"I can’t actually read minds", Doug Segal declares towards the beginning of his comedy mental illusionist show. Even though he claims his acts are down to a combination of "analysis, cheating and lying", I find my sceptical self pleasantly surprised and convinced by his acts. Lively and booming, surrounded by tables, coat hangers and notepads of all sizes, Segel continually extracts the most intricate and specific knowledge from audience members’ minds in a way that persuades even the most reluctant viewer.

At first, I found his antics slightly predictable and gimmicky, not least when the card that he guessed (correctly) as the one the woman in the front row had been thinking of, was the central and most visible card in the picture he had just shown her. Nor was I impressed by the "think of a shape inside another shape" trick; most people usually picture a circle inside a triangle, or vice versa.

But Segal is excellent at upping the ante as the show progresses: trying to identify each word that four separate members of the audience have chosen from local newspaper cuttings, he says thoughtfully to one of them: "I feel like yours is two words put together" while she nods in amazed delight; he fumbles convincingly before crying "it’s intercourse!" with triumphant glee, and "celebration" to another.

The most impressive tricks probably came in the second half, when he apparently made two audience members so mentally in tune with each other that they drew the same picture. Additionally, an iPod stopped at random was playing the song that the girl sitting next to me had written down and sealed in an envelope. 

Segal himself is a bit of a chameleon, alternating between being a sassy and brusquely humorous illusionist and a slightly wacky magician, creating a binary persona that just about holds together. He actually plays a number of different characters, from Sherlock Holmes to a murdered man’s wife, and takes advantage of multimedia platforms to portray them. A conversation between a detective, played by Segal in real life, and a seductive widow, a pre-filmed, wig-clad Segal, shows off his versatility and meticulous comedic timing. Laudably, he manages to use all kinds of props, from a crudely-constructed mentalist chair, to long rolls of paper and chess pieces, to create visual variety, while still keeping the performance feeling slick and clutter-free.

I know he can’t read minds, and I know something is rigged. It could all just be down to his knowledge of what letter, shapes, or colours, the human brain naturally gravitates towards. But somewhere along the way, I decide to stop being cynical and morose, and just enjoy the show for the crowd-pleaser it is, and for the intricacy with which the adrenaline-filled spectacle unfolds.