Category: Big Animals

  • Fruitisforus the Big Dinosaur, Ballandean, QLD

    Fruitisforus the Big Dinosaur, Ballandean, Queensland

    Crossing into Queensland is like stepping back in time – because there’s a giant triceratops just a few minutes from the NSW border!

    The bright green dinosaur is the pride of Ballandean, and is known to his fans as Fruitisforus (fruit-is-for-us). The fruit may, indeed, be for them – but ‘Fruity’ is their gift to the world.

    Fruity started life as a float for the 1998 Apple & Grape Harvest Festival in Stanthorpe (home of The Big Thermometer). He proved so popular that the locals placed him out the front of the railway station, to draw attention to the nearby fruit stands.

    Stop for the expertly-crafted dinosaur sculpture, stay for the ripe and juicy pomegranates.

    Quickly becoming Ballandean’s most popular resident, it was decided to make Fruity a permanent fixture of the town. He was slathered with fiberglass, painted bright green, and put back on display for generations to enjoy.

    Or at least until they get jura-sick of him – teehee!

    At 6.7 metres from tail to elegant nasal spike, Fruity’s about the same size as an actual triceratops. Some, unfortunately, say that disqualifies him from being a Big Thing.

    But I don’t see too many other three-horned thunder-lizards wandering around rural Queensland, so he counts!

    Are you feeling horny, baby??

    What killed the dinosaurs? It may very well have been a 1987 Toyota Camry – because that’s what almost drove Fruitisforus to extinction.

    One cold, windswept evening in January 2014, the good people of Ballandean were woken from their slumber by a thunderous thud.

    “I thought it was a car crash, I had only just gone to sleep and the noise woke me up,” local gal Pam Bates told a famished reporter from The Stanthorpe Border Post. “I thought it could have been some fool from the pub, but the pub was shut and there was no-one around.”

    Clutching a torch in one hand and her beloved husband Erwin in the other, Pam ventured out into the gloom, steeling herself for scenes of chaos and calamity.

    But she could not have expected, nor would she have wished to see, as much of the mad and macabre as they were to see that night.

    Fruity – kind, sweet Fruity – had been horrifically disfigured by a deranged hit-and-run driver.

    “Half of his face is ripped off,” Pam wept. “It is a shame because it is such an icon; everyone pulls up to take photos of their kids with it. I hope they are able to put his face back on.”

    Bigthusiasts were immediately reminded of another dinosaur who was toppled by a car – Grrrreta, in Fruita, Colorado. After this spate of anti-archosaurian attacks, Digby the Dinosaur now has a 24-hour security escort.

    Fortunately, Fruity soon received a facelift – and the artist knocked a few years off at the same time. Now he doesn’t look a day over 65 million years old!

    After a decade-long investigation involving state and federal police, it was determined that the brutal vehicular assault was an unfortunate accident.

    The good people of Ballandean, however, will never feel safe again.

    The Lizards of Oz

    For creatures that died out tens of millions of years ago, there sure are plenty of Big Dinosaurs around the place. Ploddy the Diplodocus in Somersby, NSW, is the oldest Big Thing of them all and a real dino-mite dame!

    Palmerston, in the Northern Territory, is home to Big Kev the Brachiosaurus. Now you know where to go for your ‘necks’ vacation!

    Lochie the Loch-Eel Monster is pretty much a dinosaur. He can be found haunting the shallow waters of Bumbunga Lake in South Australia. This handsome fellow sure is the eel deal!

    Queensland’s also home to The Big Kronosaurus in Richmond and The Big Dinosaur in Mackay. Then, of course, there’s Dino the Dinosaur in Noojee, Victoria. I haven’t written up those entries yet, so it’s a co-fossil waste of time to even mention them.

    But for the world’s largest dinosaur, you’ll have to jump on the next Ptrans Pterodactyl Airlines flight to Drumheller in Canada. There you’ll have a memorable encounter with Tyra, a 26.3m-tall Tyrannosaur with rawr-some smile.

    Oh me oh my, aren’t my dinosaur jokes pre-hysterical!

  • The Golden Goose, Las Vegas, Nevada

    The Golden Goose, Fremont Street, Las Vegas, Nevada

    You’d have to be a goose to miss out on this Big Thing! So join me as we take a gander at the legendary Golden Goose in Downtown Las Vegas.

    Looking dapper in her festive purple cap, the enormous critter perfectly embodies the playfulness and passion of Sin City.

    She’s also easy to find, so you won’t have to go on wild goose chase. The roadside attraction is perched precipitously atop a pompously-hued shipping container on the dusty corner of Fremont Street and 10th Street.

    Just head past The World’s Largest Fire Hydrant and step over the screaming homeless person.

    This unassuming corner of Vegas is only a few hundred (webbed) feet from where the Golden Goose was originally located. She was built by the YESCO sign company in 1975, and rotated proudly above the casino of the same name at 20 Fremont Street. Not surprisingly, she made an immediate impact – in the most dramatic way possible.

    “Just one day after the Goose was installed, it flew its coop,” hooted Herb Pastor, who owned the casino. “The Goose toppled off its ledge, falling to the ground, smashing a car parked at the curb.

    “It narrowly missed a couple of people on the sidewalk. Luckily no-one was hurt. It was right then I knew I was in for some good luck.”

    I’m not sure the owner of the car thought it was quite so lucky, Herbie, you silly goose!

    For decades, the smiling Goose was the last thing punters saw before blowing their life saving on blackjack. Then things took a seedy turn when the casino was converted into a notorious strip club: the disturbingly-named Girls of Glitter Gulch.

    What sort of creepo would want to leer at scantily-clad women when there’s a perfectly good honker outside to drool over?

    Goose on the Loose

    The Golden Goose swanned about on the rooftop until 2017, when the building was levelled to make way for the brand new Circa Resort.

    The world-class hotel may offer an Asian fusion restaurant and a rooftop bar, but apparently an oversized chicken didn’t match their sleek aesthetic. It looked to be a fowl end for this beautiful Big.

    Then along came Tony Hsieh and the gang from DTP Companies – the troupe dedicated to revitalising Downtown Las Vegas – who were determined to rescue this beloved piece of Americana.

    Honestly, I get goosebumps just thinking about it.

    “We were told if we could pick it up, we could take it,” DTP marketing director Bill Kennedy told a bemused reporter. “It was heavily damaged. People kicked in the lightbulbs. It was expensive to move and restore. But we didn’t want to see it end up in a private collection. It belongs where the public can enjoy it.”

    The Golden Goose was given a fresh lick of paint, and her damaged eggs were swapped out for new ones. Thankfully, DTP were willing to foot the bill!

    Windows were even drilled in the side of the shipping container, allowing thrillseekers to peek in to see hundreds – perhaps thousands – of golden eggs inside.

    The old girl was saved and so, in turn, was Downtown Las Vegas.

    I guess she really is the goose that laid the golden egg!

    That thing in there… it’s not the Goose. Oh wait, yes it is the Goose

    The Golden Goose is open seven days a beak, so Bigella and I visited on a crisp Sunday morning. You know what they say – the early bird catches the historic roadside attraction!

    Her location is rustic, but pleasant – although there is a feeling of impermanence. The Golden Goose, I feel, shall migrate to another location in the near future.

    This grand old dame is now much easier to take a photo with than when she lived in Glitter Gulch. There’s plenty of space to set up a tripod, and Bigella wasted no time snuggling in for a happy snap while I set up the camera.

    “Well, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander!” I cheered, waddling into the photo.

    “Apparently the Goose used to play You Spin Me Round as it rotated on the container,” I frowned, looking at the very stationary, very silent critter. “There’s also meant to be a ‘fun button’ to push, but I wasn’t able to find it.”
    “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Bigella shrugged.

    Enraptured by the bird’s grandeur, her pithy comment was lost on me. We goosed around for a few more photos, until we took flight when a hobo in a cowboy hat (and not much else) shambled towards us.

