When preparing for championships, Bell doesn’t practise with his locations; otherwise, things he has memorized in the past might linger. A friend once came in a disappointing tenth because he had ‘used up’ all his locations while practising the night before. It was a fatal mistake. Instead of being empty spaces, the locations were filled with half-remembered details-the equivalent of misplaced chefs and errant Marilyn Monroes.

London is a perfect setting. Unlike, say, New York, it’s not on a grid, and there are enough illogical twists to make each journey fresh. The parallel London in Bell’s head is swept clean of any human presence. Instead of a mass of commuters clacking through Euston station, there might be Mickey Mouse sawing a grapefruit. And because scenes involving meaning and emotion tend to embed in our minds longer than the blunt abstractions of numbers or playing cards, Bell sharpens each scene by making sense of it. Sure, Mickey is sawing through the grapefruit, but he’s doing it to make breakfast for Donald and Minnie, whom he cares for. A scene firmly fixed geographically and imbued with emotion will not fade like a late-night phone number.

In late September, Bell began adjusting his sleep pattern for the 2003 World Memory Championships, which were held in Kuala Lumpur in October. He started waking up at midnight so his mental agility wouldn’t be affected by jet lag. This championship may be his last:Being the top memorizer is not the best-paid job in the world. Bell currently lives with his parents and makes a living mainly from promotions and the occasional television appearance. Being memory champion also doesn’t guarantee celebrity—not that he’s looking for it. Groupies, if they exist, tend to be grandmothers, and sponsorship deals are a struggle. Rarely is Bell approached by anyone on the street who says, “I remember you.”