On Sunday, Son and I went into that London to see Penn & Teller at the Hammersmith Apollo… or the Eventim Apollo, as it is now called.

It was magic.

But, as good and as enjoyable as it was, I must say that I didn’t feel this show was as good as when I saw them there a few years ago.

Their tricks were clever and were delivered in the usual entertaining way, by these two guys who have been doing this for fifty years now.

But they didn’t wow me… not like they have previously.

Don’t get me wrong: they were brilliant and funny and entertaining.

But I missed getting wowed.

Maybe because many of the tricks were re-worked ones that I’ve seen them do before.

Or maybe paying fifteen quid for two pints of lager in plastic cups, had upset my sensibilites.

Or maybe having to go through airport-style security, with body checks and scanners to step through, had rankled me. I mean, what sort of society are we now living in, that one has to have a body search before being allowed in to see a show?

Perhaps having to drive down because the trains were still not running – even when they’re not out on bloody strike – had already put me in a bit of a mood.

Or maybe it was the stationary traffic on the M25 that caused me to be pissed off. I sit in traffic every bloody morning during the week and now I have to do it on a Sunday as well?  Jeez!

Sorry, P&T: you’d have had to perform a couple of literal miracles on Sunday (preferably, new ones), to have got my astonishment senses tingling again.