Jackie Howe was a sensational sheep shearer who once sheared 321 shaggy sheep in a single day – a spectacular world record that shall never be shattered.

Try saying that three times fast!

But Jackie might’ve had a slight advantage, if these cutting implements are anything to go by. The Big Shears are an exact replica of the ones Jackie used to set his records, and are about three-metres-tall from blunt bit to pointy bit.

Geez, you could even shear The Big Merino with those things!

This razor-sharp Biggie can be found – quite appropriately – in the middle of Jackie Howe Park, on the northern outskirts of Warwick, Queensland. Standing resplendent atop a pile of wool bales, this is a well-made, lovingly-maintained monument that deftly combines rural sensibilities with art deco sophistication.

The Big Shears were unveiled to a curious public on January 29, 1983, by knockabout local pollie J.A. Elliott. The name of the person – or persons – who built this Big, however, has been lost to the ravages of time. The shear audacity of that!

Geddit? Shear audacity! Anyway, moving on.

For most, a visit to The Big Shears elicit feeling of joy and wonder. For Biggles Jane Fonda Bardot, however, a trip through Warwick stirs up horrible memories…

One warm day in 1985, on a backroad somewhere between Toowoomba and Stanthorpe…

…Bigella were rolling around in the Bigsmobile, the dulcet tones of Sandi Peanut Butter and the Peanut Butter Conspiracy flowing from the speakers and disappearing into the hills like psychedelic bumble bees.

The summer of love may have given way to the decade of decadence, but we didn’t get the memo.

Wearing a crown of flowers, Bigella smiled as I dodged a kangaroo, then lovingly ran her fingers through my cherry-red locks, which cascaded down my back like a fiery waterfall.

“My hair is everything to me,” I blustered, plucking a crimson curl from my face. “My entire identity, and sense of self-worth, is defined by it.”
“You should shave it off,” Bigella grinned, and I almost ran off the road.

The very thought of a haircut horrified me, but I was painfully aware of Bigella’s brief, yet apparently quite profound, dalliance with charismatic Rose Tattoo frontman Angry Anderson – a bald man.

“Okay, babycakes,” I gulped, fearful of pushing Bigella back into Angry’s arms if I refused. “I guess you can trim a little off the sides.”
“Relax, honeybun,” she purred. “If you don’t like it, your hair will grow back in a few weeks.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Turn off her up here – there’s a giant set of shears in Warwick that will do the job.”

“A giant set of… shears?”
“Yeah, shears. They’re one of Australia’s many Big Things.”

“A Big… what?”
“A Big Thing. collection of delightfully kistchy roadside attractions celebrating local industries. You’ll love it. And don’t worry, if you don’t like your new haircut…”
“I know, I know. It’ll grow back.”

One warm day in 2026, beside a road heading north out of Warwick…

“My hair didn’t grow back, did it?” I shrugged, taking Bigella’s hand as we walked around the Big Shears’ plinth for the first time in more than four decades.
“Nooo, it didn’t,” she smiled. “But look on the bright side – coming here introduced you to the concept of Big Things, and it was love at first sight.”
“And now I’m one of the most respected Big Things historians in the southern hemisphere.”

“No, Bigs,” my paramour announced dramatically. “You’re more than that. You’re the King of the Bigs.”

She was right. I may have lost my ruby ringlets, but I’d found something greater – a love for novelty roadside attractions. Don’t tell the guys from Ashley & Martin, or they’ll be out of a job – teehee!

“It’s getting late,” Bigella purred, caressing my chrome dome. “Let’s get back to the motel, Angry.”
“Angry!?”
“I mean, uh, Bigs.”

“You don’t mind if I play something on the radio, do you?”
“Invasion of the Poppy People? Captain Sandwich? Shirley Can You Come Out and Play?”
“I was thinking… Bad Boy For Love.”

Oh well, joke’s on her – I’m secretly attracted to Angry Anderson, too!