@ Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh, on Sat 19 Mar 2016
If 60 is the new 40, I have to ask if Jenny Eclair is a grumpy old woman or a middle-aged maniac as the subtitle of her one-woman show suggests. Crikey, the woman is only 56, a year younger than Madonna and not ready for the grave quite yet. Fair enough, she likes wine and crisps, but she’s not Elephant Woman as the unsparing life-size blow-up of her on stage in mismatched bra and pants shows. She deconstructs her looks and her life to a hugely appreciative audience of 95% women who roar with pleasure and recognition, especially when Ms E appears on stage in the same mismatched undies as if to say, ‘I am woman… take me as you find me.’
She admits from the outset that she’s had “a career of showing off massively” and her fast and furious Little Miss Menopause shtick encompasses women getting older, less attractive, less patient and more intolerant of bullshit.
This show is to be avoided if the following means little or nothing to you: Dulcolax, the similarities between MDMA and meatloaf, yeast intolerance, the aphrodisiac nature of John Lewis’s haberdashery, the importance of Chardonnay in a balanced diet, the forgiving nature of navy chinos (re: piss stains), elasticated waists, sharting and fanny farts, Gwyneth Paltrow’s steamed vagine, thick cotton gussets, the mushroom-growing potential of your embonpoint and, inevitably, hormone replacement therapy. It’s all helplessly hilarious.
Eclair admits to being “11½ stone of fury” and she really goes for it; ‘Anger is like a sort of cocaine,’ she riffs. ‘The last time I was properly relaxed was when I was under anaesthetic.’ Talk about not going gently into that good night!
The set might not be right on. It might get her no-platformed at the Cheltenham Ladies College but the message is loud and proud: don’t underestimate the over-50s, and don’t mess with Jenny Eclair. Like she says, ‘I’d be in Holloway if it wasn’t for HRT.’