Opening Night

In one of the many odd traditions of theatre, ‘Opening Night’ happened on the third night of the run. And it was an early start, to give the journalists time to write up their glowing doxologies after the event. It felt like a rather good night: full of pace, with some excellent volunteers on stage and a lively, enthusiastic audience. Plenty of members of the press found themselves catching the frisbees and heading up on stage too, which was fun. Sadly a few have printed spoilers in their reviews, despite my request not to, so be careful reading them if you’re coming to see the show and wish to enjoy it fully.

Guests at the party included Charlie Brooker and Reece Shearsmith, two recent faces on this blog. The ‘best dinner-party guest in history or the scariest man in Britain’ quote that my press persons used for some time and which sits on the front cover of ‘Tricks of the Mind’ was written by Charlie years ago, and I was finally able to thank him for it. And I was able to apologise for the fact that they’d replaced the third ‘balls-out con artist’ option with a discreet ‘…’, at least until I read as much in one of Charlie’s books and immediately had the missing section reinstated. So, job done. This was the first time I’d met him properly and he was delightful. Reece and I spoke about Psychoville, which I am desperate to see. We were discussing the option of me going over to his place and watching all seven episodes with him, back-to-back. Which we abandoned as only one of us would be able to see the screen. Doh! We may do that soon. It sounds like a wonderful afternoon to me.

I’m hugely under-slept at the moment, having missed much of the last couple of nights. I’m sat in town, trying to work on the book, but finding it hard to keep my eyes open. I shall sleep at the Adelphi this afternoon. I’ve just come from doing a brief TV interview with David Frost (I haven’t done any TV like that for years). There’s a man who loves people and famously carries about him a conspicuous, easy charm. I nearly fell asleep on his lap. And I’m waiting to meet a very lovely journalist from the New Yorker, Adam Green, who comes over to see the shows when they open. He’ll probably have to wake me.

I thought I should mention that the other night I was having dinner, upstairs from where I am now, in the same restaurant as both Noel Fielding AND Russ Abbot. How about that. What a thought. No, they weren’t sat together, but there you go. Both in the same restaurant. Imagine.

Enough celebrity gossip. If I find any nice pictures from the party I’ll put them up. Now I’m just going to close my eyes for a few moments. Ssshhhh….


First Night West End

Well, if I may say so, it was a triumph. The Adelphi is a beautiful theatre and the new, glossed-up show looks a treat. I was amazed that we pretty much sold out the first night – many thanks to any devotees who made it a point to come on the very first night. Wednesday is the official ‘opening’ night, with press and glitzy people present.

The comedian Mark Watson came up on stage after catching a frisbee – he is sensational, I’m a big fan. I did my best to hide any excitement for fear it might look like we’d pre-arranged something.

As Mark says “I can promise everyone it was an absolute fluke, except in the sense that I nearly mowed a couple of people down in my desperation to catch the frisbee, as I have every time I’ve seen him. I assumed Derren didn’t know who I was. When I saw this on the blog I nearly had a heart attack, which would have been hard on my heart as it’s only just recovering from being in that bloody box. As ever, an amazing show.”

There you go. Huzzah and Hurrah. Shall keep you posted with anything of interest.


Derren Brown Interview – Telegraph

Derren Brown is a mind-reading, bullet-dodging, cabbie-confounding magician, but he’s not the devil – he’s just a very tired boy…


Derren Brown is about to astound me. Britain’s most famous mind reader, magician, master of misdirection and a man whose book, Tricks of the Mind, tells you how to memorise whole reams of unrelated information, is in the kitchen of his north London flat, making himself a fresh coffee and me more tea.

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