*From The Vault* Spring-Heeled Jack’s Spree of Terror

0:00We humans love monsters we can pour our hate into. Every generation, every culture has a boogie man or two. Invented to keep teenagers from doing naughty things with each other on lovers' lanes, or to keep mischievous children in line, or to warn women to stay away from dark alleys. Usually these monster stories can be traced back to some seed of a true story. Perhaps there actually was a man with a hook for a hand who would murder kids in their cars, or perhaps there was just some unfortunate person who had lost a hand, and people made him a pariah for it. Maybe there was some awful clown who hid in children's closets. Or maybe there's an innocuous explanation for that too. The origin stories for these spooky tropes get lost over time, and their legends tend to outgrow the truth, leaving us to fill in the blanks with our deepest, darkest fears.

1:01Welcome to Strange and unexplained with me, Daisy Egan. I'm a writer and an actor who believes in the boogie man, but not the kind who hides under your bed or appears behind you if you say his name too many times in the mirror. The boogie man I believe in is the harm mere mortals can do to each other out of fear, confusion, or just plain spite. This week, we'll go back in time to visit the shape-shifting Victorian Arab boogie man that terrorized citizens from all walks of life in London for upwards of 50 years without ever directly taking a single life. This is the story of Spring Healed Jack. London in the 19th century was a real mixed bag. On the one hand, there was tremendous scientific growth with even the very term scientist being coined by English philosopher William Wewell. Huge discoveries and advancements were being made in areas like astronomy,

2:05homeopathy, physics, and medicine. Perhaps the advancements in medicine were driven by how absolutely filthy and disgusting the streets of London were at the time. The unpaved roads were laden with horse-shitten piss as well as people-shitten piss since people pretty much relieved themselves wherever they could. And even the men who cleaned out private privies left the solid excrement out in the sun to dry so they could sell it as fertilizer. Nothing like growing your tomatoes in your neighbor's poop, I always say. Actually, I never ever say. It was truly a gag-worthy time. On the other hand, as a piece from the BBC tells us, quote, there was another Victorian age running parallel with this, an age that believed in phrenology, reading fortunes via bumps on the head, and fairies, in ghosts and galvanisms, in photographs and seances. End quote. It's pretty standard that when one area of society advances,

3:08another tries to push back in the opposite direction. And so, while tales of ghosts and specters haunting the streets of London were still popular, probably because everything smelled so awful and people were dying from diseases brought on by the deplorable lack of sanitation, but they didn't understand that and thought it must all be the work of ghosts. And because scientific understanding was growing, the ghosts and goblins of Victorian era London began taking on a decidedly more to rest real bin. An article from 1884, from the Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser, claimed that a monster had begun terrorizing the good people of London and its surrounding villages in the autumn of 1837. Though these reports seem to be connected, the description of the monster varied pretty widely from village to village. It was described as a, quote, large white bull, white bear, a tired and polished steel armor, clad an armor of brass with spring shoes and large claw-like gloves,

4:12he scaled the walls, and the form of an immense baboon. End quote. The article goes on to explain that the beast first appeared in a village called Barnes as a large white bull, quote, attacking several persons, more particularly women, many of whom suffered most severely from the fright. End quote. It then appeared in the town of East Sheen as a white bear, frightening people in the streets. Next, he was spotted in Richmond, quote, renowned for maids of honor, and in the course of a few days, all Richmond was aghast at the tails of women being frightened to death and of children being torn to pieces by him. End quote. Maids of honor, in case you're wondering, which I certainly was when I came across that phrase, apparently refers to a tart of puff pastry and sweetened milk curds, and not your college roommates, who you've lost touch with in the last few years, but still feel obligated to put in the bridal party. The story goes that King Henry VIII saw one of his wives maids,

5:15who were called maids of honor, I guess because they had the honor of being a maid to the queen, eating one of these tarts and demanded to taste one. He loved the tarts so much, he named them after his wives maids. Of course, you and I both know that likely when he demanded to taste one, he wasn't talking about the pastry, but the woman eating the pastry. Anyway, by the time he got to Hampton, he was, quote, clad in armor of brass with spring shoes and large claw-like gloves, end quote, which I guess means he had taken the form of a man by then. The people of Hampton, however, were not having it, and they chased him away. He allegedly scaled the walls of a park and vanished into it. Now, before we get any further, can we talk about these eponymous spring-heeled boots? The first mention I could find of his iconic footwear was from the morning Chronicle in 1838, which described him with spring shoes,

