Two self-confessed dirty rotten scoundrels did much more than waxen twist their moustaches when they lured the unsuspecting audience into their card den of delectable deception; like the coins and cards and rules of chance and probability that they handle and possess with sublime proficiency, one is, quite literally, twisted around their little finger.
Their clipped Received Pronunciation is a deceptive device, initially masking the fact that these two quick fingered reprobates, straight from a four year mentorship with Dickens’ Fagin and the Artful Dodger, never quite finished finishing school. Another ruse by this time-travelling duo is their claim to have been the close associates of Charles Darwin. Despite chuckling along to their anecdotal quips and idiosyncratic quirks it is apparent that in this grand masquerade, that the last laugh is on the audience. In not fully comprehending all they have explained, it feels like the audience, as representative of the human race, have taken an evolutionary regressive step back. They’ll demonstrate then describe, disclosing their dark arts, before dumbfounding all over again.
This intimate setting does nothing to dispel the illusion of magic and mystery that these two honestly dishonest vagabonds weave, as the clock strikes twelve, you walk unremittingly into the bewitching hour.
