Ressurection of Mother Theresa

Last night in a packed to the rafters Capitol Theatre in Sydney we were blessed and honoured to be in the company of Barry Humphries and his theatrical cast of amazing pseudo characters.
He takes character license to satirically expose all to our core, from Sydney’s Catholic Cardinal George Pell and his unPardonable associate (a new character Father Gerard, Sir Leslie’s pedophile brother) through Clive Palmer, Gina Rhinehart, Prime Ministers, Hawke, Gillard & Co, the Packers and Murdoch, particularly Murdoch about whom Dame Edna was very annoyed because she has known Rupert since he was a little Aussie boy delivering papers in Mooney Ponds and he “didn’t hack into her”.
Most of the other bleeders above and below, regardless of where one lived, how big your house was, or if you were an old bored hag with a face like a dropped pie.

Dame Edna told us she does not mind the poor she simply chooses not to go on holidays with them or the Les Miserable either, those hangers on in the audience, clinging by their finger tips, clapping with one hand, up the back of the theater in the cheap seats or how big Gina’s arse was to need two seats on the Fairfax board or just how much you can pack into a caftan, or where Craig Thompson stashed his credit card receipts recording peace keeping union delegate payments, when specifically referring to that that long visible lump in his trousers. (The long lump was there and required an occasional but deliberate hip swing movement to unwrap it from his leg.)

“I am a gentle man”, the lumpy Sir Leslie assured us through his dribble. “I just make the connection to the Old tarantula, as I call it or the world wide web and say walk slowly towards me”.

Of course the attached photo say a little more because I actually did get to “tremble my gladdi” following Dame Edna’s insistent invitation for me to reach right out right out and “tremble together”. Oh yes she is a wild, ravenous, experienced woman that Dame Edna.
This all happened because dame Edna had eyes for me (as in she sorted me out) and branded me “Senior” earlier in the night, then later on she invited me to experience her psychic powers by taking me into the other side, that is my former life, having me turn to be Mother Theresa. “Yes she said because she could psychically see in me that I was a kind carer of children”. Mind you she did make mention earlier in the night that “people from the office would be rather amazed to know what you were up to this evening.”
From a packed memory I do recall some reference to vagina decliners getting it Wong to include her gay, colourful and happy faithful.

Psychic Dame Edna resurrected Mother Theresa

In his soliloquy to close the show Barry the man made special mention of Sydney theaters being torn down only to be converted to car parks, or venues where Gambling has been branded with a name change to gaming and alcoholic drunkenness becomes entertainment and partying.

Australia has definitely changed and Barry’s theatrical brilliance paints a shocking awakening, at times a revolting mirrored canvas to record a priceless “time capsule” as to how we managed to survive at all.

With out exception this was the best nights entertainment in my life. We laughed and we cried and laughed some more, his every comment, movement, look or gesture holds one utterly transfixed.

Barry Humphries is such an amazing energy and talent, a famous artist in his life time.

Friends of Australia book your tickets you will not be disappointed.

Love and Blessings as always

Normally I go  back to the POND on this occasion I shall return to the Centre with a Heart

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