The Magical Peppers and the Great Vanishing Act Read online

  Place the handkerchief on top of the pile of cards, with the toothpick section underneath the rest of the handkerchief. Look casual as you do this, as if you were thinking about your dinner. Maybe chat about the weather or the plumage of the mandarin duck. Next, using one hand, lift the toothpick between your thumb and forefinger and raise it up from the pile of cards – it should appear as if you are holding the edge of one of the cards.

  Then with a flick of the wrist and an “In all totality!” you wave the handkerchief in the air to show there’s no card inside. It has simply vanished.

  Huzzah!

  People say that your accent reveals a lot about you. It might display where you are from, what type of school you go to and what sort of opera you like. Well, tish now, if you are a performer, you can alter your voice to suit your persona (for more on personas, see Dr Pompkins Volumes I and II, non-deluxe versions). I know one magician who adopts a rough Scottish accent when he is on stage as he feels it gives him a more earthy image. He does, of course, go by the name of the Scottish Magician. Another conjuror often pretends to be French when she does her tablecloth routine – to marvellous effect. There are many ways to project the voice – as some great actors will tell you – so that people at the back can hear. You might want to seek out an actor’s guide in a local shop, or indeed library, and read it through for ideas.

  In all totality,

  smé, Monty and Potty walked along yet another corridor, the walls of which were lit from below with tiny ice-blue lights and filled once more with white-coated cleaners scrubbing at the marble floor.

  Esmé looked around, thinking back to the stories about Sir Hans Toast’s code and the secret passageways. Toast had created the museum all those years ago with his own vast collection of objects from around the world, so the library book had said. He had designed the museum so there were underground passageways and rooms to store some of the items that were not on show. Toast’s special code had been discovered a decade ago, written on the information panels belonging to a handful of objects scattered around the museum. The code was still hidden, but it would tell anyone in the know where the secret passageways were.

  But Henry claimed he was not aware of the code. Was he telling the truth?

  Certainly on this level there was no sign of an underground passageway – no doors leading off anywhere, no secret levers or pulleys. (Esme’s speciality was using levers and pulleys if Potty needed technical help with his stage act.) Just clean white walls and hi-tech lighting.

  At last Henry led them into a large room with a neon sign on the wall that read, in bright-red tubes of light: WEALTH AND WISDOM ZONE.

  “Now this is what we’re most proud of, this is what the modern public wants.” Henry held his arms out wide. “A spectacular display of the nation’s most treasured articles.”

  “The Royal Collection?” Esmé remembered the poster.

  “Yes, Her Majesty has lent us most of the treasures, which is really very good of her. Potty, you’ll get so much inspiration from here.”

  The Wealth and Wisdom Zone was the largest single exhibition space inside the museum – it was clearly designed to attract the most visitors.

  “Everyone loves the Queen, don’t they?” said Henry. “And people like gazing at large slabs of jewellery and exotic gems, especially with the addition of modern lighting and laser displays.”

  With this, Henry J. Henry dimmed the lights.

  “This is what I wanted to show you,” he called in the darkness. “Forget about the other mouldy old exhibits, you’re in for a treat here.”

  At once, a spotlight shone to the left, directly on what looked like a wall of pure gold bullion. The spotlight swung quickly to the right, where it alighted on an enormous ruby, the size of an ostrich egg (and a particularly large ostrich at that).

  Monty couldn’t help letting out a large gasp; Potty squeaked in awe; Esmé was silent.

  The light swung back into the centre of the room and illuminated an empty velvet-covered table.

  Potty squeaked again, only to realise that what he was looking at was just an empty space.

  “Wait a moment,” said Henry, and he clicked his fingers as a piece of heavy damask fabric fell on to the table from above. Henry counted to three and the fabric swiftly rose to reveal a table full of treasures – a royal crown holding gems as fat as digestive biscuits, next to a wildly twinkling sceptre. Scattered around were diamonds the size of chicken nuggets and something that looked like a gold cheese grater.