    “I’ve only got one question,” piped up Bigella as we raced off down Fremont Street.
    “What’s that?” I queried.
    “Why isn’t the Golden Goose, uh, golden?”

  • Los Delfines Grandes, Palín, Guatemala

    Los Delfines Grandes, Palín, Guatemala

    What’s the porpoise of visiting AutoMariscos, the world-famous waterpark just 45 minutes outside of Guatemala City? There’s the thrilling waterslides, crystal-clear pools, five-star food… oh, and a couple of enormous dolphins that need to be marine to be believed!

    Please put you flippers together to welcome Dolphin Lundgren and his best bud Dolphin Ziggler – Los Delfines Grandes!

    The marvellous mammals preside over the legendary Carretera al Pacífico highway, luring in passersby with their impish grins and perky dorsals. Whilst not the bulkiest Big Things around, they are noticeably larger than real dolphins – and that’s all that matters.

    The detail on these creatures is some-fin to behold. Visiting Chapins gape in awe at the tantalising tail flukes. The breathtaking beaks. And, of course, the cheeky, yet sensual blowholes.

    If these dolphins were any more realistic, the Japanese would turn up to eat ’em!

    AutoMariscos is nestled snuggly within resort town of Palín. Surrounded by concrete factories and panelbeaters, it’s become a favourite haunt of the Guatemalan glitterati. I dolphin-itely recommend a visit, no matter the orca-sion!

    Don’t worry – despite being home to Los Delpfines Grandes, there’s nothing fishy about this place!

    Can you hear the Big Dolphins cry?
    See them both rise up to meet us
    Let’s eat some ceviche tonight
    Love will lead us, Dolphins will lead us

    I felt like a fish out of water as Bigella and I sat down amongst the locals to have a meal at AutoMarisco’s upscale restaurant. They were all out of dolphin burgers, so we settled on the legendary prawn ceviche, washed down with a bottle(nose) of Gallo cerveza.

    We were treated to a taste sensation. The prawns were succulent and fresh, the sauce tangy and robust. Paired with attentive service and an exquisite view over both the dolphins and the park’s tranquil piscinas, it proved to be the perfect spot for a romantic dinner.

    Then Bigella dropped a bombshell.

    “I had a brief – some would say tumultuous – relationship with celebrity chef Jamie Oliver,” Bigella giggled, “and his ceviche was shrimp-ly terrible compared to this.”

    I chose to ignore her comment and, after the final prawn slid down my gullet, ordered dessert for us both. Whilst the postres served up were as delicious as expected, what happened next left a very sour taste in my mouth indeed.

    Sea creatures and sea-lebrity chefs

    “This is even better than the one Gordon used to make me!” Bigella cheered, gulping down her melocotones en almíbar.
    “Well, you can’t expect much from a small, furry alien,” I chuckled, referring to my long-time friend, Gordon Shumway.
    “No, I mean the gastronomic visionary Gordon Ramsay,” Bigella quivered. “We spent a memorable summer together in Tuscany back in 2017.”

    My masculinity threatened, I lost my cool and waggled an accusatory finger at Bigella.

    “Next you’ll tell me you dated Geoff Jansz!” I fumed.
    “I wouldn’t say I dated him,” Bigella shrugged.
    “Well that’s a relief.”
    “Yeah, it was more like an erotic and culinary odyssey to the boundaries of passion.”

    As we waved goodbye to Los Delfines Grandes and climbed back into the Bigsmobile, I made a mental note to not introduce Bigella to my good friend, celebrity chef Iain Hewitson.

    Things are already weird enough between me and Huey without dragging Bigella into the mix!

  • El Quetzal, Ciudad de Guatemala

    El Quetzal, Zona Portales, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Ciudad de Guatemala – the volcano-crowned Central American megacity with a heart of gold – was once a verdant valley teeming with wild creatures. Most stunning of all was the quetzal, a green-and-crimson bird of unrivalled beauty.

    The princely parrot pranced through the azure skies over this paradise, a symbol of hope for the happy little Guatemalans below.

    These days the city is a buzzing metropolis and a true cultural hub. There are five-star restaurants and overcrowded fried chicken shops. World-class fashion boutiques and labyrinthine street markets. Prodigious puppies and towering teeth.

    But the ancient forest has been covered by concrete, the animals driven up into the mountains. And, sadly, there are no quetzals.

    Wellllll… except for El Quetzal. The shining silver squawker can be found in the middle of a roundabout at the Zona Portales shopping centre, on the north-east fringe of the city.

    Óscar Porras, the world-renowned Guatemalan artist, created this majestic sculpture as a love letter to his homeland. At 10 metres from plinth to punkish silver mohawk, El Quetzal has towered over his surroundings since 2013.

    More than a decade later, locals still flock to see him!

    The handsome hooter was carefully constructed from brick and stainless steel, which ‘Óssie’ rescued from the brickyard that once stood on the site of the shops.

    The cute quetzal is said to embody the spirit of the legendary Mayan warrior – and Guatemalan folk hero – Tecún Umán.

    Maybe he should change his name to Tweet-ún Uman – teehee!

    Let’s quet physical, physical!

    Óssie Porras is a self-taught sculptor, who’s becoming a big deal in the world of oversized roadside architecture. A little birdie told me El Quetzal isn’t the only Big of his at Zona Portales.

    He created a huge statue of R2D2 – you know, the walking garbage bin from Star Wars. Óssie’s also spread his wings to build two immense warriors known as Guerreros Futuristas.

    “Se trabaja con piezas de máquinas industriales como engranajes, cadenas, cilindros, cargadores, todo lo que sea reciclado y que tenga un enfoque industrial”, Óssie explained.

    I’m fluent in Guatemalan, so he’s saying that he likes working with gears, chains, and anything else that has an industrial focus. Or it might be his order at the local Chinese restaurant, I’m not quite sure.

    Óssie was kind enough to plonk El Quetzal out the front of the popular Megapaca clothing emporium, where some of the more outlandish locals go to buy their duds.

    After admiring El Quetzal, I bought a pair of sequinned slacks, whilst Gordon splashed out on an ornate Mayan headdress. By the time we finished, we looked as vibrant as the massive bird out the front.

    We couldn’t help ourselves – the prices are so cheep!

  • Yard Dog, Indio, California

    Yard Dog, Indio, California

    Doggone it, look at the size of that dishlicker! Yard Dog is 20 feet long, made from corrugated sheet metal, and can be found in Indio’s tranquil Hjorth Bark… oops, I mean Park!

    Whilst a bit ruff around the edges, Yard Dog is a fascinating example of recycled street art, but the best thing is the name of the artist who built him.

    Ready for it?

    Don Kennell. Don Kennell! Which almost sounds like dog kennel – teehee!

    Dog… sorry, Don… modelled Yard Dog after his own pet pooch. Completed in 2011, the whopping woofer first lived in the Santa Fe Railyard Park in New Mexico. But this big dog was set for even bigger things.

    He was adopted by the owners of the Coachella Music Festival, as the headline act for the 2014 event. I was unable to attend, of course, due to my falling out with André 3000 from pop group OutKast, and subsequent restraining order.

    But enough about me and my celebrity feuds. I’ll fetch you more facts about the big ol’ bow-wow!

    After the festival, Yard Dog found his forever home in Indio, Collie-fornia in late-2014. Just down the road Coachella but a million miles away from the glitz and glamour of rock stars and travel influencers, Hjorth Park offers the chance to paws and reflect upon life.

    Sit back, munch on a bag of kibble, and admire Yard Dog.

    A Yard Act to Follow

    Whilst I certainly have the pedrigree to tell you about Yard Dog, I’ll hand it over to Mr Kennel for a few words on his bark-sterpiece.

    “The piece is based on a very famous sculpture called the Capitoline Wolf, which is this renaissance bronze that depicts Romulus and Remus under the belly of a she-wolf,” Don howled. “It’s a very strange piece and I wanted to do a contemporary take on it. My idea was to put a porch swing under the belly of the dog and then recreate that scene.”

    The swing’s since been removed – which is probably for the best, as nobody wants a bunch of swingers hanging out in the park after dark – but the dog’s still perfect for a yappy snap.