6:15and later there's a more detailed account from Peckham Times in 1872 about his, quote, spring-heeled or India rubber-sold boots, end quote. And really, nearly all the accounts of his attacks make mention of his red spring-heeled boots. Were spring-heeled boots common fashion of the time? No, not at all. Are spring-heeled boots even practical? No, not really. In reality, any wearer of such spring shoes might experience significant problems of control, not to mention two broken ankles. As far as I can tell, the likely fictitious idea of his spring-heeled boots was born from the stories that claimed they were what gave him the ability to jump over high walls and houses during his attacks, like some sort of 19th century English Marty McFly with his crazy Nike's. But we just don't know for certain. Anyway, as he traveled through the towns in his silly little shoes, rumors of the injuries he inflicted spread,

7:16and people were, understandably, really fucking scared. In the town of Islesworth, a carpenter was allegedly beaten mercilessly by a ghostly figure wearing polished steel armor and red shoes. As he made his way closer to London, the monster left a wake of terror and a reputation as a snappy dresser wherever he went. He scared a blacksmith so badly that blacksmith had to take to his bed from shock. But in the town of Hammersmith, the monster found the tables turned when he met a laundry woman who was not here for his shit. According to the Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser, the monster, quote, appeared in the form of an immense baboon six feet high with enormous eyes and arms of an extensive length, and, in strict keeping with his animal appearance, grunted like a hyena. This courageous woman, after an ineffectual attempt to avoid her uncanny visitor, determined to give him battle and fluid him with such fury that he was glad to

8:21give up the contest. And, quote, leave it to a working woman to put an end to the nonsense. Also, the creature was an immense baboon who, in strict keeping with his animal appearance, grunted like a hyena? Say what? First of all, let's calm down with the mixed animal metaphors, but also everyone knows hyenas don't grunt. They laugh. Others reported that a man dressed in bare skin wearing spring shoes was jumping too and fro in front of people on the street, apparently greatly alarming women. At this point, the monster was given a name, steel jack. There are several more stories of people encountering steel jack, most of which aren't actually backed up by any historical source and which have most likely been embellished over time. But, these include repeated tales of him leaping over walls in a single bound. And in one story, the figure, quote, jumped out at a coach, causing it to crash. Several witnesses saw the figure escape

9:26the scene by bounding over a nine-foot high wall. It's high-pitched laughter, disappearing into the distance. End quote. I personally love this story. There are a few things funnier than a bad guy running or in this case jumping away, laughing maniacally at the top of his register. But the people being harassed by this thing were not amused in the slightest. Everyone in the town surrounding London were in a panic. The legend of Springfield Jack, Victorian urban folklore and popular cultures, a young man ran into a local police station breathlessly reporting that he'd seen a ghost. And when the officers went to the place he said he'd seen it, all they found was the inspector sitting on a white horse completely unaware of the report. Apparently, he was the ghost the young man saw. Another ghost turned out to just be a cow.

10:28After a couple months of hysterical citizens in the town surrounding London, insisting they were being terrorized by a bear, a bull, a huge baboon that grunted like a hyena, and or a human figure wearing armor, claws, and springs in their shoes, the local papers began to run stories about it, which of course just whipped up more of a frenzy. And then on January 8th of 1838, Sir John Cohen, Lord Mayor of London held a press conference to read a letter he'd received. It read, and I will translate because it's written in needlessly complicated yee all the English, to the right honorable the Lord Mayor. My Lord, the right of assumes that your Lordship will kindly overlook the liberty he has taken in addressing a few lines on the subject, which within the last few weeks has caused much alarming sensation in the neighbouring villages within three

11:29and four miles of London. In other words, sorry to bother you, but this shit is important. It appears that some individuals in as derite believes the higher ranks of life. aka rich people have laid away with a mischievous and foolhardy companion named as yet unknown, that he does not take upon himself the task of visiting many of the villages near London, in the three different disguises of a ghost, a bear, and a devil, and moreover that he will not dare to enter gentlemen's gardens for the purpose of alarming the inmates of the house. Some dudes bet that one of the dudes in their dude group didn't have an in-em to dress up and scare people, so they triple-dog dared him. The wager has, however, been accepted, and the unmanly villain has succeeded in depriving seven ladies of their senses. At one hour, she rang the bell, and on the

