Ok, so for hype, it could not match the Harry Potter premiere.

The number of bystanders waiting to catch a glimpse of the event's stars peaked at two, both anti-euro protesters.

And if there was a designer label in the house, it was hid behind a wall of grimly-coloured worsted.

(Many female delegates were more daring. Is red the new grey?)

Yet there was a touch of magic nonetheless about the Confederation of British Industry's 25th annual conference.

Useful vanishing powers

Sir Iain Vallance, CBI president, opened the wizardry by making all record of his spell as British Telecom chairman disappear.

CBI delegates: Touting for business

Questions about the pay-off awarded his former BT colleague Sir Peter Bonfield vanished in a puff of smoke.

Digby Jones, CBI director general, wowed reporters at an opening press conference by conjuring up images of the last time he had been in the media room at Birmingham's International Convention Centre.

Bill Clinton had been there, with the likes of Gerhard Schroeder and Tony Blair.

We are, Mr Jones, but mere muggles in comparison.

Even the trains worked.

And the Treasury and its sorcerer-in-chief Gordon Brown continued the trickery by, between them, transforming an effortlessly inoffensive talk on government euro policy into a seething attack on Mr Blair's pro-euro leanings.

Illusion of spin

All the speech had actually said was that euro policy remained unchanged, and that the Treasury had begun assessments of the assessments it will use for judging the currency's suitability for Britain.

But the sleight proved sufficiently outstanding to steal the headlines for two days, and prompt Conservative leader Iain Duncan Smith at a Tuesday breakfast session to accuse the government of "peekaboo politics".

"More like trick or treat," a delegate on BBC News Online's table muttered.

Summoning spirits

The event's outstanding magic moment, however, was doubtless the quite unscripted transformation of Mr Jones from CBI poodle to Knight Protector of UK Business.

CBI delegates: Keeping up to date

Just a lightly-acerbic smack from Trade Secretary Patricia Hewitt was enough to light the pro-business coals behind Digby's eyes and send his bejowled jaws champing to the rescue of UK firms.

Summoning up the spirit of deregulation, and formidable data on red tape, Mr Jones, who had seemed such an amiable chap, launched an attack which turned Mrs Hewitt if not to stone, at least to silence.

And after the raising of Sir Digby the Lionheart, Sir Digby the Defender of the Business Faith, the conference's remaining performances were really something of a let down.

Worm battles

Mr Blair attempted, with some success, the illusion of joining business and government back together.

HP himself, or rather itself - Hewlett-Packard - hosted a seminar on IT security in which worms miraculously defeat other worms, and all capital letters were rendered lower case.

It was a poignant reminder of the mystical culture ascendant in the dot.com era, besides giving HP compere Rich DeMillo's name the appearance of an anagram.

But Transport Secretary Stephen Byers reminded how difficult this whole trickery business was by saying he was finding it impossible to conjure up cash for Railtrack shareholders.

Dark forces

Indeed, it was not as if the conference was entirely magical.

No company directors have been near our stand. Where are they

Robert Young, Prison Enterprise Services

The car bomb which preceded the event was a reminder of the dark forces among us, and it was fortunate indeed the only casualty was the art of the incisive soundbite.

"For business, it's business as usual," Mr Jones said. Often.

The event's soundtrack seemed culled from "Now that's what I call conference music 14" - a tortured succession of dramatic chords which inspired little but exodus.

And for many conference exhibitors the event was not all it was cracked up to be.

Networking powers

The conference was attended, it seems, not so much by industry's captains, but by its lieutenants, mates and cabin boys.

CBI delegates: Going home happy

"No company directors have been near our stand," Robert Young, of Prison Enterprise Services, told BBC News Online.

"Where are they," he said, adding it was the organisation's first time at the conference, and hinting it might be the last.

BBC News Online wonders whether the rotund executive who confided he was at the conference to "network and gain a couple more directorships" had better luck.

Magic balls and happy ending

It wonders whether Romania "land for investments", definitely plural, attracted delegates interested in contacting the country's splendidly named Ministry of Development and Prognosis.

And it speculates over the quantity of glowing balls distributed by investment bank Merrill Lynch.

(This was the same Merrill Lynch which last month offered most of its 60,000 staff the opportunity of redundancy. No doubt a considerable number of spherical gimmicks can be bought for the price of a banker's salary.)

Still, the delegates seemed entertained enough by the conference.

They left the event reassured that while the UK is facing a slowdown, it should fare better than any other major economy.

The government was committed after all to fighting regulation, and the collapse of Railtrack did not mean the end of public private sector partnerships.

The stage was indeed set for a happy ending.

Or as Sir Digby signed off, in less than knightly tongue: "Cheers."