Who’s scared of Black Annis, the gnarly, child-flaying crone? Or Black Shuck, the Devil’s flaming-eyed dog? Not David Clarke. But, as a boy, one figure was guaranteed to keep him trembling beneath the bed sheets: an infamous Victorian villain known to all as Spring-heel’d Jack. 
 
And little wonder. Nicknamed the Terror of London, this ghoulish, claw-fingered fiend – who was said to breathe blue fire and dress like a deranged Batman – would comb the night streets in search of innocent victims for his blood-curdling pranks.  
 
“He was supposed to be an aristocrat in London who had taken a wager to scare a certain number of people to death,” Clarke explains. “Then, in the 1830s and 40s, Spring-heel’d Jacks started appearing in different towns, like Newcastle and Sheffield.”

It was the Sheffield version who Clarke’s grandparents – a working-class couple from the same Midlands city, he a steelworker, she a baker – would tell him about as a small boy. That and plenty of other tall tales besides: stories of magic monsters and bewitched woods, of cursed criminals and haunted houses.  
 
These accounts, passed down from one generation to the next, sparked in Clarke a lifelong fascination with folkloric tradition. It’s one that saw him through a doctorate (on the cultic cult of the severed human head), through a stint as a local journalist (“I was always writing about ghost stories and secret tunnels”), and eventually to his current role as associate professor at Sheffield Hallam University, which is home to his co-creation, the Centre for Contemporary Legend.   
 
“People get a wrong idea about folklore. They think that it’s something stuck in the past, unchanging and fixed. But that’s as far as possible from the actual facts. Because folklore is contemporary. It’s here. It’s constantly evolving,” Clarke observes.

The facts, indeed, suggest he’s right. From growing participation in ‘calendar customs’ like Halloween and Hogmanay, to the emergence of novel religious movements like Wicca (“a syncretic, earth-centred”) and neopaganism, the British public appears to have a growing taste for the mythical and mysterious.  
 
By way of anecdote, Clarke recalls stepping into a high street bookshop not so long ago and seeing books on folklore in cooking (a slice of gingery ‘tharf’ cake on Guy Fawkes night, anyone?), queer mythology, and “a whole bunch of National Trust books” on landmarks and legends.  
 
And it’s not just the public either. Clarke is part of a small group of folklore-loving researchers to receive a £271,000 grant from UK Research and Innovation, a government-backed body. The funding will help finance a nationwide survey of modern folklore throughout England.  

People think folklore is stuck in the past, unchanging and fixed. But folklore is contemporary. It’s here. It’s constantly evolving

Citizens will have an opportunity to feed their favourite stories and traditions into the National Folklore Survey when it goes live in 2026, more than six decades on from its last iteration.   
 
Why the sudden spike in interest? Popular culture plays a part, Clarke concedes. He points in particular to the recent BBC series, Myth Country, starring actor and writer Charlie Cooper, which he credits for helping shed new light on to old traditions.  
 
But there’s something more profound at work, he insists, namely, the search for “enchantment”. As humans, our brains are built for wonder. Yet, in today’s increasingly secular, rationally ordered, Web-connected world, the opportunities to be lost in awe and amazement are slowly shrinking.  

“We get all these benefits from new technology, but I think it also takes away from a feeling of connection with the planet around us. In my experience, people who are interested in folklore also seem to benefit from a re-enchantment of the landscape,” Clarke reflects.  
 
The opportunity to reconnect with one another shouldn’t be underplayed either, he adds. It’s winter; the nights are drawing in. What do people love doing at this time of year? To sit around the fire and telling stories to one another. Or to dress up and join in with friends for a New Year’s Eve party.  
 
“Whatever someone’s background, whatever their age, whatever their beliefs, it doesn’t matter – folklore brings people together,” he notes. “Whether it’s parading through a town centre dressed as the Green Man, lighting bonfires on 5 November or visiting a stone circle at Midwinter, it doesn’t matter.”
 
Fun as such folkloric events certainly are, just be mindful after dark … For no-one loves the witching hour more than spooky Spring-heel’d Jack.

Photography: India Hudson