Nothing Is Impossible: The Real-Life Adventures of a Street Magician (15 page)

BLAGGING SOON BECAME
second nature. When I first blagged my way backstage at a Coldplay concert, I knew it would be very tough to get Chris Martin’s attention. He’d just come offstage and was hanging out with his family and friends. Why would he want to be entertained by someone he’d never met? How could I get to him? I had a video camera with me and I knew this could be a great opportunity to get some incredible footage. I just had to work out how to get myself in front of Chris.

Once again, Kemi had hooked us up with tickets to the show as well as some kind of backstage access, though it was nowhere near the dressing rooms. This meant we would have to do a lot of work to break away from the gathered fans, hangers-on and industry people to get to where the real action was.

We tried to take what we thought was a pretty nonchalant stroll through the warren of the backstage corridors, hoping that no one would spot us and say, ‘Oi, what the hell are you two up to?’

As I had suspected, Dan and I couldn’t get anywhere near Chris or the band; there was no way the security were going to let us
into their inner sanctum. By chance, we saw an older woman in another room down the corridor from the band’s dressing room. I wandered in there, said ‘Hello’ and showed her some card magic. The woman’s jaw dropped. ‘Chris,’ she shouted, ‘you have to see this.’ Before I knew it, I was being marched down the corridor into the dressing room, with this woman waving her AAA pass at the security.

‘Hang on a minute,’ said Chris, engrossed in a conversation with his band mates and wife, Gwyneth Paltrow.

‘Chris, you really need to see what this magician does,’ she urged. Again, he gently batted her away. ‘Give me a second, Mum, I’m in the middle of something.’

The woman turned out to be Chris Martin’s mum! I’d had no idea at all. His mum all but dragged me under his nose, insisting that Chris check out my magic. Chance had favoured me once again. Eventually, Chris turned his attention towards me. I knew that I had about a five-second window before he’d lose interest, so I performed one quick card levitation and went to leave. But Chris was suddenly on his feet. ‘Wait, wait,’ he insisted, ‘that was amazing, you have to show the band!’ Within seconds, I was surrounded by the whole of Coldplay and Gwyneth. I had a very impressed Chris Martin smiling down at me. ‘F*** me, this kid’s good,’ he grinned.

My heart swelled. We had another piece of killer footage for
Underground Magic
. Thanks Chris’s mum!

SHOWING SNOOP AND
Chris my magic taught me to never give up on a situation – no matter how impossible it might appear. You have to watch for the random opportunities and take them – you don’t know who that woman in a small room away from the main action may turn out to be! The door you open might lead to a friendly support act, willing to help out. It might also bring you to the head of security and before you know it, you’re out on your ear. But hey, you win some, you lose some.

I think the fact that I can do magic certainly puts me at an advantage. Entertainers perform all over the world and by the time they’re famous they’ve seen it all. It’s probably very rare that they witness something that genuinely amazes them. Magic is still only really practised by comparatively few people. If everyone did, it wouldn’t be magic. There are lots of rappers, footballers, singers, actors, but you can only really count on two hands the names of magicians who dominate their field. When I meet a rapper or singer, they are usually pleasantly surprised that I’m not another kid trying to get a record deal. I’m just there to perform for them, surprise them, and offer a different perspective on their day. Even for the most jaded of performers, magic can be reinvigorating. They don’t know what I’m going to do, and so they’re even more amazed when I perform some magic and absolutely smash it.

It’s funny that, over the years, I’ve always managed to get introduced to people, but on the whole it all happens very naturally. A lot of people have commented that – I don’t know if this is a weird thing for me to say – I have some sort of magnetism. I think that it’s because I’ve never been someone to want something from other people. I go and perform, but I don’t expect anything in return. I’ve always just wanted to share my gift.

I suppose being a cheeky so-and-so with a fair bit of northern charm, wit and humour doesn’t hurt much either. My nan always said I had a sunny disposition. I’ve always had that little bit of cheekiness about me because I had to, otherwise I’d have been done for on the estate. I definitely picked up the entrepreneurial side from Gramps and possibly my dad. Plus, most of the people I saw around the estate were always hustling a little bit. That spirit of making things happen for yourself has surrounded me for as long as I can remember.