  “Wow,” said Monty, who had never imagined he would imagine seeing anything like it in his life, let alone actually see it. “A golden cheese grater.”

  “It’s wonderful,” said Esmé, whose eyes were hurting just watching the jewels sparkling under the lights.

  “And it’s all worth a lot of money,” said Henry.

  Potty was silent, dumbstruck by the jewels.

  “Now, wait for the next part,” said Henry.

  The light suddenly went out, then shone once more on the gold bullion, then the ruby, then the Crown Jewels. It repeated the cycle speedily, in quick succession. Again and again, the light switched from one great show of wealth to another. It was almost hypnotic. The light went out again and a new object was illuminated at the far end of the room.

  “Whoa,” mumbled Potty.

  “In all totality,” added Monty.

  The Peppers and Potty walked towards the great shining object in the distance. It cast small lines of coloured light in all directions.

  “This is the pièce de résistance – the crystal skull,” said Henry, now enthusiastic. “It’s thought to have been made by Mayan stone workers in Mexico hundreds of years ago. It’s carved from a single block of quartz.”

  The skull retained the light within its crystal form, making the object look as if it glowed from the inside.

  “It certainly is impressive,” noted Potty.

  “And unlike the boring old obsidian mirror,” said Henry, “this is the object that is said to contain real magic. Whoever owns the skull will be blessed with good fortune – extreme wealth, in fact.”

  “I just saw it wink,” said Monty.

  “Maybe it’s the angle of the light,” suggested Esmé.

  Monty continued to gaze at the skull, wondering if it would bring him luck and extra pocket money to buy more magic tricks with.

  “Of all the items in this room,” said Henry J. Henry with pride, “the skull is worth the most money.”

  “I bet,” said Monty.

  “Yes,” Henry’s eyes lit up. “More, even, than the royal crown over there.”

  “But clearly that’s not the point, is it?” Esmé looked hard at Henry, but he ignored her and turned to Potty.

  “So you will use the skull in your trick, won’t you?”

  “Oh yes, most certainly,” replied Potty, full of rapture. “It’s the ideal object. It will capture the light beautifully and provide an aura of mystique that I would not have with an ordinary item, such as a hat or a pencil sharpener.”

  Esmé did not know what was really going on with Henry J. Henry, but something about him was making her uneasy. She hadn’t liked the way he’d yawned at the Rosetta Bone, amongst many many other things, and she was determined to be on high alert from now on.

  An excerpt from

  TRICK: The Disappearing Coin

  This is a simple trick – all you need is a coin.

  Sit at a table and tell your audience to hand you any coin they please. Tell them that you will be rubbing the coin on your elbow to make it disappear – then rub the coin on your left elbow.

  Drop the coin on the table, and this time tell the assembled crowd that it doesn’t seem to work with that elbow, so you will try with the other. Pick the coin up with your right hand and pretend to place it in your left hand. Put your right hand (with the coin) up by your ear and rub your left hand – which your audience believe is holding the coin – on your elbow. Meanwhile, slowly drop the coin down
the back of your shirt.

  Display both of your hands and show the audience that you have made the coin disappear. Voilissimo! That will get ’em.

  Tip: do not immediately stand up after this trick as the coin may fall on to the floor, revealing all.

  Many of you youngsters will be used to buying trousers and hats and T-shirts and trainers from shops ready-made. Yet, as a magician, you may have to go to Ye Olde Crafte Shoppe and get yourself a needle, thread and fabric – you will have to learn to sew and make. Many magicians hand-stitch their own costumes because they want something original to wear that simply cannot be bought off-the-peg. Many sew extra pockets into hats (see Eggs from a Hat trick) or trousers or waistcoats – to store or hide tiny magical props. Some magicians build their own props (see Health and Safety) and tricks. So thread up, prong through and get sewing!

