Nothing Is Impossible: The Real-Life Adventures of a Street Magician (2 page)

For my very first television series, I wanted to do something iconic. It was vital that I captured the hearts of the nation. I had one shot to communicate and connect with people – fail, and I would be back in my hometown of Bradford, making ends meet with my street magic. Succeed, and I would take a giant leap towards being among the great entertainers of our time. I knew that if I was to make my name in the competitive field of magic, then I had to do something huge. Until relatively recently, the idea of walking on the moon was as inconceivable as walking on water. I wanted – needed – to prove that with hard work, determination and a little bit of magic, nothing was impossible.

I’d joked with my manager and close friend, Dan Albion, for years about walking across the Thames. I always said that if I ever got my own TV programme I would walk on water. And now, what seemed like the impossible had happened. I had my own show and I had to live up to my word.

I continued on. The water rippling under my soles. The crowd cheering. My knees knocking… Normally, when I’m nervous, I touch my tummy. But, given the importance of keeping my concentration at that particular moment in time, I managed to resist the urge. I swallowed my fear, steadied my nerves and carried on. Determination gripped every cell of my being and I
took another step and another. And then I heard the roar of a speedboat engine and the flash of a blue light came into my peripheral vision…

It was my intention to walk the entire width of the Thames (a mere 826.8ft), but unfortunately the police had other ideas. I was in the zone at that point – adrenalin was coursing through my system and I was intently focused on reaching the other side of the river. So my memories are a blur of the actual moment I got picked up and dropped into the police boat. They put me on the floor and I could hear them asking me questions, but it wasn’t computing. I was just so caught up in the moment that I had no idea what they were saying to me. ‘What were you thinking? Are you all right?’ they shouted, as they tried to figure out who I was and what I was doing. Luckily, there’s no law against walking across the Thames and they let me go. I guess they’d never imagine a law was needed!

They took me back to the riverbank. I went home, texted my Gramps (‘
I’ve just walked across the River Thames, it was amazing!
’), and then wrapped myself in warm towels and fell into a deep sleep.

It didn’t hit me properly until a few days later and I started to see the coverage on the TV news and in the newspapers. On 25 June 2011, I like to think that, in some way, I created history. I’d done what I’d set out to achieve. I’d brought a feeling of wonder and amazement to the people. I’d proved the power magic has. For as long I can remember, all I have wanted to do is amaze people; to take away the stress of everyday life – if only for a minute – and show them something truly astonishing.

Ultimately I had showed that you really can do something that is seen as impossible by others – even if I had ruined a great pair of trainers in the process.

Walking across the River Thames was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. But sometimes you’ve got to go for your dreams, no matter what the risk. It’s better to try and to fail than it is to fail to try.

I’ve gone from being an insecure kid growing up on the Delph Hill estate in Bradford to travelling around the world, meeting people from all walks of life, sharing the most wondrous thing I know: the power of magic. Now, I want you to join me on the ride.

This book is about my life, sure, but it’s also more than that. It’s about how determination and hard work can change anyone’s life. I hope it will provide inspiration and that the lessons I’ve learnt will help you on your life’s journey. For this reason, I haven’t written it in the usual chronological way – I’ve organised the chapters around places that have been important to me, and sometimes I will jump back and forward in time when a certain location brings back memories. I like to keep it playful, keep you guessing, and to shuffle things around like a deck of cards – just like I do in my magic. The world-renowned American magician and pickpocket Apollo Robbins once told me that the best magic isn’t linear – it doesn’t follow straight lines. I can only agree, and I have been influenced by this idea in the writing of these chapters.

This book really is about proving to you that nothing is impossible. It’s about showing that whatever you want to achieve, you can make it happen. For me, magic has been my path – maybe it could be yours too? After all, everyone needs a little magic in their life…

CHAPTER 1

A MAGICAL AWAKENING

‘COME ON STEVEN
, get in the bin,’ the boy cackled as his brother lumbered towards me. For a second, I almost gave in. I’d been in that dustbin so many times it was almost my home away from home. The younger brother, let’s call him ‘Paul’, and his older sibling, ‘Ben’, would pick me up, and as I struggled against their grip, they would force me inside. Thanks to my small frame, I was no match for the two of them. Then, once I was cowering inside the stinking plastic, they’d kick the bin and off I’d go, tumbling down what we called The Tits. They were two hills next to each other in the school grounds that were shaped like… well, you can probably guess. Inside, I’d feel every bump and pothole as I rattled around inside that bin, my pointy elbows banging into the sides, my ankles and knees twisting and turning. But the worst pain was the fear I felt deep inside me. My chest would constrict so tightly, I could barely breathe, but that feeling was something I slowly became used to. I was rolled down those hills so often I could have mapped out every rock and stone.

