Casino Heist

trouble-sign

Dec 18 2019

In Trouble

 

 

You know, sometimes tricks go wrong. 

 

Not wrong wrong. Not properly wrong. Not “need to rethink my job” kind of wrong. Not likely to maim a spectator kind of wrong. Pretend wrong. A build up the suspense kind of wrong that leads to a better denouement. 

 

It’s actually a known thing in magician circles – it’s called the “magician in trouble” plot. Used sparingly, it can be quite effective. (Use it too much and you look like an inept buffoon mind. Be careful)

 

The premise is that the trick hasn’t worked. You’re in trouble. You’ve lost the card, you can’t read their mind, the rabbit has impaled itself on a large spike and your dove has caught fire. You get the idea. Then, just as you’ve been written off as a bit of an amatuer, you pull it out of the bag. The card appears in the spectator’s wallet. You show you had predicted their thought before they even thought of it.  And the animals breathe a sigh of relief. (Note to potential customers, I’m not an animal kind of magician – they were just an example. I favour a slim fitting waistcoat ensemble to perform in and don’t have the roomy pocket space required for livestock)

 

Done well, a good “magician in trouble” ploy can be disarming.

 

It’s actually particularly good for the younger generation. If I find myself surrounded by kids at a gig, a bit of “magician in trouble” goes down a storm. Kids, you see, have no qualms in telling you you suck. Seeing the magician make a mistake is actually quite satisfying for them. It’s not uncommon to have pointing, laughing and “loser” symbols at this point. And when you finally deliver the moment of magic, it’s a great “Fuck you” moment. (Note to potential customers, I don’t swear at kids. Or at any spectators for that matter. It’s just that swearing in blogs is terribly fashionably right now)

 

“Hmm Jack, this is all very fascinating. I love it when you go on about magic theory.” I suspect you’re pondering, “Are there any other places where the ‘in trouble’ ruse works?”

 

Well, I’m glad you asked…

 

Films love a bit of “protagonists are in trouble”. Think Ocean’s Eleven. It looks like it’s all gone wrong. And then, it turns out it was all part of the plan. Every time I watch it (and that’s quite regularly – I consider it homework for planning a casino heist of my own) I think, “I bet the script writer was a magician.”

 

Football managers know this too. A good manager will always instruct their team to fall behind 0-2 by half time so they can heighten the suspense in the fans. Winning 3-2 is all the more satisfying for that “football team in trouble” feeling. 4-0 victory? No thanks! (Note to self, check this before publishing. You know your football knowledge is shady at best)

 

Anywhere else? Anyone or anything in trouble right now? Hell Yeah!

 

Donald Trump. Can’t deny it Donny, you’re in a little bit of bother right now. (not that I suspect he’ll read this. He’s still seething over me mocking his teeny tiny hands)

 

Polar bears. They are properly feeling it right now.

 

Oh yeah. And a sizeable chunk of the UK population.

 

All thinking the same thing right now…

 

“I do hope the script writer’s a magician” 

 

 

 

By • Bloody ridiculous, Casino Heist, dénouement, Lying • 0

Plato

Nov 7 2019

Breaking Bad

If you could get away with it, would you turn bad?

 

Would you break the law? Would you lose your morals? If you knew nobody would find out, would you be tempted?

 

Based on the speed of motorists on the Coast Road once the speed cameras were taken away, I would say, “Yes”. If you knew no-one was looking, you’d push the rules.

 

Plato went further.

 

He reckoned that even the most just amongst us would go rogue if we knew we couldn’t be detected. Even worse, a little law breaking wouldn’t cut it. Once we’d “Broken the Seal” of immorality, we wouldn’t be satisfied until we’d killed the king, bedded the queen and become emperor of the world. 

 

Don’t believe me? Look up his work, “The Ring of Gyges”, it’s all in there. Plato (who incidentally is in my top three Greeks*), suggests that we only act in a just and moral fashion because we crave the respect of others. If we know we can get away with it, then stuff respect. We’re off to rule the world.

 

“Why are you banging on about this?”, I hear you ask. “You listen to one philosophy podcast Jack, and you think you’re Chidi Freaking Anagonye.” 

 

(To be honest, it’s not the first time I’ve dabbled in such thoughts. It wasn’t too long ago that I talked about “Breaking the Seal”. And back in the early days of this sub-viral blog, I concluded that the ultimate goal of every magician is to pull off a casino heist)

 

“But surely”, you’re thinking, “You haven’t turned bad Jack. You haven’t set foot on the slippery slope of rogue and dipped a toe in the waters of criminality”

 

Brace yourselves readers. It’s going to get very dark, very quickly.