  In all totality,

  t this point, the tour – such as it was – finished. Henry smiled. “I will leave you to your rehearsals,” he said. “Do holler if you need anything.” And he left the Wealth and Wisdom Zone, his shiny shoes squeaking on the marble floor beneath him. Uncle Potty and the Pepper twins decided to discuss Potty’s trick outside on the grass, near the Plants from Really Really Ancient Times. It was a bright sunny day, just the right sort of weather for talking through tricks.

  Potty sat, deep in ponderous thought, although he was also able to produce a flask of tea from his yellow cape and three plastic cups at the same time.

  “The skull is the right size and a good weight – I can make it disappear, no problem. What we need to do now is go back home and consult Dr Pompkins for tips,” Potty mused. “Plus the Nigel Copperfield memoirs and some old International Magic Guys programmes. Then we come back tomorrow morning and start rehearsals. We have five days until the royal opening.”

  “Will the magic shed be involved?” asked Esmé, slightly concerned.

  “It will be essential,” answered Potty.

  “What’s my role?” asked Monty.

  “Let me see...” replied Potty, standing up on the short grass. “We will need to make a plump cushion for the skull to rest on, so we’ll visit the haberdasher’s on the way back and buy some metres of fabric. Thenceforth –” Esmé could tell from Potty’s language that he was truly inspired – “you, Montague Gaia Pepper, will be in charge of the cushion.”

  “Ooh,” said Monty – whose middle name was indeed Gaia – and his eyes looked twice as big as normal.

  “Esmé Moonchild Pepper,” said Potty, unaware that Esmé might not be so keen on her full name being spoken out loud in public. “I want you to double-check the angles from the audience’s point of view. And to ensure that nothing explodes this time.”

  “Rightio,” said Esmé.

  “This is a royal occasion, and therefore we must excel ourselves so that the Queen is proud of her regional performers,” announced Potty.

  “In all totality!” Monty cheered.

  “To John Lewis we go!” shouted Potty and off the three marched, gleefully striding out of the tall museum gates and up the road.

  Esmé quickly looked back at the colossal building as they left. She was certain she spotted Henry J. Henry looking out of a high window, watching the visitors depart.

  Potty rehearsed in the magic shed day and night for four days. During his tea breaks he read his way through enormous volumes such as 75 Ways to Lose a Skyscraper, My Favourite Empty Spaces, Make Your Own Head Disappear and many more.

  To begin with, Potty tried to make a matchstick vanish and, due to his now exceptional sleight of hand skills – and his supremely long fingers – he succeeded. Next, Potty made a large pot full of soil disappear. Easy. Then next door’s cat. Miaow.

  It took Potty a whole day to read Nigel Copperfield’s memoirs, which were entitled How to Marry a Supermodel. Copperfield was famous for having asked a celebrated fashion model to be his wife while he was suspended from the Forth Bridge in Scotland. The bridge had disappeared during the proposal, leaving Nigel hanging in mid-air, which had impressed Miss Germaine Hoode so much she had said yes. The trouble was, Miss Hoode herself disappeared only moments after her loving reply, never to be found again.

  The book didn’t really contain tips for the professional magician, but was more of a long rambling lament from Nigel, who claimed that his life (and his magic skills) had never been the same since. Had Potty known that from the start, he would never have picked up the book in the first place.

  “What a magnificent waste of time,” Potty sighed, as he snapped the book shut. “At least I know not to mix magic with romance.”

  Esmé shuddered at the thought as Potty took a sheet of paper from the kitchen table and began to draw his plans for an elliptical frame.

  “The frame must be big and almost as tall as the museum,” said Potty. “The audience will be seated outside, in front of the museum, watching my act through the frame; then a gigantic curtain will swoosh! across it for a couple of seconds. When the curtain is drawn back it will look like the museum has completely disappeared.”

  “How does that work?” asked Monty.

