Goodbye sweet friend.

So tonight Derren Brown's Russian Roulette, according to one source at least, became the world's third greatest magic trick.
I have a tangible connection to that event so if you ever meet me, ask me about it.

We all have to have our heroes.
But what is a hero but someone who changes you uniquely, perhaps even in a singular swipe, who scars you like the Mark of Zorro.
I'm not going to go on because in seven minutes this is last year's news.
But one of the individuals I referenced in my recent slightly-too-long poem was one Hans Morretti.
And he played a little Russian roulette too - haven't we all?

You might like to take a look at it...

and when you've done that he might like to take a look at what follows.
The nervous trumpeter only adds to the tension...pour yourself a glass of wine and if you don't cheer at the end, I'll give you your money back.

Because the charm of a hero is making the extraordinary look mundane (you might want to sip leisurely during the first half) and then make it extraordinary again, or the very least slightly charming.
If I love what Hans Morretti does, does that mean I love him? Or is that the High Cock talking (a Christmas present a little like a tawny port - thanks Tone).

But I think there is an answer.
Christopher Hitchens died this year, and we lost another infantryman.
His final advice was to write to those whom you admire.
So I'm going to write to Hans Moretti.
I'll let you know how I get on.

What are you going to do?