"I Can Easily Escape From Standard Issue Handcuffs. Just FYI."

David Copperfield's warehouse/living quarters were just raided by the FBI in the course of an investigation stemming from accusations of the magician's "sexual misconduct." Wow. Is there anyone in the world you would expect this from less than David Copperfield? Lurking in the bushes outside a young men's juvenile corrections facility? Yes. But sexually assaulting a woman? No way you saw that coming. He truly is the master of the misdirection.

Now, I don't know all the details, but I'm pretty sure it started like this:

"Hello, Madam, would you be so kind as to help me with a little illluusion?. . .I'm David Copperfield. . .Copperfield. Like copper and field. . . I'm a professional magician. . .Really!? I'm pretty famous. . .I dated Claudia Schiffer. . .Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Would you like to be a part of a trick?. . .Okay, could I have a personal item, a watch or a bracelet?. . .A handkerchief, fantastic. Now I'll just breathe deeply of your handkerchief. . .that you've had in your pants all day. . .as you did your shopping or walked to the store in. . .possibly to buy loose-leaf paper or cotton swabs. . . . . . . . . .Sorry, got lost there. . . .So now I breathe in your scent. . . . Aaaah yeah. . . .Okay. . . One more. . . .Good God!. . . . Okay, now I'll just put this in my pants pocket. Now I want you to close your eyes and concentrate. Concentrate very hard on your handkerchief. I want you to create a mental image of the handkerchief right here in my left pocket. Right here pressed against my thigh. . .Alright, do you have a mental image in your head? . . .Okay, now can you describe it to me?. . . .No, wait. Do it in a lower voice. . .and do it slower. . . Okay. . .Yes. . .Now, open your eyes. Is this the underwear that you were just wearing!?! Amazing, right!?!. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Can I. . .Can I touch your boobs?. . ."

But seriously, can you imagine anything creepier than having David Copperfield coming at you with his black, soulless eyes, silk shirt, and bouffant? That is the stuff of nightmares. Horrible, magical nightmares.

Good luck in prison, Davey-boy.