    “The idea was that we trace our civic heritage back to Rome, but in a sense we’re also always creating our society,” Don growled.

    “I wanted to put contemporary people in the position of being these founders, like we all get a chance to refound society. So that’s the highbrow take on the piece, which most people don’t recognise – they’re just like, ‘Wow it’s a cool swing under a dog, how awesome is that!’”

    Golly gosh, I suppose every dog has its day!

    You ain’t nothin’ but a Yard Dog

    With his pensive glare and heavy metal swagger, Yard Dog serves as the perfect guard dog to watch over this sleepy desert town. But if you can’t get down to Indio, Yard Dog has a twin – Barn Dog – who lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I guess there’s no runts in that litter!

    A man of peerless work ethic, Don Kennell has built many Bigs over the years, and I double dog dare you to visit them all. There’s Longview, a 35-foot polar bear made from car hoods, who can also be found in downtown Santa Fe.

    Over the road is Zozobra, an utterly bonkers 18-foot-tall metal ghoul. And the fierce, fabulous Invincible Tiger lives all the way over in Camden, New Jersey.

    Yes, in the dog-eat-dog world of oversized roadside architecture, Mr Kennell stands out from the pack!

    Don also has a really big pecker. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter – I mean The Big Roadrunner, who lives just down the road from Yard Dog, in quixotic La Quinta.

    As his name suggests, Mr Kennell has an obsession with massive mutts ‘n’ mongrels, such as Playbow in Greeley, Colorado, and Green Coyote at Meow Wolf’s House of Eternal Return in New Mexico.

    Geez, he must be dog tired after building all those!

    “These sculptures invite the viewer into a fanciful world,” Kennell snarled wistfully. “The viewer becomes a participant, and can construct a narrative or even construe a relationship with the animal in the sculpture.”

    You heard the man – go out and start an intimate relationship with a big critter near you, ASAP. You’d be barking mad not to!

  • Arnold the Giant Murray Cod, Swan Hill, Vic

    Arnold the Giant Murray Cod, Swan Hill, Victoria, Australia

    Measuring 15 metres from trout pout to caudal fin, Arnold is o-fish-ially the largest Murray Cod around – and after appearing in the cult classic, Eight Ball, he’s also Australia’s biggest movie star.

    Sorry, Chris Hemsworth, your melon-heavy muscles don’t quite match up to this four-tonne flounder!

    Eight Ball revolves around an oddball named Russel (the devilishly handsome Paul Stevn), who runs into Charlie (the ever-charismatic Matthew Fargher), an architect designing an enormous fish sculpture (a babyfaced Arnold in his breakthrough role) for Swan Hill. The two bond over the game of eight ball and their shared love for novelty architecture.

    But the story’s just an excuse to show off the great big grouper. The performances in Eight Ball are mesmerising, the script punchy, but the film comes alive when Arnold’s on screen. He’s treated with the reverence he deserves, and the scenes of Arnold being built are as informative as they are heart-wrenching.

    In reality, The Giant Murray Cod was made out of steel and timber in Melbourne in 1991, then hauled off to Speewa, just outside of Swan Hill, for the filming. Criminy, a fish this large must’ve taken up 90 per cent of the budget!

    I was, of course, briefly considered for the pivotal role of Dougie. Sadly, I lost out to the little fat kid from Hey Dad! when the producers realised it would be impossible for me to focus on the script if there was a immense freshwater fish nearby.

    Director Ray Argall did, however, name the character of Eric Biggs in my honour. Thanks, babe!

    In a just world, Eight Ball would’ve made a billion dollars and spawned an extended cinematic universe revolving around our beautiful Big Things. Instead, Arnold the Giant Murray Cod – darling of the silver screen – settled into a quiet life in rural Victoria

    A Star is Spawned

    After the hoopla surrounding Eight Ball died down, the good people of Swan Hill had just one question for the producers: “Pretty please, can we keep that big ol’ murray cod?”

    Anything to stick it to their rivals down the creek in Tocumwal, who are very proud of their very own Big Murray Cod!

    With Eight Ball 2: The Cods Must Be Crazy looking unlikely, the studio donated Arnie to the town. To make sure he could survive Swan Hill’s harsh weather, the charming chaps at Grizzly Engineering slathered Arnold in fibreglass and gave him a spiffy new paintjob. Then it was time for the big fella to find his forever home in this endearing river town.

    The original plan was to plonk him in the middle of a roundabout at the entrance to Swan Hill, but the authorities – quite rightly – thought it would cause car accidents. I mean, really, who could possibly remember to give way to the right when there’s a great big guppy sitting there in all his glory?

    Arnold was, instead, shunted off to a less salubrious spot – next to the carp-ark at the local train station. Golly gosh, that would make that barra-Monday morning commute a little more palatable!

    Arnold is lovingly maintained, and there are a couple of benches to sit on whilst you bask in his briny glory. I must, however, take umbrage with his placement within the park. He’s squeezed in between a couple of parking lots that are usually quite full, meaning it can be quite difficult to fully enjoy Arnie’s magnificence.

    To make up for this bitter disappointment, the Tourist Information Centre up the road does sell scale replicas of Arnold. The Giant Murray Cod is also the featured fish on the Royal Australian Mint’s collection of commemorative Big Things coins.

    Honestly, what more could you fish for!

    Hey Arnold!

    With his movie star good looks and bad boy swagger, Arnold the Giant Murray Cod brings a touch of class to Swan Hill. He also attracters ‘haterz’, fuelled by jealousy for his acting success and popularity with the ladies.

    Enter Gordon Shumway, my business partner in Land of the Bigs and the former star of hit TV show, ALF.

    He had a bad attitude as soon as we stepped out of the Bigsmobile. Swaggering around the fish wearing his Gucci sunglasses and matching chambray tunic, it was clear that Gordon felt threatened by Arnold’s star power.

    “What numbers did Eight Ball do, bro?” Gordon snorted. “Yeah, Project: ALF did $850 mil, more on Blu-Ray.”

    Knowing that Project: ALF had been an unmitigated disaster that led to Gordon being blackballed from Hollywood, I could only roll my eyes. Stoic as ever, Arnold gazed impassively at the passing traffic.

    “Big guy,” Gordon rasped, jabbing a furry finger at the fish’s soft underbelly, “you’re not the first Arnold I’ve run out of town, and you won’t be the last.”
    “Gordon, stop lying,” I sighed. “You’ve never even met Arnold Schwarzenegger.”
    “Arnold Schwarzenegger? No, I Mean Arnold Finklestein from the pickleball club. That shmuck had the chutzpah to knock over my bowl of matzah ball soup!”

    Even a gentle giant fish has his limits. Arnold scooped up Gordon and, in a moment of madness, tried to swallow him whole.
    “Not again!” Gordon wept. “I’ve just washed the smell of trout out of my hair!”
    Springing into action, I plucked the little alien from the cod’s jaws, bundled him into the Bigsmobile, and screeched out of Swan Hill.

    “Gordon, buddy,” I said tenderly as I navigated the sweeping roads. “I know it must be difficult to deal with your waning celebrity, but…”
    “Just forget about it,” he shrugged. “Let’s go get some babka with Sly and Jean-Claude.”
    “You mean Sly Horowitz and Jean-Claude Kablinski, from the pickleball club?”
    “No, Sly Stallone and Jean-Claude Van Damme from Hollywood’s A-list. They’re in negotiations to play us in Land of the Bigs: The Movie. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Arnie!”

  • El Chapulín, Polanco, México

    El Chapulín, Polanco, Ciudad de México

    Where can you have an authentic Méxican meal, get a great night’s rest, and stare in open-mouthed wonder at an incredible Big Thing, all in the same place? Right here at the Presidente InterContinental Hotel in Mexico City’s trendy Polanco district – home to the beautiful and historic El Chapulín.

    That’s ‘The Grasshopper’ for you gringos. ¡Buen provecho!