LOOKING BACK, IT
feels like quite a journey from being in hospital to making
Underground Magic
. It was the beginning of my success as a magician: I was featured on the cover of
The Guardian Guide, The Sun
wrote a feature on me, and, not long after, Channel 4 approached me to make a one-off special,
Dynamo’s Estate of Mind
, while MTV soon followed suit with
Barrio 19
– a programme that showcased street talents around the world.

I honestly don’t know how things would have worked out if I hadn’t had that serious operation. It really was a life-changing moment. Maybe I’d still be doing magic, maybe I wouldn’t. But I do know for certain that being in the hospital filled me with a desire to achieve that hadn’t been there before. I had always
been driven, but after hospital I had never been more determined, more focused.

My Crohn’s is a lot more manageable now. I might be in pain every day, but I hardly ever get hospitalised. I used to be in hospital every few weeks, but I haven’t had a flare-up for a couple of years at least. My last downfall was a bag of popcorn at my local cinema. I woke up the next day in devastating pain. Dan rang an ambulance and I was in hospital for two weeks. Since then, touch wood, I haven’t had to go back.

When I’m performing, adrenalin kicks in and masks any pain. The magic takes it away and I forget everything: the pain, discomfort, my worries and troubles. Magic literally makes everything vanish.

In some ways, I feel weirdly thankful for my Crohn’s – it gave me the jolt-start I needed. Given the choice, of course, I’d rather not have it, as I’d love to be able to lead a normal, pain-free life. But dealing with it has given me inner strength and I have never let it hold me back. It gave me the focus to realise that I could do anything I set my mind to. Anything.

CHAPTER 7

OUT OF THE REALM OF NORMALITY

AS I STRAIGHTENED
my tie, I took a good, long, hard look in the mirror. Staring back at me was a twenty-one-year-old guy with total disbelief in my eyes. ‘
How did this happen?
’ I thought to myself. It was 2005 and all the effort I’d put into making my
Underground Magic
DVD had paid off. We had pressed 5,000 copies and within a few weeks each and every one had been sold. Dan got all of his mates to help us pack and post them.

Now, in recognition of my success, I’d been invited to a Prince’s Trust event at Clarence House – the Prince of Wales’ official residence. I was going to meet royalty – Prince Charles – in the flesh. It was unbelievable. Getting ready in the tiny flat in Walthamstow, north-east London, that I was now paying £50 a week to share, I reflected on how life might have been if I’d been born into royalty rather than on an estate.

Ever since I received the loan from The Prince’s Trust, I’ve been heavily involved with a lot of the events they organise. But my first visit to Clarence House, which is where many of the functions are held, will always be my most memorable. When you are invited to Clarence House to meet Prince Charles, you are scrupulously checked over beforehand. At the entrance, you are
given a thorough search by big burly guards before you can enter the grounds, then once you’re finally in you get whisked straight to the library.

Built in the early nineteenth century, Clarence House is awe-inspiring. The exterior is all towering pillars and imposing wrought-iron gates. Inside, there are sweeping staircases, a library heaving with books and priceless artworks on the perfectly wallpapered walls. Now that I’ve been more than once, I take the opportunity to notice the finer details. A couple of years ago, Kevin Spacey showed me the first-edition of Shakespeare’s
Richard III
, while original paintings by British masters like Graham Sutherland and Augustus John are displayed on the walls. The tea is, needless to say, served in the best china.

It’s like going to a museum. I’ve visited Clarence House twice now and I still feel the thrill of exploring such a different environment. But that first time was particularly strange. It was so odd to see all these people socialising in such a formal place – they were drinking, laughing and chatting, and seemed so confident and relaxed. But, Dan and I felt really out of place and quite awkward. This world seemed as familiar to me as life on Mars. My tie was tight around my neck and my suit felt suffocating.