New Trick

A selected member of the audience presses a large button in front of the stage.

This charges up a platform and, a couple of seconds later, it gives the magician a kick into the air, making it look like he has jumped up really high.

At the apex of the jump trajectory, the magician waves his wand and sparkles and stars issue forth from it in the direction of a coat hanger, to the extreme edge of the stage.

A T-shirt slowly materialises on the coat hanger, swinging from side to side.
The audience member gets onto stage, picks up the T-shirt, and shows it to the audience to prove that it's real. They get to take it home with them.

A special pheromone has been sprayed onto the T-shirt that makes it irresistible to wear.

Two days after the performance, the audience member will still be wearing the T-shirt. At the same time in the evening as the act was, it will dematerialise, leaving the audience member topless.

The clever bit is that, during the wearing time, the T-shirt will have stored up some of the heat energy generated by the person. When it gets re-materialised back onto the coat hanger, it wirelessly transmits the stored energy to a battery under the platform for the performance after the current one. In this way, this trick becomes the first illusion to be given the coveted "A" energy rating.

I might make a flash to explain this in more detail for when I submit it to the trick approvals department.

Gliding

I going to buy a hang-glider and fly around wearing no trousers. I will shit on birds that are flying below me and they will fall to the ground under the weight.

In the photo, I *am* wearing trousers. Sorry about that.

Spatula man

I’ve found a photo of “spatula man” or “fish slicer man” on google maps. I was telling you all about him last week. This is the guy whose wife married him thinking that she’d be Ok with his wooden spatula hand, but she kept getting splinters and realised that it really wasn’t Ok. She’d get him varnish for his birthday as a hint, but he wouldn’t understand. “Why have you got me varnish?” he’d say, “We don’t need to varnish anything?”

She was in tears when she spoke to me (in my agony uncle capacity) over google’s webcam application. Also, he gets words wrong and that’s bugging her. Like, when he’s talking about work, he’ll say “Yeah, I’m a real hard grifter”. When she points out his mistake, he’ll deny it and insist that he said “grafter” all along. In frustration, she recorded him talking and played back his mistakes to him. He told her, quite seriously, that the recorder was broken.

Whilst asleep she moved his spatula hand into a tin of wood varnish. He woke up saying that he’d had dreams about swimming and his wife found that he’d wet the bed with creosote. The weird thing was that his spatula hand was still unvarnished. She still can’t figure out what happened.

GeordieBorough has lowest gun crime figures

Geordies have nipples on top of their shoulders and this is why frequently you see them walking around with milk dripping down their arms. The slippiness this generates makes holding things difficult which is why Geordieborough has one of the lowest gun crime incident numbers in the country.

Sieg Wan

Sieg Wan is a cross-dressing gay half-german half-chinese fashion critic/advisor nazi who totters around in ill-fitting high heels.

Sieg Wan put on his jimmy choos and slung his prada handbag over his shoulder.
He tottered up to his pink mini, registration plate SIEG WANK, and flounced into the driver's seat.
After adjusting his make-up he moved the rear view mirror back into position and sighed,
"Trime to hrit the road, Sieg. A nazi's gotta do what a nazi's gotta do. Gotta strick to the mission, that's what I gotta dro. Sieging the Heil. That's the rife for mre."
Sieg revved the engine and saluted once, twice, three times a gay nazi, beeped his little nazi schwastika horn, and gunned it down the heilway.

Brown Tar

Morganon Reichberg: I just did a terrible thing that will likely destroy any remaining respect that you may have for me.
I manipulated the coffee machine glands so that they might secrete some precious coffee, but they ran dry after they had filled no more than a 1/3 of a cup. What to do? In such situations, I ask myself, “What would Hitler do?”. My answer was to top up the murky brown tar with instant coffee and boiling water. After that I added milk and poured all of the sugar from the “Sugar” and “Sugar lumps” tins into the filthy concoction. The resulting drink is so thick that I am having to spoon it out like a yoghurt.

Henri Le Croissant

Le Croissant, Henri