Dame Edna: The Royal Tour

(Poor Possum. He must have had such a struggle just to get to the telephone, but there he was, asking me — Dame Edna Everage — if I’d be kind enough to objectively and thoroughly review myself. Well, of course I said ‘yes!’ For what else could I say?…beyond what I already say with such convulsive humor in my show?…such as ‘Now I’m a Megastar…not a passive victim!’)

Oh yes, Possum, I do say so very much in my densely-packed, two-hour Tour, complete with four lavish musical numbers and stories, tales, myths and monsters, all laid bare for the world and my public, my dear, dear public, to see.
But for those of you who live under a rock or don’t know anything of the world, I am Dame Edna Everage, creation of Australia’s pride, Barry Humphries — and I must say that my Broadway debut is a masterwork of satire, stinging social criticism, and love!

And yet, Possums, knowing that there are those of us who prefer to spend our lives in dank, dark, dreary caves, I’m even providing, at very great expense, a 10-minute film montage of great moments from my illustrious career, covering a span of nearly 50 years, at the very top of my show, just before my magnificent entrance.

Now, if I may, I should like to dedicate and address the remainder of this lovely review to you, my audience — to thank you all for all you have given me so far on this remarkable Royal Tour. Just today, I learned that I hold several Broadway records — in the CD age, Possum, your Dame Edna breaks records! — such as the one for the best single-day revenue at the box office at the lovely Oswald Theatre! I am indeed honored!

So thank you, dear Possums, for buying all those expensive seats. Even those of you upstairs in the cheap seats, muling and puking about, I thank you too, I do!
And, as I say in my show, I shall continue to ‘glance up there from time to time….in strict proportion to the amount that you have paid.’

But that’s not all I want to say. Your critics, too, have been very, very kind, and so have your home-grown Broadway stars. Yes Possum, even Jackie Mason now worships nightly at the altar of my glory.

Yet it’s so hard to share the spotlight, Possums. If only everyone could be like my dear, lovely, son Kenny — my single, artistic son, living in Chelsea, the one I speak of and sing of so proudly in my show. With someone as famous as I as his mum, I couldn’t be more pleased that Kenny has managed enough dignity so as to keep his own glory whole.
But as I said, every now and then I shall address you, my poor Possums, maligned and neglected up there in the nosebleed section in the mezzanine. My “Les Miserables” I call you–my dear “mizzies in the mezzie.” Poor, bereft little Possums, spending all your hard-earned money just to sit up there. But then, as I’ve always said, ‘One of the advantages of a democracy is you can have a slave class with a clear conscience.’

Now, let’s see…what else is in my show?
Oh yes, one night there was that lovely, sweet woman in the fifth row, who mentioned her beige bedroom. As I said to her, ever so kindly, ‘I had forgotten about beige.’ (Because, thankfully, I had!)

And there was that nicely dressed couple for whom I ordered dinner, from Barrymore’s, Broadway’s local bistro — delivered and served to them on a lovely little bistro table onstage during Act Two. All of Act Two, as I gently cajoled them to finish up, since it was on my bill.

And that lovely babysitter, that lovely, young babysitter for that other nicely-dressed couple in the back, taking care of their lovely, young, beautiful little babies. And how I called the babysitter from the stage, just to check up on how things were! Preventative medicine, Possum! If only my late husband had practiced preventative possibilities, Possum, perhaps his poor, persistent prostate problem wouldn’t have taken him from us so soon.

Oh, and my grand finale–tossing dozens of lovely, foot-high gladioli toward my many adoring fans, including my miasmic mizzies in the mezzie!

So there it is, Possums, my review of my own Royal Tour at the Squeaky Fromme Theatre. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the best news on Broadway until Cats finally posts its closing notice. Which means that I’ll be here, Possums, for now and forever — a true Broadway megastar!