Being buried alive? It's even scarier than you think: Just ask the Huddersfield Houdini who nearly died trying this week

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Antony Britton made an audacious attempt to escape being buried alive which almost ended in tragedy earlier this week. He narrowly escaped alive

So here we are, in a Huddersfield block of flats, having a lesson on what to do if you ever happen to find yourself buried alive, six feet under.

‘Remember, at that depth you’ve got about six tonnes of earth pressing down on you. You have to pretty much use every muscle in your body to punch up, up, up through it,’ says Antony Britton who, surreally, shows me by pummelling his way through some sofa cushions.

‘It’s pitch black and the dampness is overwhelming. The soil is up your nose, in your mouth, in your eyes.

‘It’s like being in a vice. Your ribs and head are crushed. You are literally having the life squeezed out of you.’

There is, I discover, a touch of the sadist about Antony as he tells me what else is in store.

‘If you don’t move quickly enough you’ll be dealing with broken bones, brain damage, burst blood vessels. Your eyeballs could pop out of their sockets. The key is to not panic, because if you do, it’s game over.’

Antony, 38, knows because he’s done this and, by some miracle, survived (eyeballs intact) with just a broken rib and ruptured pride.

It’s hard to be too sympathetic, because for him being buried alive was a deliberate act. An escapologist by trade (‘I do put it on official forms, although sometimes I call myself a “stunt performer”,’) he has spent 20 years thinking up ever more elaborate ways to put himself in death-defyingly situations, then exit them with a flourish.

Escaping his own burial — as he tried to do last weekend — was the ultimate challenge. In the past 100 years, only two others, he claims, have attempted it — one of them his hero, the legendary Harry Houdini, who tried it in 1915. Even he failed.

So why did this Yorkshireman, trained as a welder, think he could succeed? ‘Because I am bloody good!’ he says, puffing up his chest as much as he can manage, given that broken rib.

But not good enough. The stunt in a park near Huddersfield — witnessed by spectators at first gripped, then horrified — was a disaster. Instead of bursting from the ground, Antony was hauled out unconscious, needing resuscitation.

He was dubbed the worst escapologist ever. So, was he a loon? Worse, a loon with a death-wish?

The stunt master had to be hauled out unconscious by crew members after he failed to break through to the surface almost nine minutes into the escape bid

His attempt - in front of an anxious audience at a charity even at Slaithwaite Spa - also resulted in a cracked rib and several minor scratches

His previous escapades have had a whiff of Monty Python about them. He nearly died during one stunt when he ended up hanging upside down, in a strait-jacket, from a burning rope, after failing to take account of a hazard that he endearingly calls ‘the Great British Weather’. High winds whipped the flames up the rope, and he dislocated a shoulder as he was lowered, faster than planned and with a burned arm.

Undaunted, he says worse things happen at sea (or, more likely, submerged in a milk churn, in chains — a stunt he actually succeeds at).

‘I have done my shoulder in a few times,’ he says. ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds, and I can pop it out of the socket myself now and put it back in. It makes getting out of certain situations easier.’ It’s hard to know whether to commiserate with our hapless Houdini, or suggest he needs help. Although physically impressive (he gets up at 4am to go running), he cuts a pitiful figure, shuffling to the kitchen to pop painkillers.

Certainly, he’s inflicted pain on the people around him. Currently, he’s single after a 17-year relationship. ‘She hated the escapology. Couldn’t bring herself to watch.’

Also, his mum pleaded with him not to do the burial stunt and has barely stopped crying since. His dad and sister made their own escape, going on holiday abroad because they couldn’t bear to watch it.

Not that he was thinking about them when he curled up in the foetal position in that grave last Saturday and braced himself for six tonnes of earth landing on top of him.

He was taken to a waiting ambulance where he was given oxygen before coming round but the stunt, only ever attempted by two other people, could have had a much more tragic end

What was going through his head? ‘I was singing, not out loud, obviously, but in my head, to keep the focus.’

Blimey. What would one sing in such circumstances? ‘Great Balls Of Fire, by Jerry Lee Lewis,’ he grins. Of course. You’d need them. As a child, Antony was obsessed with magic and illusion but he was too clumsy to be any good at it. He was agile, though, and tells of breaking his school-night curfew by climbing out of his bedroom window, running along the roof and shimmying down a drainpipe.