    El Chapulín started life as the logo for what was originally known as the Presidente Chapultepec Hotel, and was designed by American artiste Lance Wyman in 1975. Chapultepec means ‘hill of grasshoppers’ in the ancient Aztec language, so it wasn’t a huge leap to settle on a giant insect.

    Having previously worked on the iconography for the 1968 Olympics and the Mexico City Metro, Lance brought a touch of class to the emblem, whilst celebrating the vibrant personality of this cheeky chap(ulín).

    The minimalist logo was so moving that, not only did the owners slather a 15-metre version of it across the top of the hotel, but also placed an immense stone rendition at the front door to greet customers.

    By the way, do you need to tip the doorman if he’s a two-tonne Aztec grasshopper?

    “I designed the hotel grasshopper using forms found in the Aztec period,” Lance explained. “When the hotel changed ownership it used a new logo. I remember feeling sad the first time I flew into Mexico City and the 15-meter grasshopper was no longer on top of the hotel.”

    Heartbreak, however, soon turned to hoppiness. Whilst the logo atop the building was removed, the stone statue of El Chapulín was saved. He soon moved to his current location in a courtyard opposite the Jardín Winston Churchill.

    Thanks, Lance – your work is Chapul-íncredible!

    They should’ve called him Dennis Hopper!

    So beloved is El Chapulín that there’s even a restaurant, right next to the statue, named in his honour. Serving traditional comida Méxicana, Chapulín is famous for its picaditas de camarón en salsa verde, pollo estilo Sinaloa, and ceviche verde de pescado.

    Bizarrely, the restaurant serves neither jalapeño hoppers nor Grasshopper cocktails. When I demanded an answer from the waitress, all I got was crickets. On the plus side, the restaurant’s very clean, so they’ll have no trouble with the health insectors.

    When I tore Mexico’s elite away from their meals to tell them those pithy one-liners, they started bugging out. I guess my hilarity’s lost in translation.

    “Mmmmm, this tostada de jaiba reminds me of my youth on the streets of Guadalajara,” I gibbered to my mí amiga, Bigella. I paused to elegantly wipe salsa macha from my chin. “I’d rise at dawn to shine shoes all day, just to earn enough dinero to buy a simple carne apache de atún madurado sobre tres piezas de tuétano.”
    “I thought you grew up in a waterfront bungalow in Vaucluse?” she responded.
    “Honestly,” I sighed, “my backstory changes so often that even I don’t remember anymore.”

    There was an uneasy silence. The two of us stared longingly at El Chapulín as we munched away on our perfectly-prepared postres. Helado de mangos con crema for myself. Pastel de queso a la leña con compota de frutos rojos for Bigella.

    “By the way, Bigella,” I said, jabbing an ice cream-sticky finger at her belly. “I’ve been meaning to ask about…”
    “Too many quesadillas,” Bigella snapped.
    “It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened that night in Andorra?”
    “Too many quesadillas.”
    “I told you, I was overcome by lust after visiting The Ponderer.”
    “Too. Many. Quesadillas.”

    Somewhere, in Parque Chapultepec, a loon cried out on the lake.

  • The Big Trout, Oberon, NSW

    The Big Trout, Oberon, New South Wales, Australia

    Want to enjoy a scrumptious Chinese dinner whilst admiring an enormous fish? Then head to the charming haven of Oberon, New South Wales, where you can have a photo with The Big Trout as you wipe succulent sweet ‘n’ sour sauce from your chin.

    The scaly scamp, with his flabbergasted expression, lives in front of the Oberon Rainbow Chinese Restaurant and the adjoining Big Trout Motor Inn. He arrived in 1989, a few months after the hotel opened, and has become a beloved symbol of the village, which is famous for fly fishing.

    Why anyone would want to fish for flies, I don’t know – teehee!

    The Trout may not be as large, famous or – let’s face it – handsome as that other Big Trout in Adaminaby, but he radiates with a folksy charm that could warm up the coldest Oberon morning.

    The Big Trout was refurb-fished in 2012, with the motel’s owners casting a wide net to find the right man for the job. That turned out to be local artist Mark Taylor, who not only tackled the task of repainting the fish, but also added the gorgeous mural behind him.

    Thankfully, The Big Trout is in good hands (which is ironic because, being a fish, he doesn’t have any). The motel and restaurant were sold a few years ago, with Chandra and Pav Ratnam taking over the fish-ility in 2020.

    They’ve splashed the cash renovating the hotel’s rooms, so you can spend all night peering out the window at their wet wunderkind, with all the comfort of clean bedsheets and reverse cycle air-conditioning.

    Chan and Pav, your spacious and well-appointed rooms really are the catch of the day!

    A Big Fish In A Small Pond (but it’s empty, so you can get up close and perch-onal for a photo)

    My chum, Gordon, is hooked on fly fishing, so it didn’t take much to convince him to head to Oberon with me. After spending the day with our rods in our hands we were famished, so we splashed off to the Rainbow Chinese for the deep-fried duck with plum sauce and a side of hot chips.

    No seafood for me – I didn’t want to upset the big guy out the front!

    The restaurant is is popular with the locals, so there was a long (fishing) line out the door, but it was definitely worth the bait. Fresh and juicy lamb, pork and chicken, with just the right amount of Oriental tang, tantalise the tastebuds.

    Unfortunately, things soon took a distasteful turn – and I’m not talking about the Szechuan beef, which was magnificent.

    Wanting to show off to his angling buddies, Gordon took to drinking like a fish. Inebriated on rice wine, he stumbled out of the restaurant and started breakdancing beneath the bosom of The Big Trout. Our finned friend, unaccustomed to such boorish behaviour, must’ve mistaken Gordon for a chubby little mealworm, and tried to eat him.

    Trouty, I’ve shared a car with Gordon after he’s had a Chinese feast – so trust me, you don’t want to do that!

    Showing nerves of steel, I grabbed the nearest Ugly Stik and rescued Gordon from the oversized mackerel’s jaws. A cacophony of cheers from the other diners, however, soon gave way to judgemental jeers at the small alien’s vulgar exploits.

    Fortunately, he passed out shortly after I took him back to our room, and I was able to finish my meal and go back to gawping at the big, concrete fish.

    Here is my handle, here is my trout

    When he woke up in our conservatively-priced twin cabana the next morning, Gordon was feeling a bit green about the gills.

    “I’m so embarrassed, I just want to get out of here,” he mumbled, putting on a pair of dark sunglasses. As I smuggled him out of there, Gordon barely even acknowledged The Big Trout. I know it’s a bad hangover when he can’t even be bothered worshipping an overside roadside attraction.

    Reversing the Bigsmobile out of the driveway, a hairy landed upon mine.
    “Don’t forgot my Mongolian lamb with a side of dim sims before we leave,” Gordon grumbled, jabbing a finger at the restaurant. I grinned at him and took off my seatbelt.
    “And some spring rolls?” I asked.
    “Of course, Bigs, and the special fried rice,” he chortled, before giving The Big Trout a cheeky wink. “Oberon out!”

  • Varanus the Big Goanna, Forbes, NSW

    Varanus the Big Goanna, Forbes, New South Wales

    Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother, you’re takin’ a drive, takin’ a drive… out to Forbes! There you’ll find Varanus, the grooviest goanna on the planet.

    The 20-metre-long metal lizard haunts the bushland southwest of town but, despite his remote location, usually has a few scantily-clad go-go girls jitterbugging around him. And this Fever doesn’t just happen on Saturday Nights, because you can see Varanus every day of the week!

    So pop on a crisp white suit and crank up the Bee Gees as we cut a rug with this very special Big!

    Varanus was built by that hippest of cats, sculptor Glen Star. A true visionary with a unique connection to the land, Glen crafted the enormous critter completely by hand, using the highest-quality steel.

    “Anyone who has been camping in the bush has probably seen a lace monitor,” Glen revealed. “The goanna is of special significance to the Wiradjuri people as a totemic animal, and a food source particularly during tough times. The bigger the gugaa (goanna), the more people fed.”

