In the film, Finding Nemo, Barry Humphries provided the voice of a gigantic, roughish and grinning shark. It embodied him perfectly. A man who adopted personas of dazzling charm and wit, only to consume his interlocutor in a single gulp, with the grin somehow still in place. Humphries comedic wit, particularly in the guise of Dame Edna Everage, took the form of a charismatic predator. He toyed with people, prodded them, and finally skewered them. He wouldn't behead them, though. He wasn't a monster. And besides, if you behead someone, there's really no point in skewering them again.
The Edna I experienced (and it was primarily Humphries' Edna iteration that I experienced) was fully formed, in the sense that she was truly a Dame, an imperial presence who commanded every stage she traversed and commandeered every talk-show she visited. Robin Williams and Billy Connolly were more exuberant guests, but they remained guests, nevertheless. Not Edna. She interviewed as much as she was interviewed. Hosts quivered, never knowing what barb was going to pierce them, or when. She obliterated Jonathan Ross, turning him into a schoolboy. She caused Graham Norton to convulse with laughter like no other guest ever managed. How on earth did she do it?
Part of Humphries gift was the pause; the pause for thought and the pause for effect. He was a master of comedic timing, who peerlessly created both anticipation and uncertainty, with guest and audiences enthralled - and more than a little nervous - as to what was to follow. He used that pause in exemplary fashion when asking kd lang when she first realised that she was ... Canadian. He could be brutal, but he used it like spice in a bouillabaisse of comedic styles. She was at her best on talk shows with guests who knew well enough to go with the flow. Those who attempted to match her in any capacity only led to the spice level being upped, along with the facial redness of the would-be challenger. When hosting her own show, she once had Piers Morgan as a guest, who looked more frightened trying to contend with the Dame than he did when he faced a riled-up Brett Lee (who broke his arm). If Piers were even the tiniest bit redeemable, I might have felt sorry for him.
Possibly the best examples of Humphries' work come from his times with Michael Parkinson. His appearance as Sir Les Patterson - during which he rails against the Australian film industry for ruining his film, 'Piss Up At Hanging Rock' is superb, but it is surpassed by the time he was a 'guest' alongside Dame Judi Dench and Sharon Osbourne. The Dame was in genuinely sparkling form, landing quip after line after barb with laser-sharp efficacy. Parkinson, Dench and Osbourne did everything right, riding the rollercoaster exactly as they should. It makes for stunning viewing time and time again.
I can't speak to Humphries' whole career, spanning as it does some sixty-plus years. When I watch older footage, the evolution of the characters is clear; Edna became more and more the Dame, morphing from self-proclaimed megastar to something genuinely approaching one. Few Australians have been successful in both England and America, and no one comes close to having done so via Humphries' route. He was just too good not be taken seriously as a comedic and satiric force. The guests he had on his shows were absolute legends. He interviewed Sean Connery. No one gets to interview Sean Connery, let alone pretend to nod off when he's talking about his childhood - in response to a direct question about his childhood. Humphries used his success to roast 'serious' celebrities with the same withering intent that he would those who attended his shows. He wasn't satirising the middle class anymore; he was after the biggest fish he could find. No one was sacred, nothing off limits. And somehow, being shredded by the Dame became something to treasure, rather like bowling to Viv Richards only to be hit for six that breaks a window two suburbs away. It might not feel great at the time, but it'll be the story you'll tell your kids. Thank goodness so many people were prepared to get 'hit' by the Dame, because there are hours and hours of her sparkling performances on YouTube to watch again and again.
In a way, Humphries broke the concept of the alpha-male. He dominated the room despite switching up his gender and accelerating his age. The (not so) little old lady became the leader of the pack. No wonder Queen Elizabeth II was said to be very fond of Humphries, especially in his Edna guise. With that Wilde-like wit, he proved time and time again that nothing can withstand a particularly well-chosen barb, and the Edna persona provided him with the perfect shield. You were, in her presence, beneath her. And she didn't simply stop you forgetting it, she made you delight in it. Most incredibly of all, she made it look absolutely effortless. It was the comedic and performative high-wire act to best them all, and she never fell. Humphries was a genius simply for conceiving of this way of engaging with audiences, let alone having the chutzpah to try it and the skill to succeed.
In the end, though, Humphries himself was human, and flawed one by his own admission. Alcoholism, affairs, questionable politics and some offensive comments about trans people have tainted his legacy. But they cannot and should not stop us from acknowledging him as the greatest comedic and satiric performers this country has produced, and surely one of the greatest the world has ever seen. Frankly, if we are going to start evaluating the lives of people based on their worst moments, it's probably time for the human race to retire hurt.
So put out your gladioli. Put on a frock that's got stuffed cockies on its shoulders. And put your hands together, possums, for greatest Dame of them all.