Ask Dame Edna

Dear Dame Edna,

My grandmother, bless her kind heart, just gave me a tax-free gift of $10,000. My best friend is trying to persuade me to go in with him on a Hamptons share. But I'm also considering (1) bumming around Europe for a few months, (2) redecorating my apartment, (3) buying a Buell motorcycle. How would you spend Grandma's little bonanza? And, more to the point, which of these plans would attract the most and the best-looking babes?

Ten-Thousand-Dollar Tom, Brooklyn

Dear Ten-Thousand-Dollar Tom,

The best way to spend a bonanza is to splurge. Forget the Hamptons; they're boring and full of the ugly rich.

For babes, and I assume you mean mature, consenting adults with jaded sexual appetites, forget Europe too. These days it's mostly Russian tarts with Moscow Mafia hit men lurking in the background. Come to Los Angeles, where everyone is on the make. Hang around the Peninsula, L 'Ermitage, and the Mondrian in your Etro leisurewear with a pile of old scripts in your lap and tell those pulchritudinous pool prowlers you've got something very exciting "in development." Foolproof—and you might not even have to spend a dime of your inheritance.

Dear Dame Edna,

My daughter, who just finished fifth grade, was invited to a classmate's enormous house in East Hampton for a weekend all-girl slumber party. Before she can go, however, we have been asked to sign a four-page release form protecting the wheeler-dealer host from liability, etc. I'm outraged by this demand. On the other hand, I don't want my child to feel like I'm spoiling all her fun.

Party-Pooper Mom, New York

Dear Party-Pooper Mom,

We are living in a spooky old world run by lawyers. I ought to know, since I was the brains behind Ally McBeal. Sign no waivers, Possum. Have the party at your place. I speak from experience. My daughter Valmai went to an all-girl slumber party in Australia many years ago against my wishes, and she's never been the same since. She had a perfectly nice bed at home, so why sleep under someone else's roof, I asked. Let's just say no one slumbered at that party. She came home three days later with unshaven legs, three tattoos, and curtain rings in her left eyebrow, reciting the works of Jeanette Winterson. Needless to say, my troubled child now needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. East Hampton and vulgarity go hand in hand. You ought to know that by now.

Dear Dame Edna,

Last summer I had a guest at my country house who had an assignation with my gardener. I want to invite my friend back this year, but 1 want to keep her out of the potting shed this time. Can I be frank with her? Please advise.

Lady Chatterley's Friend, Falls Village, Connecticut

Dear Lady Chatterley's Friend,

It is absolutely taboo to play doctors and nurses, trains and tunnels, or for that matter pots and seedlings with other people's help.

Gardeners are notorious, however, and every woman should beware the green finger when it shows itself.

Dear Dame Edna,

My friends are always giving me vegetables from their garden, entire boxes full of zucchini and tomatoes. Is there a way to let them know that I compost 80 percent of their offerings?

Overflowing with Produce, Southfield, Massachusetts

Dear Produce,

It's a fact of life that most gifts get trashed or given away minutes after the giver has gone home. You're lucky your friends give you useful veggies to nourish your garden. Imagine what I get: signed copies of unreadable novels that I can't even send to the patients in my Prostate Foundation in case word gets back to Gore, Norman, or Tom; hideous glass objects in pale-blue boxes from a tourist shop on Fifth Avenue; and ghastly garments which someone has spent years knitting or embroidering. There's always a catch with these too, because they always want a signed snap of me wearing them. Have you ever thought of making chutney with your surplus veggies? Then you can start giving these back to your friends in industrial quantities. You'll find that pretty soon their unwelcome cornucopia will run dry.

Dear Dame Edna,

ou've had a charmed career, especially in America. How have you thanked the people, agents, producers, etc., who have given you breaks?

Gratitude in Greenville, South Carolina

Dear Gratitude,

Frankly, I haven't. I was born successful, but you'd be amazed at the number of people who think that if it weren't for them I'd be a nobody. They'll always rewrite history, poor darlings. They sing like canaries to downscale journalists who wind them up about my ingratitude, and then they whimper when I snap shut the steel jaws of my purse on their delving fingers. I'm afraid it's I who's put them on the map. Call me old-fashioned.