Chutzpah, if you didn't already realize, is a Yiddish word that has found its way into the Oxford English Dictionary. The writer Leo Rosten defines it as a word meaning the ultimate in gall, brazen nerve and effrontery. And by way of definition, claims that it is the quality enshrined in a man who, having murdered his mother and father, throws himself on the mercy of the court because he is an orphan. As it happens, there is someone I have encountered who can claim to possess this trait in spades. Allow me to elaborate.
Many years ago when our kids were considerably shorter than us, we were faced with organising a 12th birthday party for our son. In the past we'd had the usual parties in the garden or in school halls and the like, but this particular year we'd thought we'd arrange a a cricket match for the boys as our son at that time was particularly keen on the game. The weather, however, conspired against us on the day and the cricket was going to be a non-starter. In retrospect, there can be fewer more regrettable situations to find oneself in than having 16 boisterous and highly excitable twelve-year-old male birthday guests on your hands with no birthday activities or venue for them to do them in.
My wife, ever resourceful, had a brainwave. "I know. I'll call Lee. Her son Julius is a member of the Magic Circle. We'll get him to do some magic tricks in the house; I'll sort out tea; and you can organize a quiz." Two hours later, 15-year-old Julius shows up with his box of tricks and sets up, while I attempt without much luck to interest our excitable guests in my history quiz. Tea consisting of sandwiches, endless packets of crisps, lots of fizzy drinks and, of course, the obligatory birthday cake, comes as a saving grace. I'm frankly exhausted by it all. But the energy levels of the assembled throng, having fed on copious quantities of fizzy drinks is now at an all-time high and one boy in particular by the name of Daniel takes a great deal of delight in winding up everyone around him.
By the time we let them onto our magician, things are at fever pitch. But thankfully, Julius has a certain way of handling his audience.
"Ok guys. Would you mind shutting up now please. I'm going to show you some pretty cool stuff. But if you don't shut up right now I'm not going to show you anything, Ok?" And with this, the crowd calms down and Julius launches into a pretty impressive magic trick involving a pencil and a deck of cards. The boys seem captivated. The tricks continue. Coins magically disappear and reappear in strange places; a £5 note is torn in half and is then restored to its former glory; interlinked metal rings are magically pulled apart. Everything seems to be going swimmingly, until, that is, Daniel can no longer contain himself. "That's rubbish. That's not magic," he declares raucously, and for a moment the spell over the boys is broken and there are giggles and guffaws. But before things get out of hand, Julius takes control of the situation. He quite literally leaps into his audience and gets Daniel in a stranglehold and then pins him up against our wall and twists his arm behind his back. "Ok. If I hear another peep out of you I'll break your arm. Do you hear?" Daniel goes white and doesn't say a word. Julius returns to his magic table and the show continues without a hitch.
His approach, though unconventional, is very effective. But I can't help feeling responsible for Daniel and become very concerned that his parents might want to sue us for any physical and emotional harm to their son. So once all the kids have finally dispersed with their party bags and the detritus created by 16 small people is shovelled into several black bin liners, I get onto the phone to Daniel's mother. I spend what feels like several minutes apologising for the unfortunate incident involving strangleholds and bent arms and express my hope that Daniel wasn't traumatised. "Oh don't worry about that Mr Pearl. We're used to it. It's always happening to Daniel. Thank you for the party." I put the phone down with a certain relief.
I have since learnt that Julius went on to perfect his magic while doing his A levels. On one occasion at school, he apparently tore up his homework in front of his teacher and then made it magically reappear in one piece on the teacher's desk.
Now, while at university his magic has reached new heights. Julius Dein has performed for Google, Nelson Mandela, Arsenal FC, and several prestigious events attended by the likes of Russel Brand, Simon Cowell, Alan Sugar and Stephen Hawking, to name just a few.
His mother is desperately worried that he won't achieve his degree in politics with all his extra curricular activities. But if I were her, I wouldn't worry. This young man will obviously stop at nothing to hold the undivided attention of his audience, and seems destined for great things. And though he no longer resorts to strangleholds, the chutzpah is certainly in evidence. You can take a look at some of his antics here.
Alex Pearl is author of Sleeping with the Blackbirds