    The result is a remarkable Big that eviscerates the unyielding dichotomy betwixt science and mysticism. Varanus serves as the main attraction of the famed Sculpture Down The Lachlan art trail, along with Bird in Hand and Heart of Country.

    Despite his immense stature, Varanus blends perfectly in with his surroundings. Once the sun slips behind the gumtrees, however, it’s party time for this splendid squamate.

    Forget the Viper Room – the Lace Monitor Room is the freshest place to be seen! Awwwww, yeah!

    I’m not a girl, not yet a goanna

    Meet me at the place where we learned to electric boogaloo. Eleven words on a slip of unlined A3 paper, that had me racing back to Forbes. A town where I’d misspent my youth. A town I never dreamed I’d return to. Would the townsfolk even want me back?

    “John,” I muttered as I navigated the Bigsmobile through the winding backroads of western New South Wales. “Oh poor, sweet John.”
    “You don’t have to do this, you know,” whispered Gordon, placing a tiny hand upon mine. “The last time you helped him, you barely made it out alive.”
    “He’d do the same for me,” I shrugged, a tear rolling down my cheek. “At least, I hope he would.”

    It was almost closing time at the Post Office Hotel when I pushed through the heavy wooden doors. There he was slumped on the bar, surrounded by empty beer cans and framed by a halo of light from the toilet.

    “John!” I cried.
    “That’s Mr Travolta to you,” the figure slurred, then his eyes widened when he saw me. “Bigs!”

    We embraced, and it was if no time had passed since we’d first met on the set of the poorly-received Look Who’s Talking Now, where I’d performed admirably as John’s stunt double.

    “Bigs,” my pal blubbered, “I’ve wasted my life on my acclaimed acting career when I should’ve been focused on what’s important – travelling around Australia looking at oversized roadside objects.”
    “John, you’ve had one of Tinseltown’s most storied careers, money, women and –”
    “And I’d give it all back just to visit Ally the Alpaca.”
    “Come on now. You’ve visited many Big Things.”
    “Thirty-four,” he wept. “I’ve only seen 34 Bigs.”
    “Oh dear,” I gasped, taking the Hollywood hunk in my arms. John, I had no idea it was this bad.”

    John Travolta reached for another beer and I slapped it out of his hand.
    “You don’t need another drinky-poo,” I cooed, stroking his luxurious hair. “The only thing that will fix you is an enormous metal lizard.”

    John nodded sadly, and there was a flicker of hope in his chocolatey eyes.

    “Now put on that stunning white suit you wore in Saturday Night Fever,” I smiled, “and let’s get out of here.”

    But I don’t feel like dancin’ when the old goanna plays
    My heart could take a chance, but this Big Thing will make your day

    By the light of the silvery moon, John Travolta, resplendent in his flares and wide-lapelled cloak, chest hair bristling in the breeze, twirled the inimitable Bigs Bardot through the Australian bush whilst Varanus the Big Goanna watched on, smiling.

    “Here I am,” John cooed, busting out a brief crab dance. “Prayin’ for this moment to last.”
    “Livin’ on the music so fine,” I cawed, doing the floss beneath the eucalypts. “Borne on the wind,
    makin’ it mine.”
    “Night fever, night fever,” we called in perfect unison. “We know how to do it. Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show iiiiiiiiiit!”

    John and I collapsed to the heath, breasts heaving as we stared up at Varanus. The creature peered back approvingly and, for a moment, all was well in the world. Bigs Bardot and John Travolta would cross the Land of the Bigs, disco dancing in front of other large lizards such as Dirrawuhn, The Big Water Dragon, Lizzo, and Joanna the Goanna.

    “Yo toots, I gotta split,” John finally said, shattering my illusion of peace. “My private jet is waiting to take me to a bat mitzvah at Ron Howard’s place.
    “Lead the way,” I grinned, looking over at my friend’s custom-built Boeing 707-138, parked a few metres away from The Big Goanna. “I’ve been meaning to pitch a script for a Land of the Bigs movie to Ron for a while. Think Schindler’s List meets Screwballs.”

    “Aw, Bigs, you know I’d like to,” shrugged John, spinning on the spot and then pointing, dramatically, at the full moon. “But I just don’t have the room, babydoll.”
    “There are 189 seats on that aeroplane, John.”
    “Pookie, you know I need those seats for all my Academy Awards.”
    “John, John! I thought we were going to see Arthur Sprout tomorrow…”
    But John was already sailing through the skies on his luxury airliner.

    By the time I’d hiked the 5.5km back to Forbes, Gordon was finishing his nightcap in the front bar of the Post Office Hotel. Seeing my bedraggled party suit and broken-hearted gaze, he gave me a comforting smile and drew me in for a cuddle.

    “He did it again, didn’t he?” Gordon sighed, ruffling my hair. I just nodded sheepishly.
    “Then let’s dance it out,” he grinned. As we took to the pub’s dance floor, the people of Forbes surrounded us, hips thrusting and arms waving. For one night, the pubs of this central western village were transformed into the discotèques of late-70s Brooklyn.

    Oh, and if you’re wondering whether John’s ever been back to Forbes, the answer is a resounding no – and a few of the burlier members of the local rugby team will be there to meet him at the entrance to town if he tries to return.

    Travolta, you have been warned.

  • The Red Iguana, Salt Lake City, Utah

    Xochitónal the Red Iguana, Salt Lake City, Utah, United States of America

    At Red Iguana 2, a festively-painted cantina on Salt Lake City’s eclectic Temple Street, diners come for Xochitónal, the 33ft-long lizard in the carpark. But they stay for the authentic Mexican cuisine, competitively-priced drinks, attentive service and irresistible party atmosphere.

    Red Iguana‘s signature mole coloradito – a luscious blend of chocolate, pine nuts and guajillo chiles, blended with fresh poblano and served with carnitas – is enough to warm the heart of even the coldest-blooded critter.

    In a city where a slice of lukewarm pizza is considered gourmet fare (and I can say that because I grew up in Wyoming. And not the fancy-pants American Wyoming, either. The Australian Wyoming, where dinner-and-a-show consists of picking up a few cheeseburgers at Maccas and then splatting the pickles on parked cars), it’s no surprise the locals are willing to line up around the block for a piping-hot plate of cochinita pibil, lovingly garnished with pickled red onion.

    But enough about Red Iguana’s exquisite array of quesadillas and fajitas. We’re here to talk about the big guy out the front. After all, this iguana is hard to ig-nore!

    Red Iguana co-owner Bill Coker cooked up the plan in 2014, after encountering a concrete iguana – yes, THAT concrete iguana – while on holidays in Mexico with his lovely wife Lucy Cardenas.

    “My first intention was to make it concrete; I wanted it to be indestructible,” Bill told the SLC Tribune. “I wanted children to come up to it with their mouths open, asking, ’Daddy, is that alive?’”

    Whilst Bill knows his way around a taco, he lacked the world-class artistic skills such a project demanded. Then one day he happened upon an article about a remarkable young man who would be perfect for the job.

    That man was Stephen ‘Tusk’ Kesler.

    King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard

    Tusk hired out a warehouse in downtown SLC and spent the next two years working on the Red Iguana sculpture. Bill – wanting his Big Thing to be as memorable as his food – certainly didn’t skink on the construction costs!

    “I chose Stephen because he likes doing realistic animals, not cartoons,” Bill said proudly.

    Tusk first built a 1/6 scale model of the Red Iguana out of clay. He scanned that into his computer and, in a process that would bamboozle the world’s greatest minds, created a blueprint for the full-sized critter.

    He fed that into a fancy 3D printer, which spat out giant styrofoam pieces that he put together into the shape of the Iguana. Steve then slathered the whole thing in more than 600lb of clay. After that, he covered the varmint in thousands of ceramic rep-tiles.

    The Iguana was then sliced into bite-sized pieces once again. Silicone molds were made from those. Fiberglass body parts were made from the molds. The Iguana was then reassembled, and Tusk spent countless sleepless nights painting the lizard its trademark crimson hue.

