IT'S A BIRD... IT'S A BLAINE?
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When David Blaine first appeared on telly he was great - a bit like Paul Daniels but nicer to look at, and with a voice that is only 92% annoying, compared to Paul's 98%.

And most of his tricks were kind of cool: magicking cards inside sealed beer bottles - hey!; resurrecting flies - woah! Levitating in the street - nah! Even if he seemed to concentrate his efforts mostly on duping the easily-dupable (celebrities; Americans), he
was still pretty good at his game.

Blaine is now a magic superstar and, as is the way when stardom arrives, he’s made friends with Leonardo diCaprio, dated a few models, come through drug addiction and gone nuts. From September 5th we, via the magical forces of Sky Television and Channel 4, will be party to the awesome spectacle of Blaine 'suspended 25ft above the Thames in a Plexiglas box for 44 days with no food' attempting to preserve himself from the snapping, gnashing jaws of death - all while trying not to crap himself in public.

Blaine reckons he’ll lose nearly three stone during his ‘feat’ and from a six-day fast beforehand, designed to keep his bowels clear before he dangles day and night in front of the chattering masses. But just in case the unwelcome happens, he’s taking a bunch of nappies up with him. Lovely. Another TV first our lives would be richer without...

‘So why do it?’ someone asks. David thinks for a moment: ‘I have to do it. I have no choice... I think of it as art. I'm a framed human being. I'm basically building a glass frame and putting myself there to display what I think is the ultimate work of art,
which is human suffering.’ Yeah?  Try shutting your balls in a car door if you want human suffering, you fuckhead.

Blaine (in his eternal quest to 'keep it real') says he thinks the idea of taking his magic to Vegas and making lots of money for making snow leopards disappear à la Siegfried and Roy is ‘gross’, yet when you get to the homepage of his official website, the only things you can do there are sign up for an email newsletter to keep abreast of Blaine’s events, shows and ‘new merchandise’ or be directed to Amazon to order his book.

Ker-ching!

There’s no reason why the self-indulgent actions of an arrogant little prick like Blaine should hold any interest for anyone. There’s nothing to be gained from what he’s going to do - except, of course, a lot of media attention for a man who clearly feeds off it while feigning an air of irritated disinterest.

Having watched him encase himself in ice in Times Square for two-and-a-half days and pose at the top of a 100ft pole in a Manhattan Park for another one-and-a-half, it seems his own people have had their fill of his ‘hey, everyone, look at me, I'm so goddamn hard’ take on magic. So now he’s hopped across the pond to us and - you know what, David - we don't want you either.

Not when we’ve still got Paul Daniels and The Lovely Debbie McGee.

‘Say yes Paul.’

‘Yes Paul.’
...

(David Blaine hasn’t even got any decent catchphrases. How about: 'Kick me in the face' or 'I am a total cunt'...? Yes, that could work. Someone should suggest it to him).