Okay, not really, but I had to get you to click on this somehow. Believe me, it's worth it. Here's USA Today tennis correspondent Doug Robson relating his hilarious Australian adventure the other night:

My mother was surprised to wake up Saturday morning to learn I'd married a sheila named Lorraine. At least, I think that's how you spell her name.

But I digress.

On a rare break from the tennis, I attended a Dame Edna Everage performance with friends at the Victoria Centre Arts Theatre in Melbourne Saturday night. Melbournian Barry Humphries has been performing the Dame Edna character - known for her lilac-colored hair, outrageous glasses and vicious tongue - for 50 years. The Australian comedian has taken Edna around the globe, making appearances on Broadway and the “Tonight Show” with Jay Leno.

I was warned by my hosts that Dame Edna “interacts” with the audience, which when the show began I quickly learned meant she singles people out for her polite form of humiliation.

Sitting in the third row in a packed theater, I figured I was safe. About halfway through a monologue on bringing two disparate souls together in amorous union, Dame Edna singled out a homely Australian woman of about 60 and summoned her to the stage.

Then she approached my vicinity, looked my way and said, “You.” I figured it was someone behind me. Again, she looked in my direction and called out, “You!” I didn't move. “You, with the glasses!” I realized I was pegged, and, in this form of theater-mob rule, there was no squirming out of this one.

I reluctantly rose from my seat and took the stage, nervous but aware it was all in good fun. After a brief introduction to Lorraine, which involved cheese and wine, Dame Edna declared that she has received special matrimonial powers and would bring us together in unholy, and certainly unconventional, union.

We read out vows, including this zinger I was forced to say: “I promise when we spend our first night together, I won't laugh.” The audience erupted in hysterics.

Lorraine and I were good sports, and after the brief ceremony, Dame Edna's helpers brought out a large white telephone and told me that they wanted to call my mother in America to tell her the good news. After all, Dame Edna insisted, it was important for her to speak to her new daughter-in-law. Of course, this conversation would be miked to the entire audience of 3,000 or so. The place went berserk.

My poor mother was sound asleep when Dame Edna phoned her at 6:30 a.m. local time in New York to announce the nuptials. At first she was groggy and understandably confused, but my mother knew the Dame Edna character and quickly caught on that some kind of ruse was up. She went along with it, much to the delight of the crowd, with Dame Edna getting in her usual litany of digs.

As soon as the performance ended, I called my mother to apologize and explain. Her response: “I should have said, 'It's about time,'” when she heard I'd tied the knot. Go Mom!

Thankfully, I have the picture to prove it.