    The critter was christened ‘Xochitónal’, after a gigantic iguana in Aztec mythology who guarded the Underworld.

    ”Bill and Lucy know what it takes to bring this kind of thing to life,” Tusk said at the time. “I don’t think any other restaurant owners would have had the patience or the understanding to get it done.

    “I wouldn‘t do this for anyone. I’m a huge fan of their food!”

    The 1000lb squamate was then loaded onto the back of a flatbed truck and, with the help of a police escort, driven through the streets of Salt Lake City.

    After months of anticipation, The Red Iguana was ready to be served to famished public.

    The Whole Enchilada

    After several hours admiring Xochitónal in the balmy Utah afternoon, Bigella Fernandez Hernandez and I had worked up quite an appetite. We popped into the Red Iguana and were seated at an exquisite table overlooking the Oquirrh Mountains.

    “Have you tried Mexican food before?” I asked Miss Hernandez Fernandez, who simply rolled her eyes at me.

    Peppers popped on an open flame. Margaritas glinted in the golden sunlight. A waitress waltzed over to take our order, and I assured Bigella that I would handle things.

    “¡Hola hombre!” I said smugly. “¡No busco tractores y guapos! ¡Quiero un aerodeslizador! ¡Antonio Banderas! ¡Spasibo!”

    The waitress just shook her head, obviously surprised to hear a gringo speaking perfect Spanish. As she left in a daze, I turned my attention back to Bigella.

    “I picked up a little español while living in the remote Mexican village of Cancún for six days back in 2022,” I informed her. “Let me know if you need any help with the menu.”

    Imagine my surprise when, rather than the virgin cocteles I had so expertly ordered, the waitress placed two small bottles of cerveza in front of us. In a moment of madness, I took a sip from the Modelo, and spent the rest of the afternoon fearing that I was tumbling into alcoholism.

    “Swap this out for a non-alcoholic piña colada, mami,” I wretched, as the waitress plonked plates of Mexican delicacies in front of us.

    “Watch out, Mexican food – though delicious – can be too spicy for a chalupita like you” I warned, tucking into a decadent tostada. Bigella, ever the daredevil, ladled fiery chile verde onto her chimichangas and stuffed them into her mouth. Not wanting to be upstaged, I poured an entire bottle of habanero sauce onto my superbly-prepared gringa and crammed it into my gob.

    The pain was indescribable, and for a moment my life flashed before my very eyes (criminy, did I visit a lot of big lizards – such as Joanna the Goanna, The Big Thorny Devil, Gonzo and Lizzo!). When I awoke, stripped to the waist, I was laying in the carpark, with Xochitónal gazing down on me in disgust.

    “Señor Bardot, eres el hombre más bobo que he conocido. Si no fueras el experto de atracciones de gran tamaño más famoso del mundo, te dejaría tirado en esa zanja.”

    “Wait a second!” I spluttered. “You can speak Indonesian?”

  • Larry the Lobster, Kingston SE, SA

    Larry the Lobster, Kingston SE, South Australia

    He’s huge, he’s handsome, he’d probably taste great slathered in a few litres of garlic butter. Please put your pincers together for the loveable, legendary, and oh-so-large Larry the Lobster!

    Jut watch out – he can be a bit crabby!

    At 17 metres tall, 15.2 metres long and 13.7 metres wide, and weighing in at four tonnes, Larry casts an imposing shadow over Kingston SE. Antennae up and maxillipeds agape, he welcomes visitors to the remote beachside town three hours south of Adelaide.

    World-weary travellers and little nippers alike will gasp in delight at Larry’s intricate exoskeleton and friendly, knowing eyes, which have been rerceated in stunning detail. He looks wonderful from a distance, but it is only by getting up claws and personal with The Big Lobster, sprawling out between his prodigious pereiopods that the full extent of his grandeur can be fully understood.

    Larry could very well be the Holy Grail of Big Things – culturally relevant, world famous, fantastically-realised, and astonishingly large. Needless to say, he’s a crust-see attraction!

    Could there be a better way to spend a crisp May afternoon than by taking a shellfie with a gigantic lobster, then popping into the on-site cafe for a fishburger and a strawberry thickshake?

    The service is snappy but, remarkably, they don’t serve lobster. But that’s probably for the best – it might upset Larry!

    As Happy As Larry

    Local lobster fisherman Ian Backler is the man to thank for coming up with the idea for Larry. After returning home from a holiday in the United States – where he undoubtedly gawked at many oversized roadside attractions – he was inspired to create one of his own.

    Teaming up with charismatic local chaps Rob Moyse and Ian Hannaford, the trio devised a plan that was as innovative as it was bonkers; build an enormous sea creature that would appear, to the untrained eye, to be attacking the town’s new tourist information centre. The just sit back and wait for the tourists to start pouring in.

    And there was only one man who could pull it off.

    Enter Paul Kelly. No, not the folk-pop icon, the visionary who built Scotty the Big Scotsman. Displaying rare genius, Paul bought a spiny lobster from a local fish and chip shop and had it stuffed to serve as his muse.

    Paul then rented out a warehouse in Adelaide and, over the next six months, built The Big Lobster. He started with a monstrous steel frame, then carved the details from foam, slathered the whole thing in fiberglass, and stood back to bisque in the lobster’s glory.

    On December 15, 1979 hundreds – perhaps thousands – of perky pescatarians lobbed up to see South Australian Premier Dave Tonkin reveal The Big Lobster to the world. In my mind, I picture Dave, atop a cherrypicker, lifting up the lid of one of those silver serving trays to reveal the enormous creature. But, in my heart of hearts, I know this to not be the case.

    Something like that would be cray-zy, even for a noted prankster like Dave Tonkin.

    But wait… there’s more-nay!

    As his shell-ebrity has grown, other crustaceans have attempted to steal Larry’s thunder. The town of Shediac, Canada is home to an imposter known as The World’s Largest Lobster. They should rename him The World’s Largest Con-Job as, at a paltry 11 metres long and two metres tall, the creature’s not even big enough to be served in a seafood basket at the local bowlo.

    Best to stick with Lucky Larry and some of Australia’s other supersized sea creatures, such as The Big Prawn, The Big Prawn, The Big Prawn or Gabby the Yabby.

    In 2015, a crayfish sculpture in Qianjiang, China pinched the Guinness Book of Records title for The World’s Largest Crustacean Sculpture. This was claws for concern as, much like the PRC’s faćade of democracy, it’s a big, fat lie. Despite claims that it’s 15 metres tall, photos show that this Oriental charlatan is only slightly larger than your average Chinaman.

    I’ll bring it up with Xi next time we meet up to play pickleball.

    Dirty Gordon, Crazy Larry

    Gordon was unusually quiet, ruminating over a bucket of calamari rings as we sat in The Big Lobster’s immense shadow. I’d expected the little alien to come out with one of his usual pithy comments, or try to climb up Larry so he could ride him. There was nothing, however, but the contemplative chewing of perfectly-cooked seafood.

    “You know, Bigs,” the plucky lad finally said, wiping tartare sauce from his chin as the sun dripped towards the horizon, “Larry really is the best of us.”

    I simply nodded, then watched a heron swaggering through the scrub as I allowed Gordon the time to gather his thoughts.

    “He’s the reason that we travel up and down these dusty roads,” my friend continued, jabbing a furry finger towards the towering lobster. “Why we’ve given up any vestige of normal life to chronicle to stories of Australia’s Big Things. A handful of normal men took a ludicrous idea and turned it into reality, and in doing so changed the culture of this country forever. They made millions of people happy with a work of art that, hand on heart, can proudly stand alongside anything the human race has ever accomplished.”

    Gordon’s words encapsulated my own feelings. All I could do was hug him in the waning light, until the ink black night enveloped us. When I finally opened my eyes, Larry the Lobster was illuminated, hovering over us like a four-storey fever dream.

    “Come on, let’s get out of here,” I smiled.
    “Sweet,” chuckled Gordon. “Can we get some butter-and-fennel-poached lobster rolls on the way home?”
    “Shhh,” I giggled, bundling Gordon into the Bigsmobile. “He’ll hear you!”