 

(If this blog were a film, it would go a little hazy now. Maybe shimmer and wobble. You know – flashback to the past kind of thing…)

 

It was a Saturday afternoon. I was in town, dressed like a magician, ready to astonish some guests at a 40th lunch. I tapped my pockets to check everything was in place. Check. Made sure I hadn’t got that half collar in, half collar out thing going on that sometimes happens with my tweediest waistcoat. Check. Rubbed my fingertips together to check they were suitably sticky to perform the trickiest of sleights. Oh bollocks. 

 

In my rush to get to the booking, I’d neglected to put on my obligatory squirt of Norwegian Formula. I’m not kidding here. If I don’t get Neutragenad up before I do a gig, then some sleights are just not going to happen. (The one handed top palm is especially fiendish if your right little finger tip is just the tiniest bit dry)

In other words, If I don’t have this…

There’s no way I’m doing this…

 

Fortunately for me, Superdrug was smiling at me from across Northumberland Street. I dived in, found my product then stared with dismay at the humongous queue. There were at least 10 minutes of customers in front of me. The booking was due to start in 5 minutes time.

 

AAAAAAARGH!

 

This was the moment. The pivotal moment. Sliding doors. Breaking the seal of criminality. Checking around for CCTV and security guards, I sneaked the lid off the hand cream. Squeezed a gram and a half onto each palm. Replaced the lid and popped it back on the shelf.  Walked out looking innocent, whilst secretly rubbing the stuff in. I seem to recall whistling. Can’t look guilty whistling. 

 

And there you have it. Seal broken. 

 

If Plato was right, then I’ve set sail on a dangerous path…

 

Anyway, moral of the story – I owe a couple of apologies. If you bought some Norwegian Formula from Superdrug in Newcastle recently and only got 47 grams instead of 50, then I’m terribly sorry. Get in touch, and I’ll give you a couple of squeezes of my tube. 

 

I also should apologise to the casinos of the North East. 

 

Because, lets face it, it’s only a matter of time now. 

 

 

 

(*In case anyone is interested, my top three Greeks are: Pythagoras, Plato, and Andreas from Kebab King on Station Road)

 

By • Blogging, Bloody ridiculous, Casino Heist • 0

fear

Sep 30 2017

The Fear

  1. Sometimes, it’s good to feel “THE FEAR”.

 

You know that feeling when you pull off a risky overtake in a not terribly speedy hatchback and pull back in just before a whopping great big logging wagon flies past in the other direction? Your heart’s pounding. You forget to breathe. You feel alive! No? Just me then?

 

Or how about that feeling when you weave through the traffic on a fixed wheel bike? Knowing you’re only a quickly opened door or a swerving Transit away from lying spread eagled on a warm car bonnet. Once again. It’s quite a buzz. No? Just me again then?

 

Or how about that feeling as casino security waves through to the vault? As you wear your navy blue suit, holding a clipboard, hoping to god that they don’t look too closely at your freshly laminated security pass, or ask you to open your briefcase containing cutting tools? No? Seriously? Just me again then?

 

Or even that feeling when you quit your reasonably lucrative day job (twice!) in order to earn a crust by getting invited to parties to show magic tricks despite the protestations of your hungry family. “Not bean on toast again daddy.” I get it. Just me. OK. This is getting ridiculous.

 

Even so, there’s a lot to be said for feeling “THE FEAR”.

 

Magicians maybe don’t get it, but the (slightly weirder) entertainers known as escapologists certainly do. “Can I escape these shackles before… I get impaled by spikes / plummet to my doom / get run over by a roller coaster / drown / get licked by these really rough tongued cats?” You get the drift. Real fear. Real excitement. Really feeling alive.

 

Escapologist thrive on a bit of fear. And, audiences lap it up. As do the cats.

 

So, is there a way I can inject THE FEAR into close up magic? Heart stopping, stomach in the mouth fear?

 

Well no. Not impaled by spikes / licked by rough tongued cats fear anyway. But I do manage to inject a little (Houdini inspired) fear every gig. You see, Houdini himself once said the finest trick possible was a card trick. A trick where the magician places a card face down on the table. Commits himself if you will. Then he asks a spectator to think of a card and name it out loud. Then he asks them to slowly turn over the tabled card…

 

As you can imagine, if you can pull off “Houdini’s favourite trick”, you have a seriously magical moment on your hands. Breathtakingly magical. Gaspingly magical. Can’t get to sleep that night wondering how on earth it was done magical. Get it wrong, and you look like a big buffoon. A dipshit. A chancer. Not magical at all.

