The excitement I am feel as I stare at the escape artist's cruelly contorted and bondage festooned form (an utterly bizarre work of art) is now tempered by unease as a I think of the agony she must be enduring. I accept a microphone from an assistant, then stand and say to the host: " I could tie my shoe laces somewhere on Miss Pan Teer for another hundred dollars, but I do not wish to place any further restraints on her body. I think the time has surely come to allow her display her mastery of the art of the escape." There are a few cries of agreement, but an equal number of boos and hisses as I sit down - wondering nervously what will happen next...