dressed as a waiter and had a white-clothed table on stage, immaculately laid out as for a banquet, complete with bottles and bowls of fruit. He produced musical sounds from each item on display, skipping from one to the other, squeezing piping notes from oranges and apples, whistling down knives and forks, treating groups of wine bottles as a xylophone, revealing the hidden harmonica in a lamb chop. I was impressed not only by the complex dashing to and fro his act demanded, but also by the fact that he was always on-stage a good hour before he was due to go on, to make sure no one disturbed his meticulously positioned table layout.
The magician, rendered similarly nameless by my faltering memory, who would mutter admiringly to himself throughout his fairly run of the mill act, expressing astonishment at his own skills every time he completed a trick. He was also a favourite with Tony Hancock, who recalled hearing him murmur, after completing an elementary ‘disappearing an egg from a black velvet bag’ effect, ‘The man must be in league with the Horned One, a follower of the Left Hand Path.’
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