Barry Humphries.

When I was young, my Mum introduced me to the funniest book I have ever read. I suppose it should be no surprise that this book was written by the funniest and cleverest performer Australia has produced.

I refer, Your Honour, to ‘The Traveler’s Tool’ by Sir Les Patterson aka Barry Humphries. It’s a book that starkly portrays everything I love about Australians – and everything that makes me cringe.

Utterly piss funny, it’s about the most inappropriate book I have ever read – showcasing every taboo there is. Race, sex, porn, you name it – all from the words of Australia’s cultural attaché, Sir Les Patterson, formerly the ‘Minister of The Yartz’.

I can honestly say I still love it more than any book in my pathetic collection (which includes other classics such as The Goodies Disaster Movie and Asterix goes to the Olympics).

I have always wanted to meet Barry Humphries since the day Mum gave me that present.

It’s like the day I first saw the CB1100R. I was a young lad, walking to work up Elizabeth St in Melbourne and there was a CB1100R in the window of the Honda store. I wanted one. I needed one. Problem was, I had no money. In the ensuing years I saved up my cash and eventually bought the most beautiful 1100R you’ll ever see. And riding it is even better. Big, tough, no nonsense, brute of a bike.

So, back to Barry Humphries. A couple of years ago I was invited to a dress up party – ‘Australiana’ was the theme, so of course I went as Sir Les. False teeth, big guts, food all over me, huge knob in my pants. I was utterly disgusting to all the girls. Didn’t get a root, but won the prize for the best outfit.

Which brings me to last night. I took my Mum to see Barry Humphries in Melbourne for possibly his last show. A mate gave me the idea to get an autograph on the photo of me being Sir Les from the party. Long shot, stage door deal, but I thought I give it a whirl. So there I was, with the photo in an envelope, white marker pen, ready to go and whilst strolling along the riverfront to find a café – there he was, right in front of me! Barry Humphries.

So I went up to him, asked him to sign the photo very politely, and he was…delightful. He was kind. He was everything I imagined him to be. He signed my photo (as Sir Les). He laughed at the giant purple headed beast in my trousers and wished me well.

My dream was fulfilled. Just a moment of magic I’ll hold onto for the rest of my life. I may never meet him again, but at least I’ve got the 1100R in the garage. I think I’ll go for a spin. See, dreams do come true!

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