Greetings, Manor Hors! Today "The Roving Pecker" presents two boxed gifts for Boxing Day from our own Raincoaster. Dare you open them? Bwahahahahaha! Who is it? Smee. But the question is: is that good news or not? A jolly country house Christmas party. All the food, all the comforts, all the jollity of the season due the prosperous English gentry. A happy bachelor guest, excited for a grand holiday. A posh game of hide-and-seek. “Every player is given a sheet of paper. All the sheets except one are blank. On the last sheet of paper is written...Smee. Nobody knows who Smee is except Smee himself – or herself. You turn out the lights, and Smee goes quietly out of the room and hides. After a time the others go off to search for Smee – but of course they don’t know who they are looking for. When one player meets another he challenges him by saying, Smee. “The other player answers, Smee, and they continue searching. “But the real Smee doesn’t answer when someone challenges. The se...

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's entry is from Raincoaster! If there's one thing we know about Jerome K. Jerome , it's that his parents were people of remarkably little imagination. That said, it's a flaw their son did not share. One of the most famous and popular humourists of his time, Jerome K. Jerome had a talent that hasn't become stale with age, unlike many of his peers. For that reason, today we're posting his explanation of why, exactly, ghost stories are traditional at this time of year.  It's the old pagan idea,  evolved over centuries,  that the powers of evil grew stronger with the darkness; with Christianity, it's the idea of evil becoming more powerful until the birth of Jesus, who beat them all back, leaving them to flee until Halloween. But there, I'm getting ahead of my betters. Let's learn from the very best - and the funniest ...

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's blood-cirdling entry is from Raincoaster! You won't thank me for this one. If Tarnhelm was creepy, this seasonal story is next-level terrifying. Ready your night light; you'll need it. A jarring mashup of an anticipated jolly holiday for a joyful young man, and a terrifying, yet morally understandable haunting by the most horrific of criminals, this tale shows the true mastery of the short story form by Anglo-Canadian author Algernon Blackwood . He wrote several seasonal stories, and his catalogue is rich, even if he never was. Blackwood had the kind of resume to which modern writers can only aspire: dairy farmer, theosophical society founder, yellow press reporter, proto-pulp author who skillfully wove indigenous legends into contemporary fiction, whether the setting were the French marshes (The Willows) or the northern Canadian woodland...

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's chilling entry is from Raincoaster! It's your lucky day...but maybe not Toby Crooke's. He's dead, you see. Although inert from the opening of the story, he's the central and titular character of J. Sheridan Le Fanu 's complex, charming, and chilling Christmas ghost story, "The Dead Sexton." Le Fanu's lesbian vampire tale, "Carmilla," helped inspire Bram Stoker's "Dracula," and is certainly responsible for the great lashings of sex appeal in most of the Dracula legacy. His style is what people think of as the "classical" ghost story, because he is one of the foundational authors of modern horror. The reason it feels familiar is that every horror author you've ever read has been influenced by him. Naturally, there's a sexy, supernatural, and mesmerizing character in this sto...

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's chilling entry is from Raincoaster! The snow. The pure, driven snow. The beautiful snow. The sparkling, seductive snow. The deadly snow. We in Canada know that the snow, the gorgeous and mystical messenger of Winter, can be as fatal as it is stunning. But Hugh Walpole, the largely-forgotten but once-popular writer, was born in New Zealand. Nonetheless, he was educated in England from early childhood, in a series of schools which terrorized the delicate lad, so much so that he expunged all but the most prestigious from his entry in Who's Who. His style nods to Horace Walpole (no relation except in the Gothic and psychological nature of their writing), Nathaniel Hawthorne (particularly in this story), and to his dear (perhaps intimate) friend Henry James. Mannered, tense, subtly building to a climax that seems inexorable but may also be nothing ...

Welcome, movie hors! Tonight, at 9pm EST/6pm PST, is the night, as our delightful host, Raincoaster , explains:  Come, child. Come into the manor. Enter without fear (for it will do you no good). Leave behind your inhibitions, worries and attachments to any given space/time continuum. Logic is not welcome here. You have entered the world of Mario Bava’s "Lisa and the Devil." As Bree has eloquently noted, this film is beautifully photographed, enthusiastically acted, gorgeously decorated, brilliantly scored, and absolutely batshit insane. There’s no point – at any point – in asking me what’s going on, because I must have seen this film ten times (at least three of them sober) and I have no fucking clue. This a good thing, I promise! One of the looniest things you notice right up-front is that the titular Lisa is American, but is played by the thickly-accented German baroness, Elke Sommer (who is now a painter in LA). You might remember her from the "Pink Panther" or...

