Paul Daniels and me - a brief history

Last night, I saw Paul Daniels & Debbie McGee performing at the Millfield Arts Centre Theatre in Edmonton as part of his 'Back... Despite Popular Demand' tour.

I went with S and N. The show started around N's bedtime and ended, clearly, far too late for her. But try telling her that. Gazing at the stage in wide-eyed wonder and talking about the show all the way home. (So much for sleeping in the car.)

I started watching Paul Daniels on television at about her age. I'm going to call him Paul from now on. Saves on the typing.

At the time, I didn't fully appreciate that most magicians worked in theatres and clubs, travelling around the country, taking their well-honed show to place after place, only needing new material when they started their next lap. Whereas Paul needed a new show every week.

No, I didn't think about that. My thoughts were more along the lines of "Wow!" and "How did he do that?" (more on that later) and "Can I buy some (all?) of his tricks from the toy shop?"

Yes, I was am a fan.

I still have the tricks - still in pristine condition (not because they haven't been used - believe me, they have been used - but because they're well made). But now they belong to N - although maybe I borrow them back occasionally.

First encounter

I think it was 1981. I've got the programme somewhere. Prince Of Wales Theatre in London's West End. I can't tell you about the whole show but I clearly remember the moment when my father was invited up on stage. (Maybe 'compelled' would be a better word.)

Paul asked my dad who he had come with. And then Paul mentioned my name. And, when you're eight or nine, that's utterly fantastic.

(Many years later, I discovered that was no accident. We know someone who slightly knew Paul (I forget how) and he wrote him a letter. I've seen a copy - it's with the programme that I've got somewhere. Part of it read something like "I'd be grateful if you could give him a mention because he spends so much time mentioning you".)

And after mentioning me, he then made my father leap out of a chair as though he'd been stung. And then he stuck him to it.

Second encounter

About ten years after the Prince of Wales theatre experience, Paul's television magic show finished. I can't imagine I was best pleased but I understand it must have been something of a relief for him.

(It would be interesting to know how many illusions and tricks he'd performed on television, compared to the number that most magicians perform over their entire career.)

And, about ten years after that, in 2003, I was in Edinburgh for the festival. And Paul was performing again - a smaller show, taking questions in the first half and performing magic in the second.

When he invited me to join him on stage I was so convinced he was talking to the person in the row in front, it took me a several moments to reply.

And he proceeded to make me leap out of a chair as thought I'd been stung. And then he stuck me to it.

How did he do it? More on that later.

Third encounter

At Penn & Teller's show, at the Hammersmith Apollo earlier this year, Paul was sitting a few seats away from me, in the same row. He actually came over to check with me about the seat numbers because they were small and faint and it was dark in there. I think he said something like "I didn't go to night school so I can't read the numbers."

I stupidly thought he'd come for the show and didn't want the attention so I just told him the numbers (I hope in a friendly way) and left him alone. He was then besieged before the show and in the interval by people wanting pictures, autographs or a chat - which he provided. If he wasn't enjoying that attention, you couldn't tell.

Incidentally, I wrote about that show earlier this year (see this page, scroll down a little).

Fourth encounter

Last night, Matt leapt out of a chair as though he'd been stung and was then stuck to it. And why not? He's performing his greatest hits, together with some new material and plenty of hilarity too.

He sat on the edge of the stage and performed a close-up trick that felt like it was just for three of us. (Yes, we were in the front row.)

And I hope he's enjoying performing the shows as much as he says he is. The audience was certainly enjoying watching him last night.

He missed the chance to get someone from a third generation of my family on stage.

But he asked N her name, got her to pick Matt and signed her programme afterwards. (Because he and Debbie came and sat in the foyer after the show for photographs, autographs and chats. A bit like Penn & Teller, as described here.)

Yes, yes but how does he do his tricks?

In his programme, Paul calls himself an actor who appears to defy the laws of physics and science. He calls the show a theatrical experience.

In Penn Jillette's book, he describes magicians who guard the secrets of their tricks being like people guarding an open and empty safe. He says we all know how the tricks are done.

So telling people that you know how the tricks are done is about as relevant as saying that it wasn't really Macbeth on stage - it was just an actor - and he didn't really kill anyone.

Penn also says that tricks are done in the only way they can be done. (For example, David Copperfield can't fly. So he must be on a wire. But how does he hide it?)

But the artistry isn't even really in the concealment - since, deep down, we normally know what's being concealed (e.g. he's dangling on a wire).

The 'trick' is to make an entertaining show that can make an audience gasp and applaud.

So, to answer the question, how does he do his tricks? Paul Daniels does his tricks using decades of practice and experience and a fast, sharp (but not cruel) wit.

Long may it continue. Thank you, Paul, for a great night out.