Janetta Mackay: On being a Joan Ranger

Joan Rivers backstage at New York Fashion Week for E!'s Fashion Police. Picture / AP

Her Fashion Police chair is empty and it causes brain-strain to imagine anyone else in it.

Way to go, Joan Rivers. NYPD bagpipers belting out New York New York, the city's Gay Men's Chorus chiming in with Hey Big Spender and Hugh Jackman singing Quiet Please, There's a Lady On Stage. Plus more stars to survey at her funeral than on an episode of Fashion Police.

The 81-year-old stand-up comedienne turned red-carpet critic, television presenter and reality show star could not have scripted her final appearance better. All that was missing was a pushy dame on the steps of the Fifth Avenue synagogue saying: "Who are you wearing?"

"She would love this. We've all said this so many times: The one person who would really think this is the greatest thing ever is the lady who it's all about, and she's not here," said TV anchor Deborah Norville, who delivered tributes at the send-off.

Rivers may not have got quite everything she wished for in her 2012 book. I Hate Everyone ... Starting With Me, in which she imagined "Meryl Streep crying, in five different accents" and "a wind machine, so that even in the casket my hair is blowing just like Beyonce's", but her celebrity-filled farewell service's combination of over-the-top celebration and down-home sentiment nicely summed up how she managed to successfully entertain and eviscerate for so long.

Watching Fashion Police, Rivers' compelling celebrity clothes claw-down, has long been one of my guilty viewing pleasures.

Late at night, you'd find me flicking over to the E Channel, trying to avoid the Kardashian onslaught, in the hope of seeing her launch into the Bitch Stole My Look segment.

Scrawny, straight side-kick Giuliana, surrogate granddaughter Kelly and George what's-his-loafers just won't a panel make without the Queen of Mean presiding. Although her lines were often well-worn and obviously scripted, at times they had a raw honesty and sheer filthiness about them that belonged in the world of late-night comedy clubs, not manufactured "entertainment" television. Her strong self-deprecating streak gave her a humanity that belied her often outrageous utterings.

Rivers was an original, who battled her way up in a male-dominated business, overcoming personal setbacks, and remaking herself many, many times. Back in the day, on the comedy circuit, they would have called her one ballsy dame.

Her death during routine surgery - on her vocal chords reportedly - is being investigated, further guaranteeing Joan Rivers will be an E programme that is repeated endlessly. I'm signing off now with a silent Joan Ranger salute.

- VIVA