Mr Britton is no stranger to danger: Here he is seen attempting to escape Lucifer's Cage in Bradford. He started high-adrenaline stunts when he was just 14

As for escapology, he started off with ropes and chains. ‘By the time I was 14 or 15, I was throwing myself in the local canal while chained up. The lock-keeper would say: “Not you again! How many times have I said you shouldn’t do this?” ’

His parents sound sensible souls (his mum was a housewife; his dad worked for BT). What did they make of their son handcuffing himself to the rafters? ‘They knew that if I was determined to do something, they couldn’t stop me.’

He’d go to B&Q and tell bemused staff what he planned to do with the rope he was buying. In his 20s, he was handcuffed by police after getting caught up in a bar brawl, and picked the lock. ‘I always carry hair pins. Every escapologist does.’ The police were unamused.

Antony believes escapology appeals to people because ‘everyone is escaping from something in life — debt, a job, an unhappy relationship.’ So what is he trying to flee?

‘Reality,’ he replies. ‘It sucks.’

Being an escapologist is also a darn sight more interesting (and slightly better-paid) than being a welder. Antony says he makes a modest living performing at shows, mostly alongside clowns and unicyclists and fire-throwers.

His big party-trick is escaping from a burning cage, but it’s difficult getting the right licence (‘health and safety, you know’) so most stunts happen on privately owned land.

If he were based in Las Vegas, he might be a superstar, but being here, there is something very Eddie the Eagle about his preparations.

Even digging the hole last Saturday wasn’t straightforward for his ‘expert’ escapology back-up team. ‘We asked grave-diggers, but no one wanted to know. Initially, we had guys with spades, but that was a nightmare because it takes for ever.’ So a mechanical digger was found with an operator called Liam, who is the true hero of this story because his prompt actions saved Antony’s life.

His big party-trick is escaping from a burning cage, but it’s difficult getting the right licence so most stunts happen on privately owned land

Mr Britton nearly died during one stunt when he ended up hanging upside down, in a strait-jacket, from a burning rope, after failing to take account of a hazard that he endearingly calls ‘the Great British Weather’

Antony had never tried the full stunt before last week’s attempt at a fundraising day for Escape For Life, a charity he fronts. He had tried twice with four tonnes on top of him: one attempt worked, and the other was aborted when his legs got stuck.

But four tonnes isn’t six tonnes, is it? ‘No, but experience told me it

was possible. I was confident — thinking I had a 50/50 chance.’

There was a carnival atmosphere in Slaithwaite Spa park as, handcuffed and with a microphone around his neck (so support staff could keep in contact), he took up position. ‘Once 2ft or so of soil was in, I started punching up, using my fists, arms, thighs to create an air pocket.’ Then his body starting going numb.

‘I got my left arm caught and couldn’t move it. There was this buzzing in my head. I began to go woozy and light-headed. I kept thinking: “Just keep going”. But, still, I couldn’t move my arm.

‘I knew it was over. I don’t remember thinking, “I’m dying”, but that thing about your life flashing in front of you did happen. I went back to my childhood. My grandfather was there, talking to me. Then . . . nothing.’ He’s weeping now. He reckons he was seconds from death.

He had been underground for eight minutes when his ground crew, alerted by the lack of any fumbling or breathing sounds from his microphone, decided to ‘go in and get me the hell out’. Liam clawed away the soil.

This was the scene as Mr Britton entered Lucifer's Cage in Bradford, left, before it was set alight. It was nowhere near as dangerous as his latest burial stunt that nearly killed him. However, he's vowed to continue his career as an escapologist 'Till I'm in the grave'

‘I was unconscious, like a rag doll. They had to get the soil out of my airways before they could give me oxygen,’ says Antony.

And his first reaction on coming round? ‘I asked: “Did I do it?” It was gutting to discover that I was just 2ft from the surface.’

He insists spectators were warned they might not want their children to watch. ‘I got grief for the fact children witnessed it. That was the parents’ choice.’

He is also keen to point out organisers paid for an ambulance on standby. ‘People may think I’m a fool, but I’m not a fool who fleeced the NHS’.

He’s stung by suggestions that’s he’s not a very good escapologist and thinks he should be applauded for this failed stunt. He might even have another go.

So, is he sure he doesn’t have a death-wish? ‘Oh God, no. I want to live till I’m 95.

‘I’m going to be doing escapes till I’m in the grave,’ he says. ‘The proper grave.’

He’s stung by suggestions that’s he’s not a very good escapologist and thinks he should be applauded for this failed stunt. He might even have another go