Funny handshakes, satanic rituals and dodgy back-scratching – they’re the things that usually spring to mind at the mention of the freemasons.

The group – which remains shrouded in myth, mystery and conspiracy – has been charged on internet forums with a range of dodgy dealings, including attempts to take over the world.

It, too, has become synonymous with power, for it’s regularly depicted in popular culture as a society in which its old, wealthy members dole out favours.

But inside one Kent masonic temple – a room bedecked in blues, golds and reds – its members bristle when they hear such conjecture.

“We don’t assault each other – that’s not brotherly, is it? And there’s no goats, there’s no chickens, there’s no bloodletting or anything like that,” says Margate's Union Lodge secretary Steve Wyatt.

“There are all these false stories with freemasonry. It’s all silly rumour. TV and people’s misconceived ideas have created these myths.”

At one end of the hall sits a raised, throne-like chair, akin to those in Stanley Kubrick’s erotic thriller Eyes Wide Shut. It’s where the master of the lodge – the group’s leader – sits during meetings. A battered 258-year-old bible, brimming with tattered pages, lies on a table in front of the seat.

The only sounds that can be heard inside the hall are the muffled coos of pigeons gathering on the New Cross Street building’s roof. The temple, which is in the centre of Margate’s Old Town, acts as the headquarters for four separate, all-male lodges.

Steve, a burly retired Kent Police inspector, is sat opposite me. Next to the 62-year-old is his friend and fellow mason Paul Johnson, who mutters quiet demurrals as we discuss the society’s dubious reputation.

“Because people don’t understand what we’re about, they start creating their own little stories,” Steve adds.

“We’re not a secret society – we’re a society that has secrets. We’ve chosen not to be in the public eye in the past, but freemasonry is changing."

Both joined 16 years ago. Neither of them had contemplated becoming brethren until friends of theirs asked if they’d be interested over a pint.

Over the following 18 months, they attended masonic events and met with members, whose job it was to ascertain if they were “good people”. The pair were asked their likes and dislikes, before interviews were conducted with members of their family.

Masons put in a series of checks to learn more about their background. Now, they also look for prospective members on social media, which Paul describes as their “most powerful tool”.

People are able to register their interest in joining online, and Steve says they get unsuccessful applicants with dubious pasts applying “all the time”. The pair are wedded to the idea that being a freemason “builds better people”, and believe they need to ensure new recruits are “honest, upstanding individuals” before admitting them.

“To be a freemason, we have to be sure of your integrity. If we’ve got grounds to believe you’re not fit and proper, then we won’t invite you,” Steve continues, flatly.

“If somebody has a long string of convictions, it’s unlikely he’ll be accepted. If he doesn’t volunteer that at the time, eventually it will be found out.

“How? We ask them – although courts do have public records. We carry out some limited checks and ask among ourselves: ‘Does anybody know so-and-so?’ ‘Yeah, I know him – he’s a good old boy.’

“A conviction doesn’t necessarily bar you from being a freemason – because somebody has done something wrong once, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a bad person. A lot of people have done silly things in their teens.”

Another of the requisites is members must believe in a “higher being”. According to Paul, this can range from asserting there is a God or “something above humans”.

The protracted selection process ends with a vote, which tends to be a formality, among masons. The newcomer is then initiated.

Steve and Paul remain guarded about the 90-minute ceremony, noting “you’ll have to join to find out” more. But they say the initiate is led around the temple, while members perform one of the society’s three “playlets” - a short play or dramatic piece.

“When we had our first playlet, at the end of it we still didn’t know what happened because it’s so overwhelming – it’s so very, very special,” Steve recalls.

“For the first-degree ceremony, the whole room’s used and a candidate will be prepared in a certain way.

“It’s not until afterwards that you start to assimilate what’s happened, and that you’re actually part of something that is so big and does so much good.

“Our playlets are steeped in history. They talk about the building of King Solomon’s temple and wisdom. The first one reminds us that everyone is equal and we should look after people less fortunate than ourselves."

Confused joinees are later invited to “practice nights”, where they rehearse the ceremony. Steve compares this to learning lines for a performance.

Members join as “entered apprentices”. They have the opportunity to rise through the ranks, after acting out the next two ceremonies, eventually becoming a master mason.

“In truth, it took me about six years to learn all of the playlets,” Steve continues. “It’s not all done in one hit – you learn the first one, then the second and then the third.

“It’s all part of the fun. It’s a laugh, to be honest.”

Union Lodge has 66 members from across Thanet, Herne Bay, Canterbury and Maidstone. At gatherings the men wear aprons, masonic medals and collars denoting their positions. Following the meetings – which take place exclusively on Wednesdays, eight times a year – they sing Abide with Me, before sitting down for a meal, called a festive board.

The dinners feature toasts to the Queen and the group’s grand master, the Duke of Kent. Each of the evenings see members collecting donations for the master’s chosen charity.

“We don’t have mixed-sex lodges. I don’t see we’ll have mixed lodges for some time yet. The main reason we don’t, I would presume, is because of the playlets”–Steve hesitates, before cryptically adding–"how you’re prepared for them may not be suitable for men to see of a lady.”

While they relish taking part in the eccentric pomp and ceremony, the pair insist the group’s charity work is what they take the greatest pleasure from. Lately, it has helped the QEQM Hospital and made donations to the family of a terminally ill child.

“When I was master of the lodge, my wife and I decided to support a young lad who had so many different illnesses and disabilities. His life expectancy was short,” Steve commented.

“We raised an awful lot of money in a year – enough for us to send his dad and brother to Disneyland Paris. That family was able to build some magical memories with their son, who died not so long ago. To be able to do that is remarkable.”

The society was formed during the Middle Ages as a guild of skilled builders. They developed their own handshakes to tell what type of stonemason they were and their qualifications. These are now taught in the playlets. Following a decline in church building the group changed its focus.

Today, there are about six million masons around the world. Lists of its most famous brethren include the likes of war-time American president Franklin D. Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Nat King Cole, Mozart, Oscar Wilde, Rudyard Kipling and Buzz Aldrin.

Despite this, the Catholic Church has long forbidden its members from becoming freemasons. Its disdain for the group dates back to 1738, amid concerns about its secret rituals. The Vatican later branded the society the “Synagogue of Satan”. And almost 40 years ago, the church declared: "The faithful who enroll in masonic associations are in a state of grave sin and may not receive Holy Communion."

But based on my afternoon inside Margate’s masonic temple, the truth seems to be nowhere near as outrageous. Instead, its rituals appear to consist of esoteric traditions and conventions, which don't deserve the level of fascination they continue to demand.

“Freemasons don’t publicise as much as we could have done in terms of what we do for charity,” Steve avers.

“It’s a very friendly, fun, enjoyable experience. There’s nothing untoward about being a freemason – we’re normal people, doing normal jobs and supporting society. I’m proud to be one.”