12:31servant come an open adore, this worse than brute stood, and in a no less dreadful figure than a specter, clad most perfectly. The consequence was that the poor girl immediately swooned, and has never from that moment been in her senses, but on seeing any man screams out most violently, take him away! The dude took the wager and proceeded to go around scaring the shit out of people. He scared one woman so bad she now screams whenever she sees any dude. There are two ladies, which your lordship will regret to hear, who have husbands and children, and who are not expected to recover, but likely to become burdens upon their families. For fear that your lordship might imagine that the writer exaggerates, he will refrain from mentioning other cases. If anything more melancholy than those, he is already related. He's fucked up a couple of other women so bad now they're useless to their husbands and

13:34children, and of course being burdens they will likely now be sent to an asylum to rot and wither. I know this sounds ridiculous so I won't even bother to go into the other banana stories about this Joker. He's basically the Victorian QAnon Shaman. The affair has now been going on for some time and strange to say the papers are still silent on the subject. The writer is very unwilling to be unjust toward any man, but he has reason to believe that they have the whole history of their fingers ends, but through interested motives are induced to remain silent. Listen man, I don't mean to point fingers, but I know who this guy is and I'm pretty sure he won't confess. It is however high time that such a detestable nuisance be put to a stop, and the writer feels assured that your lordship as the chief magistrate of London will take great pleasure in exerting your power to bring the villain to justice. Please fucking do something about this.

14:37Hoping your lordship will pardon the liberty I've taken in writing, I am your lordship's most ambly servant. Again, sorry for bothering you. A resident of Peckham. The press of course lapped the story up and suddenly the London papers were covering this story even though as lord mayor Cohen had pointed out the scoundrel hadn't yet set foot in London, which was why he couldn't do anything about it. Oddly though, Cohen didn't take the letter very seriously because he believed it had been written by a woman who'd simply been scared by something in the dark. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through just because you had a jump scare one night. Also, if he didn't take it seriously, one wonders why he bothered to gather a press conference about it and read it to reporters. Like what did you think was going to happen bro? As Bell puts it in his book Springheel Jack, quote, if Cohen's announcement had been intended to expose the rumors to the ridicule of the press

15:41readership, it singularly backfired. Granted, a degree of validity even respectability by the mayor's attention to the matter and further enhanced by the authority of the printed medium, the reporting of the announcement opened the floodgates to a torrent of written correspondence from across the capital, each testifying to the activities of what was at this stage still being called the suburban ghost. End quote. I mean, duh. Sometime between January 14th and 20th, the press began referring to the perpetrator as Springheel Jack, though no one knows exactly who came up with the nickname. The general consensus was that whoever was going around terrorizing people was most likely some board-rich kids betting whether they could scare people, but no one could find verifiable sources or eyewitnesses. By January of 1838, a committee had formed to hunt down this whatever it was and put an end to the shenanigans. According to an

16:43article in the Sun from January 20th, 1838, the committee had believed Springheel Jack was likely a band of quote, rascals connected with high families and that bets to the amount of 5,000 pounds at stake upon the success or failure of the abominable proceedings. End quote. But the article also claimed, apparently without any proof, that the goal of the bet was to, quote, destroy the lives of not less than 30 human beings. End quote. The mayor and the press may not have been taking the reports of Springheel Jack very seriously, but they would soon see just what horrors Springheel Jack was capable of. On Wednesday, February 21st of 1838, Jane Allsop, an 18-year-old who was described by the London Morning Chronicle as the daughter of, quote, a gentleman of considerable property, end quote, came into the police station with her father and two of her sisters to file a

17:43report. The night before, she said, there was an insistent and violent ringing at the front gate of their home. When she opened the front door, she could see a man standing in the darkness at her gate. She asked him what the matter was and he said, for God's sake, bring me a light, but we have caught Springheel Jack here in the lane. She brought the man a candle and saw that he was wearing a long cloak. She thought he was a policeman, but no sooner had she determined that, as the morning chronicle described, quote, he threw off his outer garment and applying the lighted candle to his breast, presented a most hideous and frightful appearance and vomited forth a quantity of blue and white flames from his mouth and his eyes resembled red balls of fire, end quote. He wore a helmet and an outfit that she described as looking like oil skin. The chronicle continued, quote, without uttering a sentence he darted at her and catching her partly by her dress and the back of her neck, placed her head under one of his arms and commenced tearing her gown with his claws, which she was

