From the moment we arrived at this show, we find pens and pieces of paper placed on every few seats, from this point DM for Deception begins its slippery slide into a world where reality is rewired, perception is toyed with and nothing is quite what it seems.

Tristan even shows the audience, on a flowchart, all the techniques that are going to be used against them, just as he exclaims that he is going to be lying to them for the remainder of the evening.

For a show only in its second outing, it’s astonishingly polished; highly curated, you might say, with the unpredictability of live theatre.

This mind-bending experience doesn’t just lean into the discomfort of nomophobia – it exploits it. The fear of being without your phone becomes a narrative tool, building a charged tension that never quite lets up. You’re disarmed, distracted and deceived.

The show turns the everyday into something extraordinary. It’s a slick hybrid of magic, comedy and commentary, delivered with a wink and a perfectly timed delivery. Audience participation isn’t just encouraged; it’s essential. But don’t expect the usual “pick a card” routine. Here, participation means blurring the lines between spectator and subject, performer and pawn. You’re not watching the trick—you are the trick.

In a festival packed with noise, DM for Deception is a standout piece of intimate and clever programming.