BBC One and ITV have attempted to bring magic back to primetime on a number of occasions in recent years, but without fail it's always bombed. Why they haven't got their chequebooks out for Dynamo and snaffled him away from UKTV remains almost as big a mystery as some of the Bradford lad's tricks.
The third series of his Magician Impossible show launched this week and if I could only watch one show again from the last seven days, I'd make it this.
One of the biggest problems with magic tricks is that they are all variations on a similar theme. Dynamo's repertoire is no different and the majority of his skits in this opening episode can probably all be explained with a similar methodology.
But it's his down-to-earth Yorkshire charm and the swanky production that means I don't care if he's basically pulling off the same trick with jelly beans that he does with a cup of coffee.
Dynamo's style harks back to David Blaine's early years, when he was a spellbinding street magic act rather than a swivel-eyed fruit-and-nut case. Except, unlike Blaine, Dynamo isn't interested in being the star attraction. The real star of this show is the general punters that he leaves open mouthed on street corners.
His tricks provide the head-scratching intrigue, but it was the shocked faces of New Yorkers as he pulled off unimaginable stunt after unimaginable stunt that were at the heart of the show. A cheery lad in an old-fashioned record store, who watched as Dynamo managed to make his favourite record fly out of the rack, was a particular highlight. He looked like he might cry with joy at the end.
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Magician Impossible is so cool, it feels like it's swaggering across your TV screen. It was always going to need someone special to rid people's memories of the image of Paul Daniels parading around with Debbie McGee whenever the words TV and magic were mentioned in the same sentence. Dynamo is that special person.
And if someone can explain to me how he did the humongous mobile phone stunt in Times Square at the end, it would be greatly appreciated.
Dynamo: Magician Impossible continues on Watch on Thursday nights.
As a proud Yorkshireman, the start of an Ashes series is as exciting as Christmas. With the added bonus of some Aussie-bashing.
It's been a long while since the BBC had TV coverage of cricket - you'll have to get a Sky subscription if you want to see Captain Cook's boys delivering a pasting to the old enemy this summer - but they got into the Ashes spirit this week by airing the Australian drama Howzat! Kerry Packer's War.
Packer was a larger-than-life media mogul who helped kickstart a transformation in the game of cricket by launching a rival competition and standing up to the suits and old farts running the game.
You didn't need a full grasp of the LBW rule or the DRS system to enjoy the first part of Howzat!. In fact, it was probably better if you didn't know the characters involved because if you did you'd have been left scratching your head at some of the terrible lookalikes. Was that really supposed to look like Richie Benaud?
Aside from the comedy moustaches and curly Kev Keegan haircuts, Howzat! provided a fun and insightful take on the modernisation of sport.
In an age of millionaire sports stars, it's easy to forget that there was a time when playing cricket for your country wasn't enough to pay the bills. It was also rather quaint to see sportsmen boozing. Trips to the gym and green salads weren't on Australian cricketers' radar in the '70s.
Lachy Hulme was tremendous at the task of bringing the cartoonish Packer to life. A rotund ranter and raver, who was only ever one cross word away from having steam coming out of his ears, Hulme's Packer was believable and strangely likeable.
There was a slight panto feel to the whole thing - the evil old men running cricket, the collapse of the sight screen at the end - but that didn't detract from what was a thoroughly entertaining 90 minutes of television. Roll on part two next week.
Howzat! Kerry Packer's War continues on Monday, July 15 on BBC Four.
I'm never afraid to admit when I've got something wrong. And last year I got something wrong in regards to The Apprentice.
After a dull and dreary series 8, I mistakenly believed that it was time for Lord Sugar to give the ranting and grumbling a rest and pull the plug on a worn out reality show. The programme felt like it had turned into a predictable merry-go-round of jokes and the new 'investment from Sugar' twist felt like it had killed some of the fun.
As we enter the final week of the show's ninth series, I'm glad to report that I was totally wrong and that The Apprentice is in rude health.
Like all reality shows, the magic is in the casting and this year's gaggle of suited simpletons, blundering berks and ludicrous poshos have had the perfect blend of cringe-inducing incompetence and lovable fools. Shugs, Hewer and Brady may be going through the motions these days, but the candidates have elevated series nine to one of the best ever, if not the best.
This week it was the Interview Round, the stage in the competition where the exhausted and bedraggled final few candidates are thrown into a pit of snarling and unforgiving jackals. Or Lord Sugar's friends as they're otherwise known.
Claude Littner is the biggest beast in Shugs's arsenal. A man who looks like he'd get a giggle out of kicking kittens. Gobbling up and spitting out Apprentice numpties counts as a light brekkie for Claude.
The first man thrown to the lions' den this year was Jordan Poulton, an Oxford graduate who could talk the talk, but whose only real business experience amounted to flogging some old tut on eBay.
Proudly declaring himself to be some kind of Steve Jobs-esque visionary, Jordan didn't seem to believe that his lack of an actual business idea and actual skills was a problem. He was the blue sky thinker, the ideas man, the creative genius. In other words, he was an odious, arrogant twerp.
Neil Clough, a beardy lad with a fondness for speaking in the third person, was the vaguely likeable one from the final five, but his business idea had more holes in it than a fridge full of Swiss cheese. So he had to go.
Francesca MacDuff-Varley's most notable feature leading up to the semi-final had been her impressive double barrel surname. After the semi-final her most impressive feature was still her double barrel surname. Asked why she had claimed to have a business turnover of £5 million-a-year when in reality she didn't, she replied: "The number just came into my head." A job in the treasury awaits.
Doctor Leah Totton, a woman whose face is made up of at least 75% pout, progressed to the final with her plans to bring cosmetic surgery to the masses. If Lord Sugar turns up to next year's Apprentice with a face that looks like a half-melted Cornetto, we know who to blame.
Joining her in the final is the teeth-grindingly irritating Luisa Zissman, a woman with big eyes and an even bigger gob whose primary tactic in the competition appears to be drilling down her rivals' spirits with her endless nasal whining.
She claims to have the brain of Einstein and the sex appeal of Jessica Rabbit. Switch those around and you'd be nearer the mark.
Luisa is the sort of speak-before-you-think, tiresome wannabe entrepreneur that you'd run a million miles from in the real world of work. So she'll probably win.
The Apprentice final airs on Wednesday, July 17 at 8pm on BBC One.
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The Returned - The creepiest and best TV show on the box right now is French and it's on Channel 4 on Sunday nights. Who fancies a pint down le Lake Pub? - Still available on 4OD.
Count Arthur Strong - A proper Marmite sitcom, which people are either utterly loving or totally despising. It's a quaint old-fashioned and very British show and it's definitely worth a punt just in case you're in the 'love' category - Still available on iPlayer
Luther - We're still checking under our beds and we can't ever use a blender again, but by golly the new series of Luther has been rollicking good fun. Why on earth have they only made four new episodes? - Still available on iPlayer
