We don’t hear much from Uri Geller anymore. In fact we only hear from him when there’s a current news narrative to which he feels his ‘skills’ could positively affect the outcome. Happily this week was one such occasion as Uri popped up to offer his ‘services’ to his local football club Reading, who as huge underdogs were preparing to take on Arsenal in the FA Cup. He said this: “I want to invite the team to my home and show them that anything is possible, I will bend some spoons.”
Of course he will because that’s pretty much all he does. He’s the spoon bending guy, right? There is other stuff he pretends he can do but to you and me Geller is the slimy spoon bending merchant. He calls this unique ability ‘psychokinesis’, I call it ‘fucking pointless’. I can bend spoons too, I use my hands but the outcome is the same, fucked up spoons. While the greatest minds of our time are exploring bending things like time, Uri has spent fifty years bending cutlery.
Apparently he can’t actually bend the spoon back into shape afterwards either, that would actually be useful, if he could bend vast quantities of metal his skills could be invaluable in any number of industries, he could build ships, he could mine for oil but he can’t do that. Even if he could unbend things that could probably be useful too but he can’t do that either. No, his ability to bend (but not unbend) solid matter by harnessing the power of psychokinesis only works singularly and inexplicably on spoons. That’s why they call it ‘the unexplained’.
In 2007 Spoon Face bent some of his spoons before the disbelieving eyes of the United Kingdom’s Eurovision Song Contest hopefuls, Scooch. It almost worked too, but agonisingly they came in 22nd out of 24.
His Wikipedia page makes for an interesting read. It basically lists all his feats, hastily followed by all the explanations of how it all was bollocks. He could stop clocks and speed them up again, except he couldn’t without magnetic cuff links. He could tell a member of his live audience what the registration number of their car was, but only because his manager had been hanging out in the car park for two hours. Anyway I already know my car registration number. Another pointless skill that he hasn’t actually got in the fist place. What a dick, if you’re gonna pretend to be able to do something, why not make it something useful or at least interesting?. By the way I can impregnate any woman within a five mile radius by simply strumming a C sharp major on a Spanish guitar. Fact.
Returning to the the story, on hearing of Geller’s offer to the Reading football team, their manager Steve Clarke said this: “sounds like Uri’s after a bit of publicity, tell him no thanks”. Steve Clarke, a sensible man, a man who if he ever felt the need to ruin a perfectly good piece of cutlery, would do do so with his hands. Though to be fair to Spoon Features, he said he would be using his psychic abilities to guide Reading to the Cup Final anyway. You’ve guessed the rest. They lost. Who saw that coming?
Poor Reading, not only have they missed out on a cup final, they also missed out on a night out at Spoon Man’s notoriously tasteful Berkshire mansion. I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for that one. “Hey guys, come on in and welcome to by beaudiful home. I’d love to offer you all a cup of tea but y’know … no spoons.”