Eight years ago your humble correspondent found himself indulging his inner Judith Charmers in North Carolina (congratulations, or rather, commiserations if you got that rather dated reference...). Now, as much fun as the free bars and visits to Kill Devil Hills etc were on this press trip, there was one place in particular that really made an impact on me long after the sunburn died down and the hangover wore off – Roanoke Island.

Found in Dare County, the spot is infamous in American folklore and rightly so. To cut a long story short, in the late 16th century, 115 English settlers made their way to Roanoke to live and quite literally vanished off the face of the Earth without a trace (bar the message “Croatoan” carved on some trees, a mysterious word which also has ties to the deaths of Edgar Allen Poe and Amelia Earhart FYI). After being told that each year the area performs a play centred around the supposed fate of the colony (spoiler alert: it involves flesh eating aliens!), I told the tour guide that the tale would make a great TV show (only kidding about the aliens part...).

Fast forward to autumn 2016 and the sixth installment of the anthology series American Horror Story has started to air, and its theme is – yes, you’ve guessed it – Roanoke. Needless to say I have been glued to the show, not only because I’m a huge fan of the genre, but because I’m taking full credit for this year’s subject matter.

Compared to previous seasons, American Horror Story: My Roanoke Nightmare is a more restrained beast. Not nearly as thrillingly maniacal as the still peerless Asylum, or as gory and glamorous as 2015’s Hotel, this year it’s a slightly more subdued watch. While there’s still plenty of disembowelling and beheading to shock those of a nervous disposition, co-creators Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk have reigned in their wilder side and delivered a more traditional tale of horror.

The musical interludes that peppered Freak Show have been shelved (and possibly for the best, as anyone who watched the cast perform ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ will attest). The camp humour of Coven, meanwhile, has been saved for its sister show Scream Queens, which has divied some fans. At the time of writing, we’re now halfway through the season and I must admit I’ve been yearning for a little more bravery from the show-runners.

However, when My Roanoke Nightmare is good, it’s really good. Shot like one of those trashy paranormal shows, the main characters recount the events of their stay in Roanoke documentary style. We then cut to “dramatic re-enactments” featuring new actors playing those roles, which I think is a stroke of genius, and adds something fresh to the format and genre. Essentially a show within a show (keep up), Sarah Paulson and Lily Rabe – who both star as Shelby Miller – steal every scene they’re in, as we learn the story of an unwitting family who buy a house on “taken land”.

Who already owns that land, you ask? That would be the aforementioned missing people of the Roanoke colony. Led by Kathy Bates, who plays “the Butcher,” the confused and crazed ancient clan are a bit like the so-called Brexiteers in my native North, only less blood-thirsty obviously. Admittedly Bates’ Emmerdale meets Reeves And Mortimer accent is possibly more horrifying than any of the gruesome killings thus far, but five episodes in I’ve been entertained by the antics of these human sacrifice loving lunatics and I’m hungry for more.