  “It’s complicated, so bear with me,” explained Potty. “It’s all in the lighting. We perform the trick at nightfall and use spotlights on the museum building and lights on the frame. We switch off all the lights when the curtain goes across and the museum is hidden. Then the next part of the act is that the frame itself will move and, according to Copperfield, the audience won’t notice. When the curtain draws back it reveals the night sky – the museum is hidden by the enormous, brightly lit frame. It’s all an optical illusion, but on a grand scale.”

  “So the frame does all the work,” said Esmé.

  “Exactly,” replied Potty. “And because it’s such a big frame and so brightly lit, it will obscure the museum completely. The angles have to be just so, but it should work.”

  “Wow,” said Monty.

  “Nigel Copperfield has made most of the world’s famous landmarks disappear, so everybody who witnesses such a spectacle has the expectation that grand things will happen. The result is that they willingly accept the illusion.”

  “Will you need this frame for the disappearance of the skull?” asked Esmé.

  “No,” replied Potty, “I just hide it in my cape when no one’s looking.”

  Potty and Monty grabbed the piece of paper and took it into the garden so they could work on making the magic shed disappear.

  “Give us thirty minutes and we’ll show you something incredible, Esmé,” said Monty.

  “Actually, it could take up to an hour,” corrected Potty.

  Esmé sat patiently at the kitchen table and looked through the Nigel Copperfield memoir, though she was not really reading the book but thinking about Henry J. Henry. She wondered why he had no interest in the Rosetta Bone or Dr Dee’s obsidian mirror. And hadn’t he called Potty a rival instead of a magician? Hmm. Something just didn’t add up.

  After ten minutes, Monty ran into the kitchen to grab a pencil and Esmé realised that this was her chance to tell him about Henry. But once Esmé had explained her doubts, her twin brother seemed only vaguely concerned.

  “Henry J. Henry only wanted to show us the skull,” he explained. “We made him give us a tour – I think he was in a rush. He has a whole show to put on in less than a week. Of course he didn’t want to look at the other items on display.”

  “But I told you, he also called other magicians rivals, by mistake,” Esmé said.

  “A habit from his Harry Starfeather days?” ventured Monty. “Surely they were rivals when he was starting out, but I can’t imagine Henry thinks that now.”

  Esmé was not convinced. There was something about Henry J. Henry she just didn’t like.

  “Come along, Esmé, we’re ready for you!” called Potty from the garden. It was mid-evening already and the sun was starting to set.

  “Don’t worry,” said Monty, patting Esmé on the shoulder. “Once you’ve seen Potty’s ac
t you’ll forget about Henry.”

  Esmé smiled faintly and took her seat in the garden.

  An excerpt from

  TRICK: Magic Cloak

  There is a wonderful trick by the great Timothy Cooper that is simplicity itself, which he made famous by failing to conceal how it works. Cooper’s genius lay in the fact that he realised the audience would laugh and enjoy themselves even if the tricks he was doing didn’t succeed.

  My friends, sew yourself a large cloak with sleeves and greet the audience wearing it. Make sure the fit is big.

  Cooper’s trick was to stand at the back of the stage by the curtain partition, and from his magic cloak he would produce items that got more and more ridiculous: a bucket, a plank of wood, a ladder. Then his cloak would rip as he turned to talk to his assistant, who was behind the curtain, and the audience’s enjoyment and laughter increased. They enjoyed the failure of the illusion.

  If you have access to the internet you can watch Cooper’s TV clips and learn from the master.

  It is a pleasure and a wonder to enchant an audience and hear them sigh when the drama of each trick unfolds. Some of the audience will be rapt – some may be trying to find out what the weather is like in Poland on a smartphone or somesuch – but it’s most important that at least they are all sitting in their seats. Babies might cry, children may fidget, but as long as you can involve them in the act – ask a few on stage to help you hold props or recite a magic catchphrase – all will be well. The clue to this is experience. Keep performing in front of your friends for practice. Practice maketh perfection, as they say.

  In all totality,