They sought out the strange. They investigated the inexplicable. They had one hell of a hangover. On an odyssey of oddities that would take them all to the very limits of their imagination (and inebriation), bestselling author Nick Redfern teamed up with professional monster-hunters Jonathan Downes and Richard Freeman. For six weeks in the summer of 2001, the intrepid-yet-hard-partying trio rampaged across the remote wilds of Great Britain in hot pursuit of werewolves, lake monsters, giant cats, ghostly devil dogs, and ape-men. Their adventures led them deep into ancient forests, into the dark corridors of a mansion hiding a wild man, and to the shores of the legendary Loch Ness -- along the way encountering all manner of curious characters, including witches, government agents, and eyewitnesses who claim to have seen monsters firsthand. And only at journey's end did the hard questions posed at the start of their quest begin to reveal some mind-bending answers. That monsters truly do exist in our world. And that we are responsible for their existence! Whether you're seeking a glimpse into the bizarre reaches of reality, or just looking for a good time, Three Men Seeking Monsters is a uniquely gonzo trek with a trio of adventurers who pushed themselves to the edge -- and went right over it. Picture three British "blokes"--a bald-headed punker (the author), a Goth herpetologist who dresses like a pirate, and a six-foot-six-inch, 400-pound behemoth who wears a Sherlock Holmes cap--in a recreational vehicle and six weeks off to investigate monsters, and you have grasped the essence of this one. Many books about mystery animals involve an expedition to some exotic locale, where the adventurers encounter stinging insects, infectious diseases, uncompromising terrain, and uncooperative indigenous peoples. Redfern's travelogue, however, takes place entirely in Great Britain; the lads are on a quest to find the truth about such creatures as the Man Monkey of Ranton, the Big Gray Man of Ben Macdhui, and a gryphon in Glastonbury. Despite an insatiable thirst that leads them to many pubs along the way, Redfern and his companions manage to get within chasing distance of two or three of these folkloric critters. Their explanation for what takes place is almost as bizarre as the beasts themselves, but this is a lively and entertaining crypto-zoological road trip. George Eberhart Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved "...envision...Hunter Thompson, Iggy Pop and Keith Richards joining the cast of The X-Files. ...fluidly and wittily written...." -- Dallas A.M. Journal Express Nick Redfern began his writing career in the 1980s on Zero— a British-based magazine devoted to music, fashion, and the world of entertainment. He has written numerous books, including Body Snatchers in the Desert: The Horrible Truth at the Heart of the Roswell Story, and has contributed articles to numerous publications, including the London Daily Express, Eye Spy magazine, and Military Illustrated. He lives in Dallas, Texas. Chapter One: The Monster Busters We're a happy family, we're a happy family... "We're A Happy Family," The Ramones My story begins on a hot summer weekend in 1997. Everything was good in the world. My first book was about to be released by a major British publisher and we had secured serialization for the title in a leading Sunday newspaper. I had just eaten an artery-blocking English breakfast after a beery night with Matthew Williams, then editor of the conspiracy-based journal Truthseeker's Review, and the man who would find fame in the latter part of 2000 as the first person to be arrested, charged, and convicted for making a crop circle. And in roughly two hours time I was due to deliver a lecture on the history of UFOs and the British government to the assembled throng of the curious, the mad, the paranoid, and the allegedly normal that had congregated at Sheffield University, England, for the yearly conference of the British UFO Research Association. I turned off my Walkman from which the mighty and punk-dominated sounds of the Neurotic Outsiders echoed, entered the main auditorium of the university, and looked to see who was there. Right away, among the crowd of several hundred, an assortment of stalls, booths, and a group of spotty youths in Trust No One T-shirts, I was accosted by a greasy-haired old geezer who asked me in an accusing tone: "You're one of the lecturers, aren't you?" I nodded. "You can't do a lecture in a black T-shirt, jeans, and a motorbike jacket!" he yelled. "Didn't you bring a shirt and tie?" "No, I did not. I don't wear shirts and ties," I answered quickly and firmly. I continued on my way and left the man complaining about my lack of commitment to the seriousness of the event as he accused me of being "with the government." Suddenly, I was stopped in my tracks by a veritable behemoth of a character in a badly ironed brown suit (that was covered