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The result of the last Psychic Challenge:
Last week I was thinking of the Queen of Clubs (option 2), and 58 per cent chose correctly.
If you have a broken watch in your home, I want you to print this page out, then wrap the page around it, hold it tightly and shout, "Work!" three times. Put all your energy into it - and please email me if the watch starts working.
I am focusing on a watchface right now, but is it the one on the left or on the right? Clear your mind, and let the time register in your head.
When you feel you know, click
here
to email your choice and we will announce the answer next week.
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Anniversary
November has been a month of moving memories for me. It was 30 years ago that I found myself internationally famous after millions watched in disbelief as I made metal bend on the David Dimbleby show. An interview with Jimmy Young on his radio show intensified the effect.
For as long as I could remember, strange things had happened all around me, but the strangest was to be acclaimed overnight, as if I had just fallen from the stars.
Suddenly I was surrounded by journalists and TV presenters who were household names, all demanding to see my powers at work. I was so hyped up that it was easy for me to undam a torrent of psychic energy, bending pens, hatpins, keys, rings, the hands of wristwatches, and anything else that was thrust under my nose.
The science editor of the Sunday Times was just one of those who came to me a confirmed skeptic, and went away mindblown minutes later. "It is utterly impossible to remain skeptical after seeing Uri Geller in action," he wrote.
One experiment at Orly Airport in Paris on November 25, 1973 (that's three decades exactly tomorrow, though it seems so fresh in my mind) required me to send my thoughts across the Channel. At exactly 12.30pm I shouted: "Bend!" A Sunday newspaper collected letters from readers to prove that at that precise moment, 1,031 clocks and watches across the UK restarted, 293 forks and spoons bent, and 51 other objects broke.
Even today, strange echoes of that manic month resound. My manager, Shipi, and I were in a riverside cafe in London, reminiscing about the David Dimbleby appearance that started it all, when Shipi's jaw dropped. "I don't believe it," he said, and I turned to follow his gaze.
Into the cafe, at the very moment I spoke his name, had walked David Dimbleby.
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Catch Uri on his
Back From The Jungle tour.
More details on his website: www.urigeller.com
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