User Reviews

Sorry, I used up my 1000 words in my previous review, but something (entirely narcissistic of course) made me wonder if this anecdote might add something to the mix.

Being the trainee in the London BBC studios as I was in 1980 meant that one of my jobs was to lug (and those EMI 2001's, plonked on Vinton HP pedestals were big, heavy, mothers) all of the cameras from wherever the camera crew had locked them off, to the line up area. This was a grey-scale chart (Royle's 57?) which we used to tweak the cameras so that they all matched.

The job had a couple of bonuses. The first was I got to drive the cranes as there was always at least one on the PDMS, and they had to be manoeuvred over to the line-up chart as well. The second was the time I managed to spend in the company of the improbably named 'Ali Bongo' He is not credited for this on the IMDb, but Bongo devised most of these tricks, and was always there in the background. During the line-up period (which lasted about an hour before the audience were admitted) he was running through the gags to make sure they were set up and working.

William Wallace, as he was born, was a magician in his own right: usually appearing on stage dressed in costume reminiscent of Ali Baba (hence his stage name), but while working with Daniels he wore more conventional garb. It was one of the few occasions when I didn't have to be asked or forced to move the cameras, as I would be there as soon as I saw him. Here's a couple of tricks he showed me. I should confess that Wallace/Bongo remains Vice Chair of the Magic Circle to this day and is opposed to revealing such secrets. But as these are nearly 25 years old and not performed anymore, I hope he'll forgive me.

From a props table Daniels would retrieve a fishing rod, and wave it in front of the audience. At the end of the quite short line would be a potato chip fixed on the hook, because as Daniels would explain, fish and chips go together. At that he would flick the rod, rather like cracking a whip and there would appear a goldfish wriggling madly on the end of the chip. He would quickly run his hand to the end of the line take the fish and pop it into a waiting fish tank where it would swim perfectly happily while the audience applauded. To show it was no fluke he'd repeat the trick three or four times. The trick?

The 'chip' was plastic and hollow. Hidden inside was a deflated orange balloon (attached to the line rather than the chip) which the flick would dislodge leaving it flapping realistically outside. Daniels would then hold the chip, pull gently on the line which would draw the 'fish' back into its hiding place and then walk to the tank. The tank was a metal framed affair and cleverly concealed along the inside top edge was a shallow gutter where a few goldfish would be gasping and wriggling, hidden from all eyes. Daniels would simply flick one into the water giving the impression that he'd dropped it from his hand and repeat the whole thing again. Applause!

The next was even more audacious and required a member of the audience. Daniels would manoeuvre him towards the 'Jury' and ask to borrow his jacket. Although the Jury were supposed always to be behind Daniels, this gag required him to move back towards where a low wall separated them from the band section behind so that all prying eyes were now in front of him.

Daniels would swirl the jacket around and then carrying it only by the collar would walk a few paces forward, lower the jacket to the floor and then whip it up to reveal six or so fish bowls, full of water - and fish, stacked one on top of the other. The audience would go mad while he handed the jacket back with a flourish. The trick?

Hidden behind the wall from both audience and jury (but of course in full view of the band who were in on it) was the stack of bowls, all neatly trussed up in a lightweight harness. Once the completely innocent stooge had arrived on stage, Daniels would take his jacket, and naturally the guy followed him wherever he went. Daniels, cracking jokes as he went, would move back towards the hiding place, and swing the jacket around and about, including around behind the wall, and collect the fish bowls behind the jacket as he did so. He would then pull a pin on the harness which released the straps which he could then gather one-handed up into his sleeve while the audience were gasping with delight at the fish bowls which had seemingly appeared in front of them. Given that he was inches from the stooge, merely feet from the Jury, this one impressed me more than the others, because of its audacity.

I think that was the beauty of Daniels. Like all magicians he relied on technology, vast numbers of assistants and co-conspirators, but behind all of that was a confidence bordering on arrogance and talent to pull off some great tricks which nobody had at the time, and few can match now.

It is no exaggeration to say that Paul Daniels is among the elite when it comes to magicians. The man is an absolute genius on stage and this show which ran from 1979 to sometime in the mid-90's was just fantastic.

Currently, in the UK, Saturday night TV is dire (in my opinion). We usually get boring reality shows featuring talentless no-bodies who are after fifteen minutes of fame. How I long for the return of real entertainers like Paul Daniels.

The Paul Daniels Magic Show was an hour of absolutely everything magic mixed with fun and games. Paul did everything-card tricks, vanishing tricks, role play, the lot. Each week, Paul seemed to top the previous show. At one point, I thought he may actually be using real magic (if such a thing exists) but obviously, it is all sleight of hand. Paul would also do role play where he would play a character whilst committing magic at the same time. Joining him was his wife Debbie McGee who took part in the fun and games.

