Haunted pubs

Haunch of Venison, Wiltshire

Have a bevvy with the Grey Lady and a one-handed Demented Whist Player who was attacked after cheating in a card game. Held up by enormous, age-old oak beams thought to come from early sailing vessels, the inn dates back to around 1320 when the building housed craftsmen working on Salisbury Cathedral’s spire. But what makes this pub really eerie are the mummified remains of the Player’s hand, which you can gawp at while tucking into a pack of dry roasted.

The White Hart, Kent

You’ll definitely need a stiff drink after exploring this watering hole. The pub was built in the 1800s on the ruins of St Mary's church. The small park it sits next to was once a graveyard and you can still see the faded tombstones leaning against a wall, along with few loitering ghosts. And if that wasn’t enough to get you quivering with fear and spilling your beer all over the place, the mortuary, which now houses the beer barrels in the cellar, still has a body chute.

The Lord Crewe Arms Hotel, County Durham

Nestled in one of England’s six ancient listed villages, The Lord Crewe Arms with its aged stone-flagged floors is said to be the hangout of the ghost of Dorothy Forster, sister to Tom Forster, who plotted the 1715 Jacobite Rebellion. Grab a hot drink and perch next to giant fireplace in the Hilyard room, once used for smoking and curing meat; take a peek inside the chimney and you’ll see a hiding hole used by catholic priests.

The Hatchet Inn, Bristol

The Hatchet Inn dates back to 1606 and is a now a grade II-listed building. But we’re not fussed about that; the real draw of this pub is its creepy door. Local legend has it that the front door of pub, beneath the paint and tar, is covered with human skin and as you’d expect, full of ghouls and nowadays, tattooed Goths. Once an old inn for rural folk, it’s now one of Bristol’s leading rock and alternative venues.

The Well House, Devon

Pop by for a pint and a peek at the collection bones on display in this tavern’s basement cellar. Rumour has it they belong to John the monk and Martha the nun, who threw themselves down the well in a union of death – how romantic! Apparently, lights turn on by themselves, burglar alarms go off for no reason, black-gowned women drift around and strong perfumes waft through the air.