Being thrown down a hill in a rubbish bin wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. The bins always stank of old nappies and mouldy sandwiches and I would hear Paul and Ben’s jeers as they ran behind it. Careering down the hill towards school,
everyone would laugh as the bin picked up speed. A car or kerb would bring me to an abrupt halt. Dizzy and disorientated, I’d crawl out, ashamed and embarrassed, new bruises joining my old ones.

On that day, though, things were different. I didn’t want to get in that stupid bin any more. I was fed up with being humiliated. As Paul towered over me, I made a decision. ‘Pick me up then,’ I said to him. Without questioning, he put his hands under my armpits and lifted me off the ground with ease, as always. ‘Now put me down and I’ll show you something. Go on,’ I pleaded, ‘I want to show you something amazing.’ Reluctantly, he dropped me back on the pavement. ‘OK. Try again,’ I murmured, steadily fixing my eyes on his. This time, he couldn’t move me. He tried and tried, grunting and sweating, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pick me up, no matter how hard he tried.

I had taken away all of his strength. ‘How did you do that? Show us,’ the brothers begged, exasperated. I just smiled, picked up my bag and walked down the hill to school.

I don’t know where Paul and Ben are now. Last I heard, one of them was a nightclub bouncer and the other had apparently been murdered. Who knows? When you’re from the kind of place I’m from, not much is expected of you. If you grew up on the Delph Hill estate, more often than not you ended up on the dole or inside. The only time people round my way got near royalty were when it was at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.

Standing up to Paul and Ben that day would change my life forever. I might not have known it at the time, but over the coming years, millions of people would watch me perform the same magic as I had that day, aged twelve, when I finally beat the bullies…

I WAS BORN
Steven Frayne, but nowadays most people call me Dynamo. I came into the world very quickly; my mum arrived at Bradford Royal Infirmary at 22.50 and I was born twenty minutes later, at 23.10 on 17 December 1982. I’ve been in a rush to get on with things ever since.

I was born six weeks premature, so I had to go straight into an incubator for twelve hours to get warmed up. I was super-tiny, just a couple of pounds, so they kept me in hospital for three weeks, until I weighed 4lb 15oz.

Because I was so small my mum had to feed me non-stop, every hour or so. When I was finally allowed out of hospital, she brought me home to the modest maisonette where I would live for the first five years of my life. The flat only had three rooms, and it was winter so it was absolutely freezing. Because I was so tiny and my mum was worried about me getting cold, she’d have the heating on full blast and would wrap me head to toe in a blanket, coat, scarf, hat and mittens. My granddad still jokes that that’s the reason I’m so small – my mum shrunk me when I was a baby!

Money was tight when I was a kid. I was the oldest of four; my sister Jessica and my two little brothers Troy and Lee came along later. But they don’t have the same dad as me. While it was just me and Mum she would always do whatever she could to make sure I felt loved and cared for. When I was four, she said I could have a birthday party. I was so excited. I invited all of my school friends from Hill Top, the local primary school that was a short walk from where we lived in the Laisterdyke council flats, on the Delph Hill estate. All Mum could afford for my birthday present was a six-pack of Kinder Eggs – but she had scrimped and saved to create a wonderful birthday spread for me: sandwiches, crisps, sweets and a birthday cake with four candles.

On the day, I waited and waited by the front door, running into the living room to look out of the window, craning to see the arrival of my friends. Minutes went by, then an hour, then two hours. No one came. Eventually, my mum gently told me that my friends weren’t coming. A couple of the mums had rung with feeble excuses, but the truth was, they were too scared to come to the estate. I can’t blame the parents for not wanting to bring their kids to our flat. Hill Top was a nice school with nice middle-class children. The thought of visiting Delph Hill, with its tower blocks and hooded teenagers, was probably pretty scary. I wasn’t surprised to hear that the Laisterdyke flats were knocked down a few years ago. Even back in the eighties, they were rough and really run-down.

I was so disappointed I can still feel that lump in my throat now. I half-heartedly ate my Kinder Eggs, taking the toys to bed with me. I hated birthdays for years after that. Even now when I have a birthday or a launch party, I always worry that no one will turn up.