18:47certain were of some metallic substance. She screamed out as loud as she could for assistance and by considerable exertion got away from him and ran towards the house to get in. Her assailant, however, followed her and caught her on the steps leading to the half door. When he again used considerable violence, tore her neck and arms with his claws as well as a quantity of hair from her head, but she was at length rescued from his grasp by one of her sisters, end quote. Jane said she spent the entire night in shock and considerable pain from the wounds the man had inflicted on her. Her father was sure there was more than one attacker because someone had removed the cloak from the ground once the man had cast it off. Mr. Alsup offered 10 guineas to anyone who could capture the assailant, which I couldn't really calculate in today money because the internet doesn't seem to know how to translate guineas and math is hard and it doesn't really matter. Suffice to say,

19:48I think it was a hefty chunk of change. Now that there was an actual person with actual wounds, police set up and took notice. They took so much notice in fact that not one but two separate divisions of the police conducted investigations. The investigations, however, didn't produce much beyond the assumption that Jane, in her fright, mistook a regular drunken frolic for a monster and, quote, not the act of the individual who was stated to have made his appearance in different outlets of the metropolis in so many different shapes. End quote. Which is all well and good, but whether it was a monster or an individual, someone caused bodily harm to Jane and the police search came up goose eggs. Five days after Jane was assaulted at the gate of her own home, a young servant boy answered a knock at the door whereupon he was greeted by a figure who threw off his cloak. And according to a 1996 paper called Springhealed Jack to Victorian Bugaboo from suburban ghost by

20:50author Mike Dash, quote, presented a most hideous appearance. End quote. Apparently the boy screamed so loud the assailant ran off. And just three days after that attack, a young woman named Lucy Scales was walking home at night with her sister when as the morning chronicle reported, she was confronted by a figure, quote, who was enveloped in a large cloak. He spurred a quantity of blue flame right in her face, which deprived her of her sight and so alarmed her that she instantly dropped to the ground and was seized with violent fits, which continued for several hours. End quote. People in Victorian times were very expressive. Lucy's sister claimed the man had been carrying a small lamp which she held up before spouting flames from his mouth. Police were quick to point out that the flames could have been produced by blowing a flammable substance through a straw at the flame of the lamp and were probably not the result of a fire breathing monster. But the police,

21:52what with their cool headed facts, were a poor match against the popular penny dreadfuls of the day, which were basically the Victorian version of the National Inquirer, printing lured tales of crime and horror. At the hands of the imaginative writers of the penny dreadfuls, basically writing the equivalent of clickbait pieces, Springheel Jack became a kind of super villain who could leap over entire buildings, sometimes fly with glowing red eyes and the ability to breathe blue flames. And most likely because of the popularity of the penny dreadfuls, a bunch of copycat attacks spring up all over London in 1838. The most common target of these copycat assaults were women. One man walked into a pub and told the landlady he was Springheel Jack and swung a club at her. Fortunately, he missed. Around the same time, another woman was grabbed on the street by a cloaked figure and slapped in the face. And in nearby Islington, a blacksmith was arrested and

22:54sentenced to three months' hard labor after assaulting several women, which, of course, may or may not have had a single thing to do with Springheel Jack at all. Several men were arrested for wearing long cloaks and running around scaring the shit out of regular people. And then, just as the copycat attacked seemed to be dying down, according to author Mike Dash, quote, a woman was assaulted on the cliff tops at South End by a gentleman who threw her to the ground, tore at her clothes and stuffed grass in her mouth. End quote. As for the hunt for the real Springheel Jack war on, tragically, in 1845, an old man, probably suffering about a dementia, was wandering the streets in his nightgown when people decided he was Springheel Jack and beat him so badly he died a few days later. Perhaps the legend of Springheel Jack might have fizzled out if it hadn't continued to be used as fodder for cheap entertainment or as an easy boogie man to attach to random unsolved crimes.

