Howdy pardner, this is your old friend Biggie the Kid! Your regular host Bigs Bardot is struggling through a low-carb diet, so it’s up to me to tell you all about the Big Spuds and Forks. Just look at my tough-guy hat and genuine 18th-century baby blue short-shorts – yee-haw!
Every man comes to a fork in the road at some point in his life, so gather round as I tell you a tale of love, loss, and Big Things.
I was moseying on through the badlands of Trafalgar, on the trail of ol’ One-Eyed Willie, when I spotted something that dang near made my heart leap out of my chest. No, not a discounted Louis Vuitton clutch bag with a pearl clasp and space for a whole box of bullets – five gigantic taters, each just as round and beautiful as a junebug on a hot summer’s night.
But what was that over yonder, ya’ll? Pokin’ out of them there taters? Dadgum! If it wasn’t five enormous forks, then my name ain’t Biggie Charlene Kid!
My trusty steed and confidant Liberace didn’t need much convincin’ to gallop on over for a gander, and soon I was fraternising with the spuds in a robust yet respectful way. Sure I might be the fastest undresser in the west, but I’m also a gentleman, y’hear.
What a Spudmuffin!
These here taters live right outside the famous Spud Shed, where you’ll find more starchy tubers than you can shake a rattlesnake at. Oh, and the quince relish is truly a thing of beauty – just like my ol’ mama used to make.
A passing injun told me the sculpture was erected in 2008 to celebrate the Year of the Tater, and was originally on display for them there city slickers in the Big Smoke – y’know, pardner, Melbourne. But maybe that injun had been indulging in some Big Smoke of his own.
As he rode off into the sunset, the injun told me a fanciful tale about another prodigious potato. Basking in the sunshine of the far-flung settlement of Robertson, this one’s supposedly the size of a house and worshipped by the natives. Dang injun, I thought he’d start tellin’ me about massive Sprouts, Pheasants, Chickens and Dogs.
As Liberace and I swaggered out of the badlands of Trafalgar, on the trail of ol’ One-Eyed Willie, I lit myself a cigar and stared out at the bleeding sunset. “There are two kinds of people in the world,” I sighed. “Those with guns and those that dig giant statues of taters with forks stuck in them. And I ain’t got me a gun.”
Please note; in the interests of transparency, I should reveal that it was actually me – the inimitable Bigs Bardot – who wrote this entry, in character as a bit of fun. Teehee – fooled ya!
