Les Twentyman wrote his own eulogy. These are his parting words

Social justice warrior Les Twentyman always loved to have his say.

In his 2017 memoir, The Mouth that Roared, he even wrote his own eulogy: “Well-known trouble-maker and stirrer from the west, Les Twentyman, who devoted his life to disadvantaged kids, has shuffled off this mortal coil. Fallen off the perch, turned up his toes.”

This self-penned eulogy was typical of Twentyman, Victorian Premier Jacinta Allan told mourners at his state funeral on Tuesday – “funny, fiercely honest and – as always – playing down the enormous difference he made”.

Mourners, many wearing the scarf of Twentyman’s beloved Bulldogs over their dark suits, flocked to St Patrick’s Cathedral in East Melbourne to pay tribute to the youth worker, whose foundation helped thousands of vulnerable young people through education and outreach programs.

The attendees included everyone from former premiers Jeff Kennett and Steve Bracks to Melbourne identity Mick Gatto, actor Gary Sweet, Bulldogs coach Luke Beveridge, rock singer Angry Anderson and AFL legend Doug Hawkins. The diversity of those who attended was a testament to Twentyman’s wide-reaching legacy.

Twentyman, who died on March 30 aged 76, grew up in Melbourne’s hardscrabble western suburbs and became a passionate and relentless campaigner on issues ranging across homelessness, drug abuse, prison reform and social welfare.

He regularly pushed for alternatives to sending teenage offenders to prison, such as the outreach programs he championed.

“He simply refused to give up on his kids or allow them to give up on themselves,” said Allan, who first met Twentyman when she was a newly appointed youth affairs minister in the Bracks government in 2002.

“His true gift was his unconditional support. It didn’t matter if he was giving someone a second chance or a 22nd chance, no one missed out. Les was a true son of the west, proudly parochial and protective of his working-class roots.”

Twentyman was born in 1948 and grew up in Braybrook, the eldest of five children. His sister, Sandra Papashalis, described how their parents performed any work to put food on the table, including running a fruit shop and collecting beer bottles and rags.

“Food was always important to us and sometimes not readily available,” Papashalis said. “Les discovered from an early age that pride was a useless emotion.”

The four brothers, Twentyman’s brother Garry recalled, slept in a tiny bedroom no bigger than two phone boxes. But despite their own poverty, the family took in the son of a customer at the fruit shop who was having a hard time, cementing Twentyman’s social conscience from an early age.

A talented footballer, Twentyman was chased by Footscray when he was 15 after winning the best and fairest and goal-kicking at Albion.

Garry recalled one of the greatest days of his life was when he came home to discover Footscray legend Ted Whitten sitting in the loungeroom trying to persuade his mother to allow Twentyman to try out for the team. She refused, saying he was too young, and Twentyman started out at Williamstown.

Mourners farewell Twentyman.

A staunch supporter of the Western Bulldogs, Twentyman later played a critical role on the AFL club’s Save the Dogs committee to help rescue the club, then known as Footscray, from its planned merger with Fitzroy in 1989.

As a teenager, Twentyman’s focus was on girls and sport rather than school, something he recently told a documentary on his life that he regretted. “I always wondered why Les put such an emphasis on kids going to school and staying at school,” Garry told mourners at the state funeral.

Les Twentyman Foundation chairman David Young said that in 1992, Twentyman persuaded senior footballers from Footscray Football Club to spend a few hours every week at schools in Melbourne’s west with high levels of truancy.

“Les believed the drawcard to keeping children off the streets would be to have their football heroes sitting in their class alongside them,” Young said. This program ran for nine years … Les Twentyman’s initiative worked incredibly well.”

Twentyman loved the media and the media loved him, which earned him some gentle roasts at the funeral. (“How many Les Twentymans does it take to change a lightbulb?” his mate, comedian Jack Levi, used to tease. Levi said the Les Twentyman Foundation had asked him to tell the joke one last time at the funeral. “The answer is 10. One to change the lightbulb, one to accept an award for doing it, and eight to report the event in various media outlets.”)

His brother Garry quipped that the most dangerous place in Victoria was trying to get between Twentyman and a TV camera.

NDIS Minister Bill Shorten recalled watching Twentyman on TV; his jutting jaw, his eyes burning with conviction, every word delivering an unvarnished truth.

“The old frustrated footy coach in him, demanding more guts and heart, calling on us to do something,” Shorten said. “I was witness to the same passion, the same honesty, fearlessness and ferocity in meetings with CEOs, celebrities, premiers and prime ministers. Les made it his business to speak to the human cost of disadvantage, addiction poverty and hardship.”

Shorten said Twentyman came a long way in his life from Churchill Avenue, Braybrook.

“But in a very real sense he also never left. He certainly never forgot,” he said.

“I think he was as much a part of this city as the mighty MCG. And the people whose lives he changed could fill that mighty ground several times over.”

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