An Open Letter to David Blaine

David Blaine

An Open Letter to David Blaine

Dear David,

I wanted you to know that I came to see you today. It was a beautiful sunny day, the river was sparkling and the crowds passed you and the fences that have been erected to protect you from the "egg throwing mob". All of whom seemed strangely calm as they waved or chatted amongst themselves, not at all like the blood hungry masses I had expected when I chose to wear my bullet proof vest. In fact, they were seemingly as bemused as me by this whole 'not eating' thing. I hate to say it David, but where is the skill? Where is the showmanship? Being frozen in ice was kinda cool, and standing on a pole was clearly possessed of skill, but 'not eating' is not skillful, it is just odd.

I realise that you are probably peckish and so I won't discuss ice cream, burgers or chocolate. I myself have just enjoyed a delicious toasted egg bagel washed down with a strawberry and banana smoothie, and I don't want you to feel hungry. Heaven forbid. You are only about half way into your latest 44 day stunt. You have a long way still to go; and I know that the vicious, nasty rumours (no doubt cooked up by the evil English Press) that you are considering jacking it in early, because you are starting to have recurring dreams about bacon sandwiches are just plain nonsense.

I watched you from afar today David, and felt compelled to write you this letter. I am English David. But I assure you that I am not evil and I do care. Ok. So, I freely admit that if a member of my family started to defecate into a nappy, refused to come out of a cupboard, and chose not to eat or wash for 44 days that I might be tempted to have a heart to heart chat with them - rather then hand over money to watch the live broadcast of their efforts. But then, I am English, and I am probably missing the point.

I remember the man you were. The levitations, the tricks, burying yourself alive. You're not lacking in ideas David. In fact I think you are a visionary in many ways. The world needs big thinkers. Big ideas. Big stunts. And you have provided some of the very best. Unfortunately, this isn't one of them. The American Press apparently think we English are being cynical. Sorry David. Not guilty. You are the cynical one for thinking the strong silent treatment and creepy messianic air would wash for 44 days, even if you did not. It's not that we are cynical, just that we want at least a small idea of what the point of it all is? You are the one with the camera in the box selling the live feed on the web. You are the one who sold the tv rights to the extravaganza. You are the one jotting down the exciting missives that will no doubt shortly be appearing as a book. Sell us a t-shirt David. Sell us the merchandise. Don't be cynical. We need this stuff!

Be reassured though David that we are glad you came. You are a talking point. A beacon of the possible. I chatted to other onlookers who were gazing longingly up at you, trying to absorb some of your magic. And whilst we waited with baited breath for you to scratch your nose, we came up with a list of potential stunts for the future.