Being burned alive in front of a jeering crowd isn’t my idea of a great day out.

But that is exactly what happened to me and... this may sound crazy – it was fun.

I’d gone along to York Dungeon, one of the city’s most popular visitor attractions, which has undergone a £2 million makeover after being severely damaged by successive winter floods.

It reopened in March after a six-month closure during which owners, Dorset-based Merlin Entertainments Group, took the opportunity to remodel the fun experience with new make-up, theatrical sets and scripts.

Just entering the building, up a flight of stairs into a dark, spooky interior, is unnerving, causing my daughter Rosie and friends Arianne and Bethany, to hesitate more than once.

Once inside, visitors wait for their 70-minute tour in a putrid-smelling ‘Clifford’s Tower’ under the watchful and disconcerting eyes of a Benedictine monk, who cheered us up with tales of how the ancient walls were once “hung with blood” and how the city’s people suffered. “Your time will come”, spoke the hideous, rotten-toothed man, whose talking head was created by a special video technique.

Shortly after we were ushered into a grimy doctor’s surgery of 1551 to witness medicine in the days when the plague ravaged the bodies of thousands. “Innards turn to mush,” the ‘doctor’ told us menancingly, running through a list of gruesome symptoms before removing the infected parts of a body, threatening to spray us with the contents of a full bladder.

A ‘volunteer’, Josh from Doncaster – the only man in our group – was chosen to have his ‘bits’ pulled out. After fiddling about behind a bloodied curtain, the doctor prepared us. “It’s not a pretty sight,” she said, before pulling back the cloth to reveal a very normal-looking Josh.

The talented actors playing the parts pepper their dialogue with humour, frequently involving members of the public in scenes, guaranteeing laughs.

A visit to York Dungeon isn’t just about blood and guts – the horrific tales are based on York’s history. There’s the story of York-born Guy Fawkes, one of the gang that devised a plot to kill King James I by blowing up Parliament. They failed and, after being tortured in the Tower of London, were executed in January 1606.

In another room, the murderous Eric Bloodaxe, the last Viking king of York, describes his tortuous deeds to one of his victims – a severed head on a pole. Constructed using special effects involving the faces of real actors, these vicious characters are creepily lifelike. As Eric describes his bloodthirtsy deeds, sound effects had us ducking as knives and axes appeared to fly across the room.

A ghostly tale about a drunken hangman, told by the landlord of the Golden Fleece, sent shivers down our spines. “I’ll see thee in hell,” the actor growled.

Those playing the parts deserve praise – every one was convincing and, despite their appearance, likeable. Looking at their sallow, grubby complexions, staring deep-set eyes and ravaged hair, I found myself wondering how long it must take to get made up for work on a morning.

One of the most unsettling parts of the attraction, in which out hearts were pounding, was the lost Roman legion labyrinth – a series of dimly-lit, mirrored corridors which are impossible to negotiate. We found ourselves at a dead end on a number of occasions, until a guide came to our rescue.

Each room is linked by a series of passageways heading in all directions. The only criticism I have of the attraction is the position of the toilets, half-way along the route. You find yourself rushing so as not to hold up the tour. It would be far better to have them at the entrance, where most people expect to find them.

Josh again found himself under the spotlight as we were treated to a description of various tools of torture. “Guess what this does?” the vicious-looking torturer asked, brandishing an iron device rather like a pair of long pliers. My daughter suggested taking out teeth, and was almost right. “It’s a tongue extractor,” we were told. Smirking, she then brandished a large hook used to hang people from “the soft spot at the back of the neck.”

And another piece of equipment was used to chop off men’s private parts. Looking Josh up and down – beware if you’re the only man – the torturer swapped the large iron slicer with another, far smaller one.

Some of the humour can be a bit saucy, going (hopefully) over the heads of younger children.

In a replica courtroom – the attraction is a stone’s throw from the city’s 18th century courthouse – Josh was at first spared by the judge, while my daughter was asked to step up and answer to a crime. But he didn’t escape unscathed, being summoned to the dock. Given three choices, he opted for a seemingly cushy punishment – to visit every ale house in York. What they didn’t tell him was that he also had to clean the privvies with his tongue.

Next we sat in a pitch black – and it really was – room awaiting the fate of highwayman Dick Turpin, condemned to hang in York. I won’t describe what happens, it would ruin the surprise if you go. But I will say that we all screamed.

As I said earlier, I didn’t come out unscathed, being tied to a stake and enveloped in flame and smoke. It was harmless fun, and I wasn’t really burned to a crisp, but the whole experience does make you glad to be living in the 21st century.

Factfile

  • The York Dungeon is in Clifford Street, York.
  • It is open daily, 10am to 4.30pm, April to July, bank holidays 10am to 5.30pm. l For more information, call (01904) 632599, 08714232260 or visit thedungeons.com/york.