  • The Big Fish, Belfast, Northern Ireland

    The Big Fish, Belfast, Northern Ireland

    Holy mackerel, look at the size of that fish! Installed upon the steps of Donegall Quay one warm afternoon in 1999, The Big Fish, with her supple lips and bedroom eyes, has been many a Belfastian lad’s first kiss.

    It’s not uncommon to see a line of teens – and the odd curious tourist – waiting patiently for a memorable encounter with The Fish. You might call it a right of bass-age.

    Located on the confluence of the River Farset and the River Lagan, The Big Fish symbolises the reinvigoration of the city’s waterways. There was, not surprisingly, a heated de-bait when she was announced (and not just from the local lasses, who feared they’d be upstaged).

    This splendid example of urban kitsch was created by the delightfully droll John Kindness – and a more appropriately-named gentleman you could never hope to meet. Drawing on a lifetime of experience, he imbued the Fish with a mixture of pathos and buffoonery that’s just so very Irish.

    “A lot of artists have a fear of not being taken seriously, so they take themselves far too seriously,” John cooed. “Black humour is something I think Belfast people can’t help: finding some element of mirth in almost every situation.”

    Oh John, it’s enough to make you twist and trout!

    Each of the fish’s scales serves as a love letter to a moment in Belfast’s history. The industrial revolution. Aslan the Great Lion. George Best’s astonishing drinking exploits. The Ulster Museum provided reference images, and the area’s more artistic kiddies painted them on the side of the creature. I’ve been assured a scale celebrating Land of the Bigs’ visit will be added any day now.

    There’s even a time capsule hidden betwixt the fish‘s plump belly. I’d pike to be there when they finally open it!

    Know Your Sole

    Also known as the Salmon of Knowledge, this giant guppie was inspired by a famous Irish legend. As the tale goes, a regular, old salmon guzzled nine magical pints of Guinness and gained all the knowledge in the world.

    Don’t we all?

    Word subsequently spread across the emerald hills that the first person to eat the fish’s flesh would gain all of the knowledge. As a result, some guy – I imagine he looked a bit like beloved Broughshane-bred character actor, and long-time Land of the Bigs reader, James Nesbitt – heard about it and spent seven years hunting down the Salmon of Knowledge.

    When he finally caught the scaly critter, he handed him to Finn McCool – yes, that Finn McCool – and asked him to batter the fish.

    Fortunately, this was in Northern Ireland, where battery is the national pastime – teehee!

    Rather than do as he was told, Finn gobbled down the fish with a wedge of lemon, gained a millennia’s wisdom and insight, and went on to run the most profitable vape shop in Strabane. Or something like that.

    Inspired by the tale, I joined the line of excited Irishmen preening before the perch. My heart thudding in my chest, I stepped up to The Big Fish, whispered a few sweet nothings in her ear, and leaned in for my first smooch.

    How was it? Well, that’s between me, The Big Fish, and Dugald who was in the line behind me. Needless to say, I may not have gained the universe’s wisdom, but I did get an invigorating case of botulism.

  • Kong, Keswick, England

    Kong, Keswick, Lake District, England, United Kingdom

    The prophet, Bigs Bardot said: “And lo, the beast looked upon the streets of Keswick. And it stayed its hand from killing. And from that day, it was as one dead.” – Old Land of the Bigs Proverb

    A big, black, hairy guy has moved into the picturesque village of Keswick – and the locals just love him! Kong, a four-metre-tall gorilla with a cheeky grin and dark, chocolatey eyes, has found work as a bouncer at the appropriately-named outside Kong Adventure on Heads Road.

    Just a warning – he doesn’t tolerate any monkey business!

    He might look like a hirsute hard man, but Kong is a real softy. He enjoys painting his nails a variety of festive colours, and lights up the hamlet with his flamboyant hi-vis jacket. Kong’s certainly no chimping violet!

    Drag your knuckles inside Kong Adventure for a king-sized good time. On any gibbon Sunday, you’ll find the place crawling with thrillseekers.

    There’s plethora of rock climbing walls – they must have seven or ape of them – catering to all skill levels. Yes, there’s something for everyone, whether you’re a woman or a mandrill.

    There’s also an escape room and a playground for the kiddies, complete with a rope bridge and a scary dragon to climb on. I poked my head in there, but it looked like gorilla warfare to me – teehee!

    It’s on like King Kong!

    Despite his burly frame and sinewy, simian musculature, Kong doesn’t avail himself of the climbing apparatus. It brings back memories of a traumatic event that occurred at top of the Empire State Building a few years ago.

    More than anything, Kong just wants to find love. Each Valentine’s Day he stands, longingly, at the shop’s entrance, brandishing a love heart in the hope a woman will stop for quick smooch. But he hasn’t found that special someone yet. I guess there aren’t too many giant baboons in Keswick.

    Kong knows better than anyone that rock climbing is easier if you’ve got big hands, so it’s lucky that Entrust, fifteen-foot pair of paws, are just a few minutes walk away. You’ve gotta hand it to the people of Cumbria, they just love their Bigs!

    All this excitement is good for your appetite, so it’s lucky Kong Adventure boasts an on-site cafe, serving a scrumptious array of drinks and snacks. Give the banana cake a miss, though, or Kong might come for it!

    As I was admiring the facility, a friendly chap wearing neon armwarmers and a name-plate bearing the moniker Garrick trotted up to me.
    “Hi, I’m Garrick,” said Garrick. “Can I interest you in our all-day river rafting adventure?”
    “Sorry, Garrick,” I replied. “I’m here for a good time, not a Kong time!”
    “Oh, Bigs,” Garrick smirked, “you can’t go Kong with a giant monkey joke!”

    Garrick stared at me. I stared at Garrick. An awkward pause lingered in the air and it seemed, for a moment, that I may shuffle into the sun-dappled Keswick afternoon without another word being uttered.

    Then, in perfect synchronicity, we both drew breath before bursting into melody.

    “Yoouuuu shook me aaalllllllll night Kong!”

  • The Cowra Eagle, Cowra, NSW

    The Cowra Eagle, Cowra, New South Wales, Australia

    Rising above his surroundings like a Soviet phoenix, The Cowra Eagle serves as a tribute to the wedge-tailed wonders of Western NSW. With his barrel chest and piercing gaze, this Big has watched over his comrades since 1972.

    No wonder he’s the hawk of the town!

    The majestic creature was conceived and designed by the ever-affable Don Kibbler. Inspired by Cowra Council’s original corporate seal from 1888 – which featured a joyful eagle resting atop a cluster of rocks – he set about creating a landmark all Cowrans could be proud of.

    Don turned to talon-ted ironmonger Colin Cranny, of local company Lachlan Steel, to fabricate the Eagle. The sinewy legs were donated by the generous Dick Murney, and were made from two bore casings.

    The end result was a real sight for soar eyes – but the Eagle was missing a certain je ne sais quoi. He was originally built without his ‘shoulders’, and these were tacked on by prominent Cowra signwriter Peter Slattery.

    Tourists swooped into town in their thousands to sit in his shadow, surrounded by roses and marinating in the sweet sound of birdsong.

    When the new Visitor’s Centre was built in 1987, the Eagle was moved to his current position closer to the main road – without the rocks to cover his shapely pins. Many a feather was ruffled by the show of skin, but there are no claws against that.

    Let’s Go Where Eagles Dare!

    “Woh-oh-oh
    Come on fast, you can come on slow
    I’m just crazy ’bout the way we move
    Doin’ the Cowra Eagle Rock.”

    Gordon was in high spirits as we swaggered out of McDonald’s, Oreo-encrusted McFlurrys in hand, and sauntered towards The Cowra Eagle. He’d been yodelling along to his Daddy Cool cassette for days leading up to our visit, but his voice trailed off the moment he saw the avant-garde avian.