23:59Jack's infamy began to spread beyond local tabloids and made its way to the legitimate stage. In the 1840 play Springheel Jack, the Terror of London, Jack was now a jilted lover who was so wounded by his spurned love that he attacked the women of London as revenge. So remember, ladies, if you don't accept a man's love, he may go on a spree of terror and that blood will be on your hands. In another play titled The Curse of the Ray Dons, which sounds like a bad B movie from the 1950s, Jack was a spy for Napoleon who attacked women as a cover because everyone knows the best cover for a spy is to draw tons of attention to yourself. But then in the 1870s author George Asala wrote a series of stories that turned Jack into a kind of Robin Hood figure, somehow protecting the weak and innocent with the help of his Springheeled shoes. And when it was published, it seems,

25:00just as his story had been resurrected by Asala, another series of Springheel Jack attacks popped up. Weird coincidence, right? This time the attacks were made at several army bases where centuries repeatedly tried to shoot the figure and thankfully missed every time. According to Mike Dash, in one such attack, Jack slapped a century in the face several times before leaping off, wrestling with another soldier giving him two black eyes and escaping apprehension by outrunning those chasing him. Springheel Jack then took a 27-year break, but according to a piece in the Liverpool Daily Post from 1967, quote, in September 1904, the springing terror made his last appearance. This time in William Henry Street, when hundreds of local folk watched in awe as the pathetic creature leaped up and down the length of the Everton Street. After more than 10 minutes of leaps, which would embarrass present day Olympic high jumpers and polevolters too, he was seen to

26:06jump clean over the terrace houses from Stitt Street to High Street and then hop back across the slate roofs to Salisbury Street, after which he was never seen again. So who was this mysterious cloaked figure with springs and issues and the ability to breathe blue fire? The theory that it was a group of wealthy dudes with a bet was a popular one among the members of the working class. But as time went on, one particular aristocrats name came to the forefront. Henry Dillapur, Beresford, otherwise known as the Marquis of Waterford. Beresford had earned the nickname the Mad Marquis for his exploits as a drunken hooligan who was the inspiration behind the term paint the town red. The story goes that he, along with a small entourage of equally shitty dudes, basically overtook and terrorized the Croxton races in 1837, holding down village officials and

27:08covering them with red paint. And then they went around painting whatever else they could find. Every police officer who tried to stop them was similarly treated. Apparently the next day Beresford woke up and in a Victorian era version of the hangover had to piece the events of the previous day together and was so mortified by his behavior he offered to pay for the damages. He and his buddies were each charged a hundred pounds or eight thousand pounds in today money. And while you can argue that Beresford was definitely acting like the Logan Paul of his day, defacing buildings and showering people with paint and beating up police officers was definitely not what Springheel Jack was known for. So how did Beresford manage to find himself at the top of the list of unofficial suspects? Why he was in London around the time of the attacks and left in 1842 at which point the attacks seemed to have stopped. And we all know that being in a city where crimes

28:08are happening makes you an automatic suspect, instead crimes. In 1889 a British lexicographer, which is a fancy word for a person who writes dictionaries, named Ebenezer Cobham Brewer, actual name, published a book titled The Reader's Handbook of Famous Names in fiction, illusions, references, proverbs, plots, stories and poems, in which he claimed Beresford was the first Springheel Jack, followed by a string of copycats because he said without any evidence or citing any source, quote, the Marquis of Waterford in the early parts of the 19th century used to amuse himself by springing on travelers unawares to terrify them. End quote. However, in a 2011 article for the publication History Today called An Aristocratic Specter, a series of violent attacks by pale shrouded figures on lone pedestrians, especially women, was widely reported in the early

29:1119th century. Jacob Middleton uncovers the sham ghosts of Georgian London, end quote, which is like way to spoil your own article, bro. And just to be clear, these attacks took place in the Victorian era, not the Georgian era, but whatevs. Anyway, in that article Middleton makes a great argument for why Springheel Jack was believed to be an aristocrat pulling pranks. Middleton argues that the rumors that Springheel Jack was basically a 19th century punked era-ashton culture came from the social tensions in England at the time. So-called radicals were pushing for a more democratic government, taking power away from the wealthy classes, while the wealthy classes were pushing back to maintain their power. See, today in the US for a contemporary reference. It's funny how the people fighting to simply be able to survive are always labeled radicals. Isn't it? Anyway, Middleton writes that first of

