Friday, December 29, 2017

ONE , TWO , THREE ...


An Alternative Christmas Carol 
with apologies to Charles Dickens ,,, a keen amateur magician



“Could be good though, Eb …Couldn’t it ? ”
Eb Scrooge looked at his partner with disbelief, not least because he had been dead these ten years past. “ Y-y-you're not real … are you? ” he found himself saying.

“ l don’t know,”  Jake Marley retorted “ A lifetime in magic and you ask me that ? C’mon Eb , think about it … you and me … the old partnership back together …. No more phoney mentalism …
a partner who can really walk through walls ?”

“ I -I- I …” Eb Scrooge was lost for words . The figure before him looked like Jake Marley, apart from , what were they , chains or something that he was carrying. He knew this couldn’t really be happening , but it felt the business.

“Just kidding, Eb” Jake laughed “ I’m working on an escapology routine and its taking an eternity to master …” He rattled the chains to emphasise that he was well and truly shackled.

Eb looked at the chains but before he could speak, Jake said “ Don’t ask … we don’t have all night. I’m here to help you find your Mojo."

It was true. Eb Scrooge was tired. Two weeks from Christmas and where was he ?
Where indeed ? Premier Inn , of course, but it could have been anywhere. He felt as if he had been everywhere this year and most of his nights were spent in rooms identical to this , and in all of this time he hadn’t once met Lenny Henry.He had chuckled to himself earlier as he poured himself a beer . “ I could put that in the act ” he thought.

Oh , he couldn’t grumble . He’d managed to keep going after the sad loss of his partner.
“ I re-invented myself, didn’t I ”  he told the glass “ Found a new market … or two ... or three”.
He chuckled again.


Scrooge and Marley had been great. Comedy Illusionists. Had their own TV show for a while, but they never stopped working. When Jake Marley died suddenly , it all stopped.
Nobody wanted half an act. Particularly the half that wasn’t funny

Eb was the clever one. The brains of the outfit. “ Common Knowledge” Eb thought “ I guess I just didn’t have the X factor ”. He laughed out loud at this.

He’d worked hard , though. He’d tried for a while to re-engineer the act for solo performance.
Quart into a pint pot … standard magic stuff . He even tried using a vent dummy for a while but he just didn’t have enough hands free for the magic . On the plus side , the audiences saw the funny side and for a while the dummy was in great demand.

He’d written a couple of books , one for the mass audience , funny stories about being one half of the nation’s favourite magic act , and a more technical volume for fellow magicians.  
Both were well received , and he was generally in demand on TV chat shows , celebrity game shows and at magic conventions. He did occasional live shows ...and he always took the dummy.

Tonight had been a live show , and it was his last engagement of the year. The audience had been warm. They laughed in the right places , and applauded the magic reverently.
But he was tired. The old routines were just that , old and routine and he took little real pleasure in them.

He had settled down to watch an old movie on TV just before Jake Marley appeared.
There was no flash or puff of smoke. Jake was just there , grinning as he always had, goading him…


“ I’d like a volunteer from the audience” he said, looking around the hotel room“ how about you sir ?”  Eb shook his head and laughed. This was completely ridiculous, but he found himself raising his hand ...
“ Thank you sir, step right this way” said Jake , waving him towards the bathroom , as best he could with his hands full of chains.

Where the bathroom door should have been , there was now a frame containing three full size doors , numbered 1 , 2 and 3 . The numbers were large and glittery. Behind the frame there appeared to be nothing but the bathroom door itself.

“ I’d like you to pick a number between 1 and 3 “ Jake continued “ Any number … totally free choice … today if possible “

Eb wasn’t sure what was going on , but decided to choose 3.

“ Do you want to change your mind , sir ?”

“ No , I’m happy with number 3” he confirmed.

Jake clanked steadily around the back of the frame and when he got to the front , he opened door number 3.

Eb watched as the door swung open. It appeared darker through the doorway , so he moved forward , then he stepped through the doorway with a little push from Jake.

When his eyes adjusted , he realised they  appeared to be in the wings of a Victorian theatre.
The building and stage was lit with gas lamps. In the gloom of the auditorium , he could make out faces , men , women all formally dressed. A packed house.

On stage , although he could not hear , a magician in full top hat and tails was gesticulating and waving a large silk banner. Suddenly the banner was gone and a large elephant stood in the middle of the stage. The magician bowed. The audience rose to their feet and applauded enthusiastically.
“ I always envied these big illusions” Eb said , wistfully “ We did OK , but we never did the really big stuff … never got that kind of applause ”

“Times were different … people were different ...those were the days when EVERYONE talked about the elephant in the room” Jake replied.


Suddenly they were back in the room and Jake was saying “ Those big shows , needed lots of people , who needed to be in on the secret.. I always preferred to be self contained”

“ It gets lonely after a while …” Eb said.

