9 May 2005
A couple of months ago, Adrian drove me mad for an entire afternoon, being cryptic about a surprise he'd arranged.
Despite my stating several times (i.e., every time Derren was on the TV) that Derren Brown freaked me out and that I'd run a mile if I was ever in the same room as him (no matter the size of the room), he booked tickets to see Derren's live show at the Hexagon in Reading, neatly circumventing any protests he knew I'd make if I'd known about it beforehand.
You see, I'm a control freak (this is probably not news to most of you), and what that tends to mean is that I get really quite stressed if I feel like I'm in a situation where I don't have control over my actions. This is also the reason why I've only been utterly off-my-face drunk once in my life.
Even the idea of being near someone like Derren, who is so very good at what he does, makes me really quite stressed. Interestingly enough, this is not the case with a very good friend of mine who makes at least part of his living doing similar things, but that's neither here nor there (or possibly an indication that my friend is better at it than Derren is...).
Anyway, this friend had been trying to persuade me to go along to a Derren show for quite a while, and I'd protested every time, on two counts:
1) I don't trust Derren as far as I could throw him (and that's not far) and I don't feel comfortable (with the idea of) being anywhere near him.
2) Knowing my luck, if I went to one of his shows, I'd wind up getting pulled out of the audience and onto the stage.
... and I was totally fine with that. I was quite happy to watch his shows on TV and be aloof and interested in what he does, and his skill in doing it.
Until Adrian bought the tickets and the wheels came off the wagon.
So, Friday night rolled round, and Adrian had had a rubbish day at work, and wasn't really up for going, and frankly, neither was I (see above), but I knew he'd spent money on getting good tickets, and it just felt wrong to let that go to waste.
Time was tight and there was an element of stress, but with the help of a taxi we made it to the Hexagon with enough time for a drink before the show started and we made our way to the seats, where were on the right hand side of the hall (facing the stage) towards the back, on the tiered area of the stalls.
The show kicked off, and it emerged that people would be chosen to participate in the show by catching a chucked monkey, at which point I relaxed. The monkey was fairly certain to only bounce around the centre section, so I was safe, and even if it did come over in our direction, I could duck it and it would go to someone else.
Easy.
Ha.
Oh, if only.
Fate, in the form of a monkey-chosen punter tasked with finding who he thought were the five best liars in the house, a cameraman and Derren, conspired against me, and 1200 people in a sold-out Hexagon got to see me swear because they panned up a few seconds after I realised that:
1) that was my cleavage taking up a fair amount of the screen on stage
and
2) Derren was saying "oh, we don't have a woman yet..."
... and before I knew it, I was out of my seat (having had to make the entire row stand up to let me out) and walking up towards the stage.
The stunt itself was fairly simple. A velvet bag, five balls (four white and one black) and five people. Everyone picks a ball, has a peek and then is told to put it in a pocket. We're all to step forward to the mic, state our name and occupation and then answer a question. The four with the white balls must lie in response to this question. The one with the black ball must tell the truth, and Derren has to figure out who has the black ball.
There was a bit of misdirection in the middle, with him making me wander across the stage so he could watch me walk (quite what he got from this I'm not sure) and then getting us all to write down the name of the person we first had a crush on and fold up the paper and put it in our pockets.
One by one the guys were called forward and despatched, until it was down to me and the bloke with the black ball, by which point I'd figured out there had been no likelihood that I was getting off the stage any earlier.
So I stepped forward and said my name and job into the mic, only it was a bit too high, and nobody understood my accent (nervousness makes me talk quickly - can't help it).
Someone helpfully shouted from the balcony asking me to repeat it in English, at which point I shrugged, said sorry and repeated myself.
... and quite honestly, I was fine being on the stage. I wasn't massively comfortable, but I was dealing with it, until Derren said that he was looking for microsignals to let him know which of us was telling the truth and which was lying, at which point my hands and legs started to shake, and I couldn't control it, and there's no way he couldn't tell it was me, because my knees were knocking and he (and everyone in the front three rows) could see my skirt shaking.
He then went behind us, waved at who he thought was who, and then stood in front of us, asking whoever had the white ball to put it in his hand.
Which I didn't.
Truth be told, I wanted to make him sweat a bit.
Then I gave in, went through with it, he shook my hand, kissed me on the cheek and I made my way as quickly as possible off the stage and back to my seat.
Sometimes, things are just inevitable, but I survived unharmed, and only mildly freaked out (well, once I'd had some thai food and half a bottle of Argentinean Pinot Grigio).
I'd still turn and walk away if I ever saw him in the street though.
It was good to see you there, Pix. And the "oh fuck" was funny.
I hope Adrian received sufficient punishment later...
Oh, and you sounded fine when saying what you did - I had no problems hearing/understanding. Just a pity there's always one jerk-off in the audience... (and for once it wasn't me!)
"so he could watch me walk"
Ohh *I* know what he got from it... dirty pervert.
Doesn't sound too arduous. Now were you trying to put him off at all?
So you didn't find out how far you could throw him?
Yeah, sorry Mum. I said the f-word in front of 1200 people. In my defence, only Adrian was supposed to hear it.
Lyle - for a second I wondered if it was you taking the piss, but then decided that it wasn't likely, and it was just some arsehole who'd had a beer too many in the bar and thought he was funny.
Gordon - Well duh... ;) and of course I was trying to put him off, but it was a bit redundant, because by the time he got to me, he'd already figured out who was telling the truth. The only distraction he was getting from me wasn't anywhere near my face!
Andy - Nope. Even given that he's a skinny wee thing, I doubt I'd be able to chuck him very far, and I wasn't really about to try - he'd probably enjoy it too much anyway :)
*big grin*
Am I supposed to have stopped enjoying this yet?
I saw Derren last year. Thought it was a thoroughly entertaining show.
Now although I am a control freak, after a fashion Derren doesn't bother me. I like to be in control of situations like planning holidays and what's going on in a relationships and what not.
Derren takes control away from me for a few minutes. I couldn't care about that. That's minor.
Also your remember me functionality doesn't work.
Stop trying to control me. :-)
That's a brilliant story.
I saw Derren Brown in Bristol a few years ago, when he was trying out his show on a smaller audience before taking it on tour...
I'd usually find this kind of thing a bit freaky - I don't like hypnotism, for example - but I really enjoyed the show. Maybe it was because he did say right from the start that it was all purely trickery, or maybe it was because it was one of my house-mates who organised us to go, and he'd been learning how to do that kind of thing, and had been practising on us (and, in part, explaining what he was doing...)
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