30:12all, as far as working class people were concerned, only someone with a lot of free time on their hands would have been bored enough to pull these kinds of stunts off. They'd also have the expendable income necessary to create whatever costumes they wore while pulling off said stunts. Not only that, but only a member of the Upper Crust would be able to successfully evade prosecution by virtue of their money and status. See Alex Murdoff for a contemporary reference. Middleton ends his article with this. Quote, these ghosts, which were powerful and aggressive and against which ordinary people were helpless, were the perfect metaphor for how common people saw the ruling classes of Britain. End quote. But not everyone had gotten on the logic train, probably fueled by early accounts of the attacks in which the assailant was referred to as a ghost. Some did believe that Springheel Jack was indeed a ghost. The adherence to this theory would

31:14point to accounts that Jack could do extraordinary things like leap over buildings in one jump or spit fire. If he wasn't a ghost, they would argue he was either a man and armor, which is somewhat confusing because a man and armor could easily be a bored wealthy guy, an actual bear, or he was, the devil himself. Though one wonders why the most malevolent being in the universe would resort to these mostly harmless pranks when he could literally wipe out whole towns with the snap of his fingers if he wanted to. Still others believed Springheel Jack to be an extra terrestrial being. In 1964, British actor and radio host Valentin Dyle, actual name, wrote an article for Everybody's Magazine in which he posed this question. Quote, Today we are still without a likely answer to the question, who or what was the fabulous ubiquitous creature that terrorized a huge section of the British public for nearly 60 years. One thing is

32:18certain, he was no ordinary mortal. It is significant that a high proportion of those who saw him were convinced that he was not of this world, but either a spirit or a visitor from some distant planet. It is pointless to scoff at this theory unless we can produce a sound natural one to take its place. End quote. Listen, just because a high proportion of people were convinced Jack wasn't human doesn't mean that was true. A high proportion of people also think guns make everyone safer, apparently, or at least a high proportion of politicians who have been bought by the NRA. Anyway, Seven years after this article was printed, a writer going by the name of Jay Viner wrote another article for Flying Saucer Review which author Mike Dash credits with helping to wildly exaggerate the story of Springheel Jack over the years. Dash wrote quote, the author's inaccurate summary of Jack's appearance and abilities has influenced almost every subsequent writer on the

33:23subject, either directly or as a result of the incorporation of the description into later books. End quote. In the end, it's most likely that the legend of Springheel Jack was just that, an urban legend that reflected the economic status of whoever was telling the story. To the lower class and less educated citizens, Jack was a ghost or some supernatural monster. While to the more metropolitan set, he was a wealthy dude with too much time on his hands and a wager against his mates that he couldn't scare ordinary folk. Parents began to use Jack as a kind of boogie man to keep their children in line because nothing says good parenting more than scaring your child senseless. Priests used Jack to warn against the evils of alcohol and the media used Jack to attribute any unsolved crime to. What might have been a harmless prank seemed to morph into

34:24something that truly struck terror into the people of London and its surrounding towns. Unfortunately, just as Springheel Jack had wrapped up his shenanigans, another very real Jack was poised to inflict an even worse terror on the people of London. After Springheel Jack's reign, it was as if London was faced with the question, want to see something really scary? As if Springheel Jack was just the rehearsal for the real deal, one with a flashing knife that ripped away the lives of half a dozen women, sealing his place in the hall of horrors and reminding us that a simple man can be a real monster all on his own. Next time on Strange and Unexplained, the oldest mountain range on earth, with the oldest official hiking trail on earth, holds some of the most beautiful wonders nature has to offer,

35:25but beware, because darkness and death lurk on the Appalachian Trail. Strange and Unexplained is a production of the Obsessed Network. This episode was produced by Natalie Grillo and Angela Paladino, written by me Daisy Egan with research by Jess McKillip, editing by Eve Carrigan and sound engineering and mixing by Jennifer Swattak. We have a lot of fascinating and bizarre stories to share with you this season, but we want to hear your episode suggestions as well. If you have something you'd like us to cover, whether it's a well-known case or something that happened in your town that the world hasn't heard about yet, go to our website strangeandunexplainedpod.com and fill out the contact form. If you like our show, please help us out by rating and reviewing us on Apple Podcasts. If you don't like our show, feel free to leave a terrible review at Apple Podcast slash Church of Scientology. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter, we are at SNUPod and check out the strange and unexplained Facebook group to join in the conversation.