed something no copper, no journalist, and no skeptic could explain away.

So, was it a ghost, a poltergeist, or just a bunch of kids having a laugh? Who knows? But one thing’s for sure: the legend of the Enfield Poltergeist is gonna be whispered about in North London pubs for generations to come. And if you ever find yourself on Green Street, you might want to keep an eye out—just in case Bill Wilkins fancies a chat.

Bonus Points if you read it in Jason Statham’s voice 🙂