I don’t believe in ghosts. I’ve never seen one; never seen anything remotely supernatural. To be honest, I don’t really believe anyone else when they tell me they’ve seen something. But, BOY, do I love to hear it. There’s nothing I love more than a good ghost story. Because I so badly want to believe.

I have a recurring dream where I’m in a spooky place – possibly Hampton Court Palace – and see a classic ghost; some sort of grey lady. Obviously, I’m terrified, frightened out of my wits, but underneath it all is this bubbling elation – yes, yes! They’re real, they do exist, it can happen, the world order turned on its head, changing everything. In the dream, I’m backing away in terror, simultaneously punching the air in triumph. Because I really, really want there to be something out there.

And so, we come to Uncanny, Danny Robins’ cult hit, now transferring to the small screen. The format of the podcast is simple and… well, canny: in each episode, Danny – another sceptic who wants to be proved wrong - interviews a witness who feels they’ve had a paranormal experience. Their story is punctuated by commentary from two experts – in the Scully/Mulder dynamic, one a cynic, one a believer – then the audience is invited to become armchair supernatural sleuths, and offer our take on the investigation. Do we buy it, or not?

I’m a massive fan of the show, and tend to listen in a netherworld, hovering between amusement and unease. A notorious episode featuring a haunted student room resulted in one of Uncanny’s most popular catchphrases, the host’s incredulous ‘Bloody hell, Ken!’ illustrating the delicate balance of the show. Is it funny, or is it scary? Of course, the beauty of it is, it’s both. When I found out that Uncanny was being made for BBC Two, I was delighted but apprehensive. Danny has created a quirky, nuanced, and particular (other) world – would it translate? And would it push me any further into the Believer camp?

The good news is that the production honours its origins whilst adding televisual gloss and gravitas. Episode 1 is called ‘Miss Howard’, and the story is told by Kate. Almost all of Uncanny’s witnesses are introduced in the same way: they don’t believe in ghosts, but… The producers are at pains to assure you that this straitlaced chartered accountant/legal secretary/pillar of the community isn’t a nutjob. They need to establish some credibility, or we’d be off on the wrong foot. So, it’s unlikely we’d see guests with dream-catcher earrings or pagan t-shirts - they’re presented as ordinary, normal, believable. Kate is in the usual mould, offering her truth in a reflective yet matter-of-fact way, threaded with a hint of apology. She’s only told five people her story before. Their reactions were not encouraging. She got used to keeping it under wraps. But what a story it is…

Kate and Danny are in some sort of vintage recording studio; a disused air, dimly-lit to provide atmosphere. Occasionally, we move to a nearby pub to get contributions from the experts – podcast regulars Evelyn Hollow and Ciaran O’Keefe. The gloriously gothic Evelyn is our believer, and with her extraordinary speaking voice - rich, resonant, Scottish – she’s a compelling presence. You would not mess. Ciaran is more unassuming, also with a note of contrition - the voice of reason who knows he’s the buzz-killer. The wider investigation takes in a local historian (bizarrely called Miss Howard, even though she’s unrelated to the Miss Howard they’re researching) and a tangential foray into the urban legend of Liverpool’s Bold Street time slip.

It must be really hard to find substantial cases to feature in the show. Yes, hard because ghosts-don’t-exist-this-is-all-nonsense, you bunch of naysayers. Open your minds! What I mean is, the stories have to build, and yield, and spiral. You need an unsettling set-up, followed by initial glimpses, then a proper encounter, and then an escalation. And it has to withstand a bit of investigation as well – a fact or anecdote backed up by historical records, for example. Some flesh on those bones. Ectoplasm on the phantom. You need ghosts with the most.

Well, ‘Miss Howard’ has it all in grave shovels. I’m under strict instructions not to give away any spoilers – the BBC commissioner has actual blackmailable files on me which I’m sure he would release were I to breach this agreement – so I can’t say too much except that this ghost story delivers everything you could hope for, and more. It’s proper Spooky-Doos.

Danny is a TV (super)natural – genial, engaging, with an intimate, confiding tone to camera, his red mac and luxuriant head of hair destined to become iconic symbols of the show. He’s also managed to carry over that quality I so enjoy in the podcast – a fine balance of humour and horror. If you didn’t see the funny side, it would all become po-faced, but the lightness of touch makes the occasional descent into darkness all the more pronounced and powerful. In almost every episode of Uncanny, there’s a point where I’ve felt the ‘prickle’ – hairs on the back of the neck - at some detail or revelation. In ‘Miss Howard’, it’s when they discover [WHITE NOISE]. And then [MORE WHITE NOISE]!

Sorry, I was almost in violation of my spoiler agreement there. Suffice it to say, it’s a corker of a prickle. A full-on nape-follicle attack. I was backing away in terror, simultaneously punching the air…

But did I believe, in the end? Am I ready to embrace the notion of the afterlife? Well, not quite. Because I suspect that true belief is personal, and until it happens to me, I’m unlikely to be convinced. However, hearing these tall tales keeps me open to the possibility. In the screening I went to, Danny spoke about the importance of allowing everyone to share their stories. Kate was reluctant to tell hers because she was afraid of the response - sometimes real people can be scarier than any spook.

So, I don’t know if I believe her or not, but at least she was given the space to speak, and be listened to. And while her story was questioned, challenged and investigated, it was always done so respectfully, by people prepared to embrace the ‘maybes’ and ‘I don’t knows’ of debate. That’s what I liked about Uncanny the TV show: its gentle ambiguity. It left me in that state of uncertainty, and sometimes it does us good to be less sure of ourselves.

Uncanny has none of the bells & whistles of other paranormal shows. There are no night vision cameras or EMF meters. No EVP recorders or Spirit Boxes. The dramatic reconstruction is effective but minimal. It’s just sensitive, sympathetic, low-key storytelling by the fire. It’s Jackanory for grownups.

What more could we ask for but to tell our stories, and have people listen?

• Uncanny – 3 episodes, BBC Two, 9pm, starting Friday 13th October 👻