The women of Down Under are flying our Hills Hoists at half-mast. Why? Because we have lost a most formidable ally – an icon who spoke up for us for 70 years. We sympathised when her son, Kenny, came out as a “practising homo”… as in homeopath. We empathised when her daughter Valmai’s supermarket shoplifting brought shame on the family: “I mean, couldn’t it have been Harrods?” We’ve even shared a few conspiratorial chuckles about her husband Norm’s silicone chip prostate. “Norm’s prostate murmur turned into a rumbling so loud it woke the neighbours. They asked me if I could keep the noise down – I said there is a knob but I’m not touching that.”
Yes, I’m talking about the cherished and beloved megastar, Dame Edna Everage, who died last month, her exact age unknown (she maintained she was approaching 60 but wouldn’t say from which direction).
In a trifecta of tragedy, we also lost her cultural attaché, vulgarian Sir Les Patterson, and their joint manager, the wise, warm and witty intellectual Barry Humphries.
But it’s Edna we women will miss the most because she was so firmly on our side.
Australia is home to the world’s most deadly creatures – thesnake, the funnel-web spider, the box jellyfish… and Dame Edna Everage. Edna’s wit was venomous. It was extremely hazardous to be dragged up on stage as you might be devoured alive. She was the Martina Navratilova of the back-handed compliment, able to elevate and annihilate in the same breath, especially when it came to puncturing the male ego.
