Most famous people don’t care
where you take them for
lunch. Noel Gallagher did.
As far as fine dining was
concerned, the High Flying
Bird was after low-hanging fruit, preferably
well fermented. He insisted we go to stalwart
fish’n’fashion spot J Sheekey in London’s
Covent Garden, mainly because “the
post-matinee theatre crowd don’t give a fuck
who you are or how much Champagne you
drink before 3pm”. When you’re a rock star,
nothing tastes as good as inconspicuous
drunken behaviour feels, I guess.
Agent Provocateur model and cookbook
author Daisy Lowe (true story) was mildly
fussed about our meal, showing an
unbridled, yet somewhat surprising,
epicurean enthusiasm. Lowe ordered such a
variety of food and booze that, some hours
later, I went home and threw up Sexy Fish’s
prettiest, priciest offerings all over the
bathroom floor. My five-year-old daughter
thought I’d murdered a mermaid.
For magician Dynamo (real name Steven
Frayne), however, what he eats is a question
of life and death. My first suggestion was
Norma, a shiny new Italian spot in London’s
Fitzrovia; the sort of place you might take
Gigi Hadid on a (second) date and feed
her gold forkfuls of aubergine parmigiana
while nodding along to her theory about
empowering women through a subscription-
based sudoku league for flexitarians. (The
dishes on Norma’s menu look delicious, but
sound about as rich as Jeff Bezos slow-
cooked in liquid bullion.)
“Can we try somewhere where the food is
a little... simpler?” came the response from
Frayne’s press team when Norma was muted.
Of course, being the hungry, sieve-brained
narcissist I am, I’d entirely forgotten about
the magician’s serious medical condition: he’s
had Crohn’s – a disease affecting the gut that
can lead to excruciating bowel problems and
crippling joint pain – since the age of 14.
Two years ago, a bout of food poisoning
nearly made Frayne perform his very last
vanishing act. “I can’t really eat anything,”
he tells me from behind a plate of food thecolour of most Midwestern Donald Trump
supporters. We’ve come to Mother Mash,
a pie’n’mash restaurant off Carnaby Street
where bland is guaranteed. One of his team
arrives early – much like advance security
for a member of the royal family – to chat to
the kitchen staff and ensure the restaurant is
aware of the risks.
“No butter, no fried foods, no vegetables,
no spices, no nuts – nothing high in fibre,” he
adds, smiling nervously, lifting a spoonful of
pureed potato before lowering it
again. “I have to be incredibly
careful. My last Crohn’s flare-up
meant I was hit with terrible
arthritis – it wracked my entire
body... my spine and hands
completely seized up. The doctor
told me I would never be able to
do magic again; I couldn’t even
pick up a deck of cards...”
“Alexa, what was it Nietzsche
said?” Alexa: “Without music,
life would be a mistake.” “No, the other thing
Nietzsche said.” Alexa: “That which does not
kill us makes us stronger.” That’s it. The
saying might as well be tattooed across
Frayne’s chest, so resilient and driven is he.
“When I was in hospital, I knew I had to
dig deep or the illness would kill me,” he
explains, nervously eyeing the potato puree
that will remain untouched. “The reason I
became a magician was because I was beingbullied at school. I had no friends, my dad
was in prison for most of my adult life... The
bullies at school used to dump me in wheelie
bins, upside down, and then push the bin
down these two hills in Bradford called ‘The
Tits’. One day, my grandfather saw them
do it and, once I’d straightened myself out,
he showed me something that he thought
would help: a magic trick. Well, more like
a piece of contortion. Watch...”
Frayne then turns his left hand towards me
and twists and bends his little finger until it
resembles a piece of fusilli pasta. Ugh! “Cool,
huh? Once I’d mastered it, I showed the kids
at school and they thought I was a freak.”
Understandable. “But the bullying stopped.
That was my first connection with feeling
the transformative power of magic.”
This month, Frayne returns to our screens
after a five-year hiatus with a three-part
series called Beyond Belief. “It’s part-magic
show, part-documentary about my struggle
with my illness – something I’d never planned
on being so open about,” he says. Does he
ever get bored of being stopped in the street
and asked the lottery numbers? “Never.
A magician who’s bored of magic is in the
wrong game – go and become a lawyer.”
And with that, Frayne pulls
out a deck of cards, performs a
little light “cardistry” – the art
of dancing the pack between
all ten fingers, making the
viewer feel as though they’re
caught in a Christopher Nolan
film – and says, “Pick a card.”
Don’t ask me to explain what
happens next. Slight of hand?
Teleportation? Mentalism? No.
Idea. Suffice to say, part of me
suddenly realises why Debbie McGee hung
around Paul Daniels for quite so long.
Magic – the power of apparently influencing
events using mysterious or supernatural forces- is... well, magic, isn’t it? One doesn’t need to
be Carlos Ghosn to appreciate that. G
IllustrationsDYNAMO: BEYOND BELIEFONE AND NOW TV. MOTHER MASH, 26 GANTON STREET, AIRS THIS SPRING ON SKY Anton Emdin; Zohar Lazar
LONDON W1. 020 7494 9644. MOTHERMASH.CO.UKVERDICT Pie ★★✩✩✩ Mash ★★★✩✩ Gravy ★★✩✩✩ Magic ★★★★★ Chat ★★★★★ Verdict ★★★★✩‘ I was told I
would never
be able to do
magic again; I
couldn’t even
pick up a
deck of cards’Jonathan Heaf Is...#OTLTalking tricks over treats, the magician lays his cards on the tableThis month with Dynamo04-20OutToLunch_3351760.indd 228 24/01/2020 11:46