First, my monthly show Wit & Wizardry is now on year two. Fortunately I’ve developed a handful of regular fans who come back to see the show again and again. Unfortunately this means I need to be developing a brand new 30 to 50 minutes of material every month. It’s not so unfortunate, because I live for that kind of creative pressure, but in the frantic rush to get things done I often find myself learning lessons in hindsight.

Secondly, I have become an advocate for the most important skill of a professional entertainer being to DO 👏 YOUR 👏 TIME. 👏 If you’ve been asked to present a twenty-minute act, you do twenty minutes. Not fifteen, not twenty-five. Definitely not forty. Twenty. Also, if a show is advertised to end at 9:45 it is disrespectful to your audience to miss that mark. (I’m a little more flexible on that, 10 minutes leeway)

Combining these two things, I find myself presenting new routines for the first time, having only a wild guess at their running time, while having to adjust to guest performers who may, or may not, hit their time, and still pull the show into port on schedule. I need to be flexible.

Usually things are running shaggy, and I cut out my planned routines near the end, but I’m always ready to add time to the show with an emergency back-up routine.

Back to my buns. For the past three months I have been purchasing, on the way to the show, a fresh bag of dinner rolls, removing three, arranging them on a tray, and setting them backstage. After the show, I’ve been tossing them directly into the trash.

The reason being that my emergency back-up routine lately has been a signed Silk to Bun effect (inspired from Murray Hatfield’s lecture) which has not been called into service. For three months I’ve been buying buns, tossing them in the garbage, and reminding myself why this is a crummy choice for a back-up routine.

My poor decisions have pushed me to do better, and I’ve pondered upon…

You need not check off all eight points, but I think the more you can address, the easier your life gets. I might have naturally written these out in order of importance as well. The lower numbers are critical factors, while the end are nice-to-haves.

Let’s start with Silk to Bun. This scores on 4, 5, 7, and 8 but missing those first three makes it a hard no.

In a pinch I’ve used a deck of cards as my back-up. My go-to time waster is some comedy psychic schtick based on a Val Andrews idea. It scores high on practicality, but a major ding on point 6. My show is pretty well guaranteed to have another card trick in it, and the last thing I need is to bring in more.

I’ve heard that David Copperfield never does a show without a Spot Card (a.k.a. What’s Next?) near at hand to cover any delays. This scores pretty high, with two exceptions; if you have the multiplying spots finish that doesn’t re-set. I also don’t think it’s very flexible in time. Seems like a pretty strict 2-3 minutes worth of action. In David’s case it’s enough time for his team to get the problem fixed, but it won’t help me pad out a show.

There’s also a potential conflict with the rest of David’s show, in the sense that the Spot Card is so blatantly more lame than the rest of his magic. As my friend Donovan pointed out; “Alright, so I just made a gigantic space ship appear hovering above your heads, now I’ve got a card with one spot on this side…” Not a problem for us more meager magi.

Maybe The Answer Was Inside Us The Whole Time

The more I think about this the more I’m convincing myself that the best answer is not a magic trick at all. I’m thinking back to the magic books of 1890 to 1930 which are sprinkled with what they would call ‘novelty’ items.

Chalk Talks are visual jokes drawn in front of the audience with a surprising punchline. Chapeaugraphy twists a felt ring into an endless supply of hats to create eccentric characters. Puzzles and puppets and patter, oh my!

I can see myself presenting these with a genuine excitement; “hey folks, we’ve got a couple minutes to spare, lemme show you something really neat!” When it’s not magic, there’s nothing to hide, nothing to pre-set, and nothing to conflict with your regular programme. Show off the best of your “stupid human tricks” to delight the crowds.

Ultimately the most practical of all emergency routines would be just you, talking. Telling a great story, or a tight five of stand-up comedy. Currently I don’t feel I have either of those options ready for primetime, but it sure sounds like a smart idea.

So, your show is running five minutes fast… what are you gonna do?

While you’re thinking about it, here’s Billy McComb presenting with exactly the sort of relaxed vibe I imagine for my ideal emergency routine, except for the finish which requires set-up.

P.S. It just so happens that these qualifications also describe the makings of excellent material for MCs, except that the flexible timing is probably more like 1 to 3 minutes. It’s a role which requires you to adjust on the fly, filling time exactly as needed and not a minute longer.