In Dawn French seems unaware of the definition, which most people know, of the word ‘twat’. It is an offensive term for vagina and can be used, like many other swearwords, to demonise or diminish women. In this highly selective memoir, French explains that, for her, a ‘twat’ is a stupid person or someone who does something very silly. She sees herself, essentially, as a hugely ‘twattish’ person.
In the book, which is also marketed as a self-help text, French urges her readers to embrace the ‘twattishness’ in themselves. They should learn to free up the happiness that self-created cock-ups can produce, and just enjoy them in all their ‘staggering stupidity’. French has enough memories of her own ‘twattery’ to share for an entire book and she is keen to reveal them all.
The anecdotes are divided into sections such as ‘Royal’, ‘Theatre’, ‘Mamma Mia’, and ‘Elton John’ so that chronology is sacrificed, although her teenage ‘twatteries’ open the book. These are, of course, as painful to readers as they must once have been to her. Those terrible, inappropriate reactions to a first kiss or that total embarrassment of having the wrong clothes at a gymkhana.
Once she is in her majority, it is easier to laugh along with French, as she recounts a particular meeting with Prince, now King, Charles. Having seen her acting in Shakespeare’s , the royal personage quips, ‘I saw your Bottom’, referring to the part she played, at which point French ripostes, ‘And now you’re going to see my Beaver’. She’s acting in a version of . Upstaging the future king is, perhaps, quite ‘twattish’.
Elton John may not have noticed her entrance to his 50th birthday party as Michael Jackson’s chimp, Bubbles. It would have been impossible for him to tell who was engulfed in the thick, heavy fur and probably hard to recognise her then husband, Lenny Henry as the rock star (not really a physical double) in whiteface. What a pair of ‘twats’. Luckily, security guards manoeuvred the couple around the birthday boy whilst French, inside the suit, was so meltingly hot, that they had to leave immediately. The inappropriately attired couple walked through the entrance and straight out through the exit.
Originally the material was used in the show, and so the audio version of is a rewarding way to experience the book. Read by French, it is fun to hear her relate these tales against herself, with little squeaks and giggles at her own silliness. There is plenty of name-dropping, but she is a celebrity after all and it is much more fun to hear about her girly crushes, and gushes, when they focus on men like Dustin Hoffman, Phil Daniels, and Johnny Depp.
French relates the awful things that she has said, but the sections which make for uneasy reading are those in which, as a self-confessed fat girl with bosoms which lag behind her when she is in motion, she laughs at her own physicality. puddle joke is an example of ‘twattishness’, a classic which has been re-produced in many clips and Gifs as French, playing Geraldine, jumps into deep muddy water and then turns, gurning at the camera.
Many laughs stem from another person’s discomfort and only a hair’s breadth separates what is hilariously funny from what is deeply painful. French’s mantra is that laughing at yourself is healthy and she hopes that demonstrates how to do this.