British psychic comedian Peter Antoniou returned to Wytheville for his second sold-out performance at the Millwald Theatre on Saturday, August 8th, and this time I was fortunate enough to be there. For 86 minutes, Antoniou had an audience of roughly 500 believers and doubters alike completely enthralled. It did not matter whether you considered yourself a believer or a skeptic. Antoniou’s ability to keep the audience engaged was undeniable. His own journey into the world of mentalism began at a remarkably young age.
“I started reading tarot cards at the age of 9,” he recalled, “By 18, I was working on the 900-number psychic lines.”
Eventually, his career took him to Las Vegas, following his appearance as a semifinalist on America’s Got Talent in 2021. The 38-year-old comedian and psychic has apparently never looked back. His shows have sold out around the world, and after experiencing his performance firsthand, it’s easy to understand why. I was lucky enough to become one of his participants.
Early in the show, Antoniou invited audience members to become part of the performance by catching a Frisbee he threw into the crowd. My lucky moment came near the very end, when the Frisbee landed in the back row and nobody picked it up. I quickly asked my friend, Jeremy Miller, who had brought me to the show, to retrieve it and hand it to me. Antoniou asked my name. He had actually finished the personal readings, but apparently decided that my mental intuition was too strong to ignore.
“Are you thinking of starting a podcast?” he asked.
The truth was that I already had one. The question I had submitted for him to hopefully answer was whether I should revamp the podcast and, if I did, whether it would be successful.
“You’re worried about whether or not it will be successful,” he told me, “but you don’t have a clear definition of success.”
That wasn’t entirely true. To me, success would mean waking up one day to discover that I had enough listeners to monetize the program and, in a dream scenario, eventually be relieved of the essential need for government assistance.
“I can hear you thinking,” he said. “I know you’re doing this, but answer me about my podcast.”
He was definitely right about that.
“I think a podcast is a wonderful idea for you,” he continued, “but you need to let go of the stress of trying to make it successful and just make it as fun for you as you possibly can. Whatever is fun for you, that’s what the podcast should be.”
“You’re a very loud thinker, Zach,” Antoniou told me. “I can appreciate that, but it’s very distracting.”
In reality, I was simply doing what he had told all of us to do at the beginning of the show.
“The louder you scream at me in your head,” he had said during his opening remarks, “the greater chance you have of being heard during the program.”
After asking me the year of my birth and a second participant an important year in her life, he then asked the other Frisbee holder for seven random numbers. The remainder of the crowd was instructed to perform calculations on their phones. The numbers began with 1,985 multiplied by 1,981. That result was then added to 2,675,319, and 74,219,305, a number punched into a calculator by another participant who had been brought onstage without looking at the keyboard. The final total was exactly 80,826,909. Those numbers represented the exact date and time at that moment: August 8, 2026, at 9:09 p.m. But my experience was only one of many memorable moments throughout the evening.
My longtime friend Bonnie Asbury was also singled out by Antoniou. Her story wasn’t discovered as the answer to a question. Instead, it became an inspiration, which it most certainly is. After a lifetime of heartbreak, Bonnie recently found the love of her life after searching for more than 30 years to find him. Her husband is a 40-year veteran of the National Guard, and together they have written a story that serves as a reminder that love can be found at any age and under any circumstances. No one deserves that happiness more than Bonnie, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
Antoniou’s readings took several unexpected turns throughout the evening.
At one point, he suddenly described a bizarre vision of Kermit the Frog riding a swan while being struck by lightning. It turned out to have a very real connection to a gentleman sitting on the opposite side of the theater. Kermit Swan had reportedly been struck by lightning twice and electrocuted a number of other times.
“You want me to tell you whether or not you’re going to get superpowers,” Antoniou said. “You are not going to get superpowers, but you might develop a twitch.”
He then jokingly, but emphatically, asked Kermit to promise that he would stay away from electrical outlets and other dangerous ways of harming himself. Kermit reluctantly agreed.
One gentleman wanted advice concerning his cat, which had apparently, through a pet psychic, relayed some very strong opinions about a particular aspect of its owner’s housekeeping. Antoniou didn’t reveal the secret, but he did tell the cat’s owner that he definitely needed to take his pet’s advice. There are very few acts these days that I would willingly pay to see. Peter Antoniou is certainly one of them. Between the laughter, the unbelievable demonstrations, the personal readings and the unexpected moments of genuine inspiration, he gave me an evening I will never forget.
