A Night With Dame Edna
The Brassy Aussie's a Royal Pain Of the Side-Splitting Sort

It is the rarest of evenings in the theater when your watch says 10:25 and you think to yourself, "I don't want to go home! Please, don't make me leave!"

You're carrying on an interior monologue worthy of a petulant 10-year-old because you have been reduced to a convulsing heap of gag reflexes by a star with sculpted hair the color of lilacs and a sequined frock out of "Valley of the Dolls."

The curtain is about to ring down on "A Night With Dame Edna" and the star in question, Dame Edna Everage, has left you with discomfort in the stomach. That's pain, as in the physical suffering caused by uncontrollable laughing jags that overburden the diaphragm and stymie the flow of oxygen.
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If you ever get a chance to see Dame Edna, do not, I repeat, do not pass it up. Trust me on this.