Honk-honk! It's Monday, yes, but as most of you know, this needn't be cause for concern, as our Monday Mayhem Manor Parade™ is right now marching throughout the estate and outlying township, bringing joy to all who behold it.  Feeling blue? Come outside or gaze out your window. Who can resist the sight of marching fowl, pandas, chickens, and, of course, a smattering of Bendy Boyz™? Life beyond our hamlet may be troubled, but here? Relief and giggles. Fred says it best:  Meanwhile, Mr. Tristin Spratt, your devoted Peckerwood MajorDomo, would like to thank all who attended Peckerwood's first "Klassy Manor Movie Night" last Saturday eve, hosted by our very own Raincoaster! It was a rousing success, though the Manor crew had much popcorn and detritus to clean up, along with the scrubbing-up of suspicious fluids and goo in the back row of the second balcony.   Would you like to host a "Klassy Manor Movie Night?" Do email us to set it up. Here are a few things...

Hooray! It's movie night at Peckerwood Manor. Raincoaster, your esteemed programmer, has selected "Hundreds of Beavers," the directorial debut of Mike Cheslik (here in all his porn-stache glory ) (would, right?). This 2022 movie, which has received near universal acclaim , is described thusly: "In this supernatural winter epic, a drunken applejack salesman must go from zero to hero and become North America's greatest fur trapper by defeating hundreds of beavers!" So we've got comedy, we've got slapstick, plus beavers, beavers, beavers. In other words, the perfect Manor movie. How to watch with everyone this evening? It's easy-peasy and free (with limited commercial breaks).  1) . Go to the movie's Tubi page here . This is the link for the movie's American Tubi page, but Tubi is also available in  Canada, the UK and Australia. In your country, do a search for the title on the main Tubi page and it should be there. Alternatively, search for...

Welcome, Manor Hors, to The Roving Pecker, where we present the latest episode of "The Tales Of Peckerwood Manor" by our very own Kombitcha! Any resemblance to actual Manor Hors is intentional, except when it's not. Enjoy! TITLE: “Garden Party Pandemonium” EXT. PECKERWOOD MANOR – GARDEN – DAY The camera zooms in on Bree, who’s battling a pile of costume pieces, preparing for the fancy-dress garden party. Nearby, Raincoaster is scribbling in her notebook, pondering the mystery symbols, half-focused on the chaos around her. Kombitcha is anxiously eyeing a suspicious bag labeled “Glitter Galore.” BREE (whispering to herself) This garden party is more chaotic than a cat in a room full of laser pointers. (alarmed)  Is that glitter?!  KOMBITCHA  Glitter is the herpes of the arts and craft world. You can never get rid of it. BREE (grimacing) Let’s set up a no-glitter zone. For the love of sequins, I refuse to turn this place into a disco ball of doom. And speaking of sequins, wh...

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's is from our own beloved  Kombitcha!

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's is from Raincoaster! Enjoy.  § The "Red Market," it’s called. Like many of the darker places on the internet, it’s not really somewhere you want to end up. Not that you have much say about it by the time you get there: you’ll be dead. Yo u’ll be...inventory.  For the Red Market, you see, is the online marketplace in human remains. For art . For morbid philosophizing. For collecting. But also for birthday gifts . For decor. But most of all, for profit . This is the story of that marketplace, as told in the book These Were People Once: The Online Trade in Human Remains, and Why It Matters from Berghahn Books. "These were people, once. Now, disarticulated, robbed from their resting place, the remains were relegated to anonymous things, fragments, stripped of their humanity." Huffer and Graham, These Were People Once Damien Huffe...

There are many reasons that DeShawn is known as "The Lucky Duck." Residing at Gamahuche Lake - one of many fine tributaries abutting the Manor - he's famed for his superstitious beliefs. Yes, that clattering from the kitchen you heard last week was DeShawn, who routinely hurls and breaks dishes for good fortune. If you have flowers in your room, you already know that DeShawn will fervidly waddle forth and remove or add flowers from your vases, since there must be an even number. And I don't even need to remind you of the conniption fit he threw when Raincoaster forgot to wear polkadots to last New Years' Eve gala, as he'd ordered us all to do.  But maybe there's something to his beliefs. Most ducks live to 5 or 6 years old - 10 years, tops - but DeShawn is a hale and hearty 27. Or maybe he's just smart. Yesterday, Tiana the Tiger was aiming to feast on Confit de Canard de la DeShawn. No such luck for Tiana, since DeShawn had just eaten 12 grapes for go...