This was the most entertaining Saturday night show ever in my opinion and it was a sad day when it ended. However, Paul has left the viewers of his former show with enough fun-filled memories to last a lifetime.

Now, that's magic!

In the mid to late seventies there ran a short afternoon slot on the BBC devoted to magic. David Nixon, the undisputed king of British TV magic in the 1960's and 70's had sadly died and the BBC seemed to be searching for a replacement. Various magicians each took a turn, performing three or four tricks each.

The slot lasted no more than five or ten minutes, and was a filler between children's programmes, but one performer stood head and shoulders above the rest. His catch phrase was 'You'll like this – not a lot! – but you'll like it'. The BBC did like it, and for the next fifteen years Paul Daniels would star in his own show and guest on countless others, using that phrase, clever illusions, and his bubbly persona.

For the PDMS, the studio was rigged in the typical style of light entertainment sets of the day with audience seating occupying about half of the floor space, the set another quarter to a third on the other side, and cameras and other crew jammed in the space in between. Stage right was generally clear, for guest performers, and anything that required a little space, but stage left was where most of the action occurred. Sat on two rows of seats on a low rise plinth were a 'jury' A dozen or so members of the audience who were plucked out to sit behind Daniels while he worked, to ensure no 'cheating' A path ran from the very back of the set, past a band and then the jury to the downstage area allowing McGee to bring various props to and from Daniels. It would take a good fifteen seconds to get there, which gave the audience time to admire her ample curves, and also allow Daniels some vital misdirection.

The show had some spectacular tricks, scrutinised by the jury, and a couple of guest slots with acrobats, contortionists, jugglers, and other circus style performers, but it was Daniels who hogged the attention of the audience. All of the large scale tricks required assistance from various stooges, and props men. The larger the trick, the bigger the con. Most of these have been 'blown' by various documentary shows, but here's one that I remember that you might not have come across.

Daniels asked a member of the audience with a credit card to come forward. The jury, unusually on this instance, was composed solely of employees of all the major credit cards that existed at the time and when the card was proffered Daniels asked the representative of that company to confirm (which she did) that the card was genuine.

McGee is then called from backstage to bring a table mounted coffee-grinder which she does, losing two table legs on the way. With the audience still laughing at the apparent gaff, Daniels pushes a hidden button on the table which releases two replacement legs allowing McGee to place the table in front of Daniels.

After again showing the card to everyone he proceeds to grind it to dust in the coffee mill, putting the resultant powder into a small metal tin. He shows the dust to the now rather glum looking audience member, and then lights it using a box of matches. The powder flares up and then settles to some low flames, while Daniels walks with the tin to stage right where just fluttering down is a long thin piece of tissue paper, which he lights with the flame. The camera follows the fire as it consumes the tissue paper, upwards towards where the studio lights are, to where there is a small balloon, which bursts when the heat reaches it.

Out from the balloon, drops an envelope dangling from a small parachute which Daniels chases around the stage before grabbing it and handing it to the audience member. When opened it reveals the owners credit card, genuine and undamaged. Applause.

The trick? Daniels has a jacket with upwards of twenty (20) inside pockets each with a genuine, but blank credit card. Whatever the guy hands him, he has a duplicate, and McGee's 'accident' with the table legs allows Daniels to retrieve the correct duplicate card from his pocket without being seen. When McGee bends to place the table on stage Daniels slips the card in a pocket in her dress, and she then exits and clips the card to a piece of fishing line.

Up in the lighting grid sit a couple of props guys (with me watching them!) who pull up the line, slip the card in the envelope and pop it into the balloon who's mouth is stretched over an empty baked bean tin open at both ends to facilitate this. The balloon is inflated, tissue paper attached, and they have just enough time to get everything in position before Daniels below ignites the paper for the trick's finale. Simple!

Of course everyone was in on these 'tricks' (except for the audience!) but there was one feature of the show that nobody could figure out, and that was the 'Bunko Booth.' Daniels would use a small booth, much the sort of thing you see at carnivals and fetes and - hamming it up - he would put on a bowler hat and costume while the victim - usually a member of the audience - would sit the other side of the table.

He would then produce a few dice, or a deck of cards, or cup and balls and make something disappear, appear or change colour seemingly using real magic. He would challenge anyone to see point out how he did the trick. No one ever did. Not audience, jury - nor us who would crowd round him during rehearsals, and breaks while he did the same trick, time after time.

Times, and tastes change, and Daniels tends to be seen more on the 'B' list circuit these days. Sad really as he was one of the best.