A retired police officer encouraged him to do it, but it was not something in which he was particularly interested .The policeman, a rotund, avuncular, red faced man with a glued-on, symmetrical haircut under the name of Uncle Percy, ran a little shop in London that sold conjuring tricks and items for the performing arts. An adolescent interest in magic secured for Sebastian a job, helping in the establishment, learning the secrets of the art of legerdemain and meeting the magicians who regularly called in for a chat or some silk handkerchiefs..It was his idea of Nirvana. Not that his father approved as he intended that his son should get a proper job but extended temporary approval until such time as His Majesty called him for two years service for his country

As well as selling top hats, magic wands that collapsed in your hand, trick boxes, feather flowers, funny snakes, spring sausages, packs of playing cards and ventriloquist’s dolls, Uncle Percy used to accept bookings every Saturday to entertain children with a 300 year-old Italian art involving a certain Signor Punchinello. Standing hidden inside a striped, canvas phone booth he would place a fabric glove on his hand, made to look like a man with a hump back and a big nose and in his mouth he would place a small piece of tin wrapped around a disc of linen that would deliver a squawk like a startled parrot. Being hidden inside the booth this gave the illusion that it was the little man with the big nose talking in a strangled voice.

Uncle Percy was a Punch and Judy man.

He was very good at this ancient form of entertainment that brought him many invitations to display his art to children all over London on a Saturday afternoon. So much so he couldn’t keep up with the demand for his puppetry skills. One day he said “Sebastian, why don’t you go out in my place and do my Punch and Judy show?”

“No thank you” replied the aspiring Paul Daniels “I want to do magic; I don’t like Punch and Judy. Besides, I don’t know how to do it and I haven’t got a striped booth and the Punch and Judy figures. But thanks all the same”.

Uncle Percy, a wise and far seeing man accepted the refusal but made a mental note to raise the question again at a later date. Two weeks later he said “Sebastian, I’ve got two parties to do in ten days time and I don’t want to turn them down. Would you help me?”

“But I don’t know how to do it and I haven’t got any of the props”

Percy sensed his moment. “I tell you what. I’ll teach you in the next few days and I’ll give you everything you need – the striped booth and the Punch and Judy figures and you can pay me £5.00 out of your wages each week” 

The idea of extra income overcame the fear of learning an unknown art and Sebastian said “OK”

And that is when little Sebastian Willoughby first put his hand up inside a Punch and Judy figure and was initiated into the 300 year-old Italian art of Punchinello.

This was the opening chapter of a story I once started to write but lost the buzz to continue. I thought the opening line was very good – always essential to any story. But perhaps one day.

John Derris