Our reporter proved to be hypnotised putty in Peter Powers' hands.

Our reporter proved to be hypnotised putty in Peter Powers' hands. Photo: Anthony Johnson

Dressed from head to toe in black, Peter Powers has an evil-looking goatee and resembles a comic henchman.

Meeting me in the foyer of the Sheraton on the Park hotel, he tells me not to worry: "You're going to feel very relaxed and happy. I'm not going to hurt you."

Yet this is the same man who humiliated the boofheads on The Footy Show into thinking they were giving birth.

On his TV show, the celebrity hypnotist convinced a victim he had been buried alive, then poisoned.

The Lancashire-born Powers honed his hypnotist skills on his younger brother, holding the flame of a cigarette lighter to his sibling's hand and telling him he would not feel pain.

"He had this bloody great blister on the palm of his hand but he didn't feel a thing until later," Powers says, laughing.

Equally unnerving is his observation that I am a highly strung type who "lives on the edge of his nerves".

Bigots of any type are the hardest to hypnotise, Powers says, but I belong to the 20 per cent of people who are hypnotic pushovers.

After asking me to clasp my hands tightly and stare at my thumbs, Powers counts to 10, taps my head and catches my leaden body as it falls to the floor.

Fully aware of my surroundings, I believe I am in control of my body, but for the next 30 minutes I am Powers' puppet.

He orders me to relax and I do. He tells me to laugh and I do. He tells me to act like a naughty kid so I hurl pillows. But when I edge towards his laptop, intending to fire it across the room, Powers taps me on the head and orders: "Go back to the couch and relax."

Powers hypnotises me again, this time in front of a Fairfax Media photographer, at whom I throw cushions and then myself.

"Did you know what you were doing?" he asks later.

Me: "Yeah, I didn't act like a moron, did I?"

Staring at me, he says: "Nah, mate. Not at all."