Jake clanked his chains again “ Sorry,moving on signal” he said “ Which number do you want next ?”

Just to be awkward he picked number 1.

Jake leaned forward and opened the door. Again it was dark through the frame.  As they stepped through , Eb sensed they were outside. He wasn’t sure where. There were modern street lights and a cobbled road surface. In the distance , Eb could hear faint music and voices , some laughter. He assumed they were on the edge of some kind of leisure complex.

Suddenly , he was aware of footsteps approaching quickly , as if running. A group of young people ran past them breathlessly and realised they had turned into a dead end.
He didn’t think they could see either Jake or himself. As they caught their breath in the alleyway , a silhouette appeared at the open end of the alley. A tall man , Eb thought , wearing jeans and a hoodie. For a moment , Eb wondered if there was going to be trouble.
The man strode , purposely, towards the cornered group. He held his arms out , as if to show he was unarmed , Eb wondered.
“ Can I show you some magic ? “ he said quietly …

Eb didn’t see the magic. He was back on the edge of his bed in the hotel.

“ What was all that about” he exclaimed .

“ Thats the way they do it now” said Jake “ street magic … if the audience won’t come to you, you’ve got to take the magic to them”

“Where’s it going to end ?” Eb said , shaking his head

Jake smiled and pulled open door no 2.

Inside was … nothing , well not nothing , more like an empty factory building. In the middle of the room was a sign which read “ The Future of Magic” . There was no one else in the building except Eb and Jake , but behind the sign was a table and on the table was a 3D printer , whirring away , backwards and forwards , slowly creating four objects.
“How long’s this going to take ?” Eb asked
“ Time is of no consequence this side of the door … so settle down. It will take as long as it takes.”

Some while later the printer stopped whirring.

 There in front of them were three cups and a small ball …

All of this happened some time ago . It would be nice to tell you that somehow, Eb was a better man following the odd events of that evening. He wasn’t … but somehow he regained a fresh enthusiasm for his old routines … and he performs them to this day , maybe in a street close to you.

Merry Christmas One and All. 
                  

First published in Northern Lights magazine December 2017 ... courtesy of Northern Magic Circle

Saturday, October 7, 2017

When That Trumpet Plays




When That Trumpet Plays

No tide to turn here.
Quiet now these hills
where progress played
fast and loose.
Like fingered keys
weaving tales.
Not spinning.
By the parochial hall
them bones are dry

but when that trumpet plays …




Tony Noon

Friday, September 8, 2017

PIGEONS

Pigeons



























They hover like smog
as you approach.
Smiling hopefully,
like the lovelorn,
their tokens loaded.

Their lunches are not free.

Unfed daily they multiply
like pigeons after bread,
positive leaves echoing
around this precinct
like holiday promises.

But good intentions
do not hold off rain.

Tony Noon



Tuesday, July 25, 2017

BELONGING TO AIR





BELONGING TO AIR

As usual it begins with death.
Cops tearing around our quiet corner
in hot pursuit of themselves.
Across the way’s cordoned
while they chip away.
Stripping down our past
to bag and take away.

Flashback to the young trees.
We thought it was over
for the first time and
our sun shone every day.
There were windows then,
behind which Mr Walford
caned boys caught inside.
As if his classroom was hallowed.
Nothing personal.Just a belief
that boys belonged to the air
in long lunch hours
when he enjoyed barmcakes
brought daily to his desk

Across the way now
cards are marked.
Death is on the table.
More transformative,
than plain brown bread,
but with walls gone
where will our histories echo.

When this dust settles
can anything new begin.



Tony Noon

Friday, March 10, 2017

RACING TO SUMMER




RACING TO SUMMER



It is a conjuration as much as anything.

An awakening of steam commands

each fire born part of this beast

to flex and heave together,

biting hard rails as it lurches

towards us from the dank past.


Our lazy Sundays are a doddle for this giant.

Built for the long haul,

these jaunts to Hemingfield are small beer.

Stationed between punters , it dreams of the main line.


The full throttle adventure of spring fields racing to summer




Tony Noon


ONCE MORE WITH FEELING ?


Wednesday, January 25, 2017

FLIP CHART




FLIP CHART

I saw you  through the window.
Emphasising. Highlighting bullets
to fire back at elsewhere desks.
Out here the sun is setting.
Rooks gather in the high branches.
Making plans.



Tony Noon



Saturday, January 7, 2017

LOCATION




Location

I want this crisp.
A clear evocation of cars
black enough to defy light
and the waxless amalgamation
of snow and gravel
under virgin tyres.

I want to show you two men.
Outlines sharply tailored
against the thin air ;
cold breath embracing
in the space between them.

Perhaps they are trading secrets,
dividing territory ,ending wars ;
perhaps they just want to know
why they are here on this page ,
in your mind in the middle of this
martini clean sweat free winter.


Tony Noon