Today, I’ve
tweeted twice about Wizbit.
I don’t know why
this Paul Daniels-fronted vehicle for kids' TV has been on my mind. There’s no rhyme
or reason to it. Perhaps I walked past something conical.
I was a big fan
of Wizbit as a kid (is it odd to idolize a geometric shape?). I was obsessed
with magic. It all started after receiving a Paul Daniels Magic Set one
Christmas.
My mum actually
gave it to me a couple of days before Jesus’ official birthday, to soften the
blow after my pet rabbit died. I now wonder if these two events were linked. Did the Son of God have an alibi? Being omnipresent, He
must at least have witnessed it.
Like a drug
addict switching from pot to coke, I soon craved bigger tricks. I’d use my pocket money to fund my habit, buying new effects from Davenport’s each week. I'd read all the books on the subject that I could find. I subscribed to Abracadabra
Magazine and joined a local conjuring club.
While most other kids mimed along to music in front of their bedroom mirror, I'd be practising with my linking rings. I wasn’t a bad
magician, even if I do say so myself. I once won my family a holiday to Margate; what other evidence do you need?
On reaching puberty, I gradually lost interest. I also lost most of my props; lending
them to a boy at school who never gave them back. I still remember the name of the culprit: Glen Drew, your cards are marked.
They’re
not your cards, Glen; they’re mine.