With her unique kindness and a mind sharper than a scalpel, Myra Dubois offers to heal the wounds of the weary world. Here she explains how she made therapy an art form to watch and why she is uniquely qualified to offer advice.
As I type this, dear AdMyras, I am sitting by the window in my fully serviced apartments at
Leith Lower New Town as the Edinburgh Fringe is in full swing for the first time in three years. I have time to think. Think about who I was when I last visited here in 2019 and who I am today. Am I wiser? It’s hard to say. I have been wise since birth. But this is true: something is different.
In 2019, I was simply an award-winning stage and screen star. My audience only wanted one thing from me: entertainment, and who was I to deny them that? My 2019 show ‘Dead Funny’ was my funeral, and I fully intended to play the show, stage my death publicly and retire to a third property somewhere on the Yorkshire coast to focus on me, to think of me (for once).
Then 2020 came around, and in March the world was…well, I’m sure you know it. I felt the call of my audience on the wind, but it was different. No longer needing entertainment, it was, may I say? A bit needy. Pathetic, if I’m being totally honest. A scent of distress had been projected into the ether and my cosmic receptors were picking it up. “Help us, Myra,” said the signal. “We are in distress.”
Immediately I ditched my plans for a quiet retirement and returned to my London home, Myra Towers (at an undisclosed location in South London), planted myself outside my mid-century hospitality unit (with original features) and got to work. I streamed every Wednesday at 8 p.m. with ‘A Problem Shared’, solving audience woes. Some say I easily lifted international morale during the shutdowns. Not me, I would never say that. So don’t imply those are my words because they aren’t, but it’s true. I noticed that I had a gift for healing. Made possible, no doubt, by my own self-help work with my personal wellness guru, Dr Rev. Guru Malcolm (whose Welfare Detention Center I am no stranger to in peaceful Blackpool).
And so, we move forward. February 2022. I was sitting idly watching my sister, Rose Lavender, dab my gongs in the trophy room in a post-omnicrom daze when Myra’s phone rang in the lobby. He was a member of my team.
“Do you want to do the Fringe again, Myra?” the team member said, sounding slightly too familiar.
“Yes!” came my answer. How could I not? With my new gift, I knew the audience needed an in-person laying on of my healing hands. Not to mention the Celebrity Wellness Seekers who pick up my pearls during our sessions.
And so here I am. Through the window of my fully equipped apartments at
Leith Lower New Town, contemplating the challenges ahead. Is there another Agony Aunt in the game with my showbiz background? Does anyone else know what the masses want and need like me? I do not think so.
So join us at the Dairy Room in Underbelly, Bristo Square, every day at 7.45pm (until the 16th, my day off, although you’re welcome outside and at the pine). No subject too taboo, no quagmire too trivial. I am here to help you. Because a shared problem is (say it with me) what? Contents.
Photo credit: Holly Revell