 

So, that’s how I get “THE FEAR” doing close up magic. Place down that card and commit myself. The next minute is pure fear. Like being on the wrong side of the road as the logging wagon draws closer. Will I pull it off and create astonishment, or fall into the buffoon / dipshit / chancer category? (I’m pleased to say it’s usually the former. I am quite good at this kind of thing you know).

 

What’s that? You don’t believe card magic can ever be scary? How about you come along to my next gig and feel “THE FEAR” for yourself?

 

I’ll even give you a lift there.

Through logging country…

 

By • Astonishment, Breathtaking, Casino Heist, Fear, Magic • 0

Dirty Martini newest

May 11 2016

Double Life

I lead a double life.

It’s nothing sinister. It’s just I’m not always a magician. Sometimes I do non-magiciany things. When I’m buying a creme egg, I don’t reach behind the shop keepers ear to produce a coin for my purchase. If I’m out wardrobe shopping, I don’t rotate the wardrobe around for all in the shop to see then climb in it and disappear. And were I to find myself on the wrong side of a river, I’d look for a bridge. I wouldn’t just walk across it.

It’s not that I don’t like being a magician, I love it, it’s just there’s a time and a place.

Loads of people lead double lives and it’s fine. Sometimes you might meet a mild mannered school teacher who writes erotic fiction in their spare time. Or maybe a barmaid who’s secretly plotting an elaborate casino heist. Sometimes it’s cool to have another side to you that isn’t always apparent.

It reminds me of when I was a spy. On the surface, I was just an ordinary bloke. Doing ordinary bloke things – driving fast cars, bedding lots of beautiful women and drinking lots of Martinis. While secretly, I was infiltrating volcano lairs and bringing down super villains intent on world domination. (As I side note, popular films make spying look totally different to the reality. When I was at spy school, we were expected to drink our Martinis stirred not shaken, and with two olives.)

So, to conclude, if you are currently living a single life; be bold – get yourself another one. And also, try your Martinis stirred. You’ll love it. It’s not the 50’s any more. Get with the times.

By • Casino Heist, Magic, Martini, Spying • 0

ocean

Nov 20 2014

3 Stages of Magic

I reckon that there are three stages of magic.

The first stage is the kind of thing I do. It’s the kind of thing Dynamo does. And Penn. And Teller. And David Blaine (well back in the day anyway, before he started living in boxes and standing still on top of towers). It involves honest to goodness astonishment. Done well, stage 1 magic can make people go “ooh!”, it can make them disbelieve their eyes, and at it’s finest, can make people feel childlike awe. However, deep down, most people realise it’s all a trick. A very good trick nonetheless, but a trick all the same. They may not be able to get to sleep at night wondering how it was done, but they still know they have been tricked. I’ve no problem with this, and I suspect that Penn, Teller, Blaine and Namo don’t either. Stage 1 magic can be very satisfying.

Stage 2, However, is a different kettle with different fish in it. People are still astonished, people feel childlike awe, and most certainly may not be able to sleep at night. The big difference here is they don’t think it’s a trick. Stage 2 magic makes people believe they have seen something real. Derren Brown does this better than most people in the world. Derren has mastered suggestion, psychology and people reading that allows him to perform real miracles (not mere tricks!). I’ve dabbled with stage 2 magic. Looking for the tiny clues that give away what people are thinking can be very rewarding (but my goodness, it takes some practice!). However, I do still love trickery, and I can’t quite bring myself to abandon stage 1 for good.

So stage 1 – astonished, but know it’s a trick. Stage 2 – astonished, with something real. What the flip is stage 3!?

Stage 3 is a step further. Fooled. Didn’t even realise it was a trick. Didn’t even know anything had happened. Stage three is delving into Hustle territory. Danny Ocean would have been a belting magician. Pulling off a Casino Heist would be the ultimate example of stage 3 magic. Fooling people into handing over whopping amounts of cash without even noticing. Stage 3 magic, however, doesn’t make great wedding or party entertainment. “Did you see the magician tonight?”, “No but my bank account looks to have been emptied and I seem to be one kidney down” is never going to get any repeat bookings.

So, I’m going to stick to stage 1 for parties and weddings for now. I’ll keep the stage 3 plans of a Casino Heist as a sideline project.

If any one out there would care to join me in my Casino Heist plans, please get in touch.

With your bank account details.

And mother’s maiden name please.

By • Astonishment, Casino Heist, David Blaine, Derren Brown • 0