Fear factor on the farm

‘ZOMBIES, GHOULS, morticians and mutants required,” says the press release. No experience needed, but ability to scare the living daylights out of people an advantage.

Times may be tough, but one small farm in Co Meath is providing 50 temporary jobs this Halloween. There’s only one catch: your workmates will be the undead. You don’t need half your face rotted away to work here, though – you’ll be provided with all the make-up and prosthetics you’ll need to look the (body) part.

Welcome to Farmaphobia, the annual scarepark in Fordstown, Co Meath that is home to a host of scary creatures, eerie apparitions and terrifying manifestations.

Scareparks have become popular Halloween attractions over the past few years, as people look for something a bit more in-your-face than bobbing for apples or standing around a bonfire. The idea is fiendishly simple: visitors negotiate a labyrinth of morgues, graveyards and gloomy buildings, passing through dark corridors, dank dungeons and musty cellars filled with the screams of tortured souls.

I’m at Causey Farm, owned by the Murtagh family, to audition for Farmaphobia, one of Ireland’s most popular scareparks, just a few miles from Athboy in Co Meath. The job description is simple enough – be scary – but, says Deirdre Murtagh, who runs events at the farm, it also requires imagination and a little bit of showmanship to be convincing.

Helping Murtagh bring Farmaphobia to life (or should that be death) is the event’s coordinator, Altaf Majeed from Glasgow. “The more menacing it is, the better it is for everyone,” he says.

There are eight horror hopefuls waiting in a dimly lit old storehouse – all boys aged between 15 and 19. I can see I’ve got the immediate advantage here – my craggy journo features should easily trump these fresh young faces in the scare department.

The audition is in two parts. First, prospective inmates must do a zombie walk. But Majeed is looking for more than just a Michael Jackson impersonation. “Use whatever you find around as a prop – improvise,” he suggests. I notice a number of bodhráns stacked around the room (the farm also runs a bodhrán workshop for kids, among other events), so when it comes to my turn, I grab one and thump it doomily as I lunge forward – I call it “Scary Sean Nós”. Although, to be honest, Shane MacGowan lurching up to the bar in Kehoes would be a lot scarier.

For the second part of the audition, the boys are divided into groups of two and three, and brought into what looks like Morticia Addams’s boudoir. They have one minute to conceal themselves around the room, then Deirdre and Altaf will walk through, and the boys will attempt to scare them.

I feel quietly confident – I do this sort of thing every bedtime with my two kids. But it’s one thing to scare your two- and five-year-old – now I have to frighten two adults who know all the tricks of the scare trade. Somehow, I don’t think “boo!” will cut it.

I squeeze into the small space behind the wardrobe – this time, the wardrobe will be my big, scary bodhrán. I bang hard with both fists. No screams. I step out from behind the wardrobe. Suddenly, a wild-eyed zombie appears in the doorway and heads straight for Murtagh, who lets out a scream. I’ve just been out-spooked by a 16-year-old. I’ll never live (or die) this down.

“You added effect,” offers Majeed kindly. I’ve failed the audition. Never mind – even without an Irish Times journalist lurking in the shadows, Farmaphobia should scare the bejaysus out of you.

Farmaphobia runs until Wednesday, October 31st. Adults and children over 13. After 8pm, over-16s only. Farmaphobia.com