    We stood there, ice cream dripping down chins, in gobsmacked silence. Even amongst the towering liquidambars, the winged wunderkind rules the roost. The Eagle’s raw construction and brutalist lines seem, at first, more at home in some snow-swept Russian hellhole – but he retains an undeniable 70s sense of fun.

    This a Big who would look great with an afro wig perched atop his head. Make it happen, Cowra Council!

    Though unique in his design, The Cowra Eagle is just one of many oversized birds found across the Land of the Bigs. New South Wales is home to The Big Chook, The Big Kookaburra, Stanley, Charlie, The Big Bowerbird and Canoli. There’s Pelican Pete, Katey Seagull, The Big Parrot and The Big Honeyeater in Queensland. Bruno, Chickaletta, The Big Kingfisher, The Big Emus and another Eagle all live in Victoria. And, of course, Tasmania’s Big Penguin.

    As Gordon and I spread our wings for these photos, a young girl and her grandfather wandered over.
    “Look at that bald eagle,” gasped the child, pointing in our direction.
    “Fascist!” shouted Gordon.
    “Yeah, my closely-cropped hairstyle is a fashion choice,” I sneered. “I could grow it out any time I want.”
    “Fascist!” Gordon repeated.

    I doubt he knew the meaning of the term, bless him, but it’s the unbridled hatred that counts.

  • Chrome on the Range 2, Grand Junction, CO

    Chrome on the Range II, Grand Junction, Colorado, United States

    Oh give me a home, where a Big Buffalo roams. Where a Big Lego Man and Big Ant like to plaaaaaaaaay. Well, pardner, it looks like your new home is Grand Junction, Colorado, a leafy oasis that’s just bursting with beautiful Bigs.

    It’s right there in the name – they don’t call it Small Junction, after all!

    Mosey on down the quirky main street, past the eccentric coffee shops selling kiln-roasted lattes, and you will stop, mesmerised, before a gleaming beast of epic proportions. This, my friend, is Chrome on the Range II, a 7ft-tall buffalo pieced together from shiny chrome bumper bars.

    The chrome critter was crafted by Aspen artiste Lou Wille, as the centrepiece of the town’s Art on the Corner initiative. The United Bank, where he was to be placed, took the bull by the horns and tipped in $20,000, with enthusiastic locals matching that effort. He was installed in 1989.

    ‘Chromey’ stands as a monument to a nation in a state of flux. The untamed past collides with a corporate present. The wild west meets offbeat small-town charm. Brazen yet bashful, vulgar yet wistful, this artwork offers a nostalgic look at the beating heart of America.

    As his name suggests, Chrome on the Range II was based on a similar attraction – known as Chrome on the Range I – located a few hours drive away at the John Denver Sanctuary. It’s a rare case where the sequel is even more incredible the original.

    I do think, however, they missed a trick by not naming him Chrome on the Range II: Chrome Harder.

    There’s No Place Like Chrome

    With Chrome on the Range II inviting a higher calibre of tourist into town, Grand Junction evolved into a bohemian enclave. Sadly, like the buffalo that once roamed these pastures, these halcyon days of economic prosperity were driven away by the endless march of time.

    A number of banks occupied the building behind Chromey, before the most recent said, “bye, son!” and abandoned it a couple of years ago. The Big, Shiny Buffalo, once an ode to the American dream, now serves as a melancholy meditation on economic and social decay.

    But wipe away those tears, because this overgrown cow will stand proudly on the corner of Main and 4th for-heifer.

    “Nobody needs to worry,” bellowed Sarah Dishong, project coordinator for Downtown Grand Junction, amid rising concern. “The buffalo has been here for decades and is a part of our permanent collection. The piece isn’t going anywhere.”

    So grab a tumeric mocha and spend a moment beside this perfectly-polished buffalo. Look into his big, knowing eyes. Rub his bulbous head. Kiss his glossy, yet mournful, cheek. Sit, cross-legged beneath his learning tree, and allow the history of the United States to wash over you.

    Of course, some ‘haters’ claim that Chromey doesn’t count as a Big, because he’s not much larger than a regular bison – but I say that’s a load of bull!

  • The Big Kingfisher, Strathfieldsaye, VIC

    The Big Kingfisher, Strathfieldsaye, Victoria, Australia

    Amidst the rolling glens and castle-like homesteads of the sprawling Imagine Estate, an enormous kingfisher surveys his kingdom. This steel-and-perspex critter was built by gifted artist Folko Kooper and, perched high above a billabong, offers a breathtaking photo opportunity for all Bigs-thusiasts.

    Pleased with my happy snaps – my light grey shirt really popped against the native flora – I prepared to leave the park when an unusually hairy gentleman, bereft of shirt, invited me to lay down beside him on the estate’s lush grass. Wriggling a little closer, his unkempt beard tickling my cheeks, the man presented me with a toothy grin.

    “Bigs, did you ever hear the story of the Fisher King?” he asked.

    “Don’t you mean the kingfisher?” I replied, gesturing towards the giant, blue-and-brown bird perched above us.

    “Kingfisher, Fisher King, I always get that front to back,” the screwball squawked. “Anyway, the story begins with the brightly-coloured kingfisher as a chick, having to spend the night alone in the forests of Strathfieldsaye, to prove his courage so he can become king of the entire medium-density housing development.”

    “Ooh, I wish I had some popcorn,” I cooed, snuggling in closer to the shaggy street urchin. “This is getting good.”

    Hail to the Kingfisher

    “Now, while he’s spending the night alone, the little bird is visited by a most unusual vision of a fire,” my chum chirped. “Out of the fire appears the Holy Grail, symbol of God’s divine grace. And a voice said to the kingfisher, ‘You shall be keeper of the Grail, so that it may heal the hearts of all the world’s winged creatures.’”

    “Oh me, oh my!” I piped up. “I had similar delusions after I ate a whole tray of lasagne right before bed!”

    “But the kingfisher was blinded by greater visions of a life filled with power, and glory, and beauty. And in this state of radical amazement, he felt for a brief moment not like an average-sized bird, but like a really, really big bird – like The Big Kookaburra…”

    “Or the The Big Pheasant? The Big Eagle? The…”

    “Yes, Bigs, that’s quite enough of that. So the bird reached into the fire to take the Grail, and the Grail vanished, leaving him with his wing in the fire, to be terribly wounded.”
    “Golly, this sounds like it’s getting a bit gruesome for Land of the Bigs!”

    “Now as this bird grew older, his wound grew deeper,” the crackpot continued. “Until one day, life for him lost its reason. He had no faith in any avian. Not even himself. He couldn’t love, or feel loved. He was sick with experience, and he began to die.”

    “Criminy,” I wept. “That’s exactly how I felt when they tore down The Big Pineapple.”

    “Really, Bigs, can we go five minutes without hearing about The Big Pineapple?”

    The Last Kingfisher of Bendigo

    “One day, a fool wandered into the estate, and found the kingfisher alone by the entrance to the carefully-landscaped Emu Garden,” the teller of tales tweeted. “And being a fool, he didn’t see a king of birds. He only saw a bird alone, and in pain. And he asked the kingfisher, ‘What ails you, friend?’

    “The kingfisher replied, ‘I’m thirsty – I need some water to cool my throat.’ So the fool took a cup, filled it with water, and handed it to the creature. As the kingfisher began to drink, he realised his wound was healed! He looked in his wings, and there was the Holy Grail, that which he sought all his life. And he turned to the fool and said with amazement, ‘How can you find that which my brightest and bravest could not?’

    “And the fool replied, ‘I don’t know. I only knew that you were thirsty.’”

    The two of us lay back in silence, allowing the enormity of the story to wash over us. I turned to my new friend and when I did, his eyes were deep and blue and crinkled in the corners.

    “And that’s why they decided to build a statue of kingfisher here?” I whispered. “So that the people of Strathfieldsaye shall never forget that what they yearn for may harm as well as heal? That redemption can be found in the unlikeliest of places?”

    “No,” the vagrant shrugged. “Some suit in Melbourne probably picked it out of a catalogue in order to give the place some semblance of character. I just like the story.”

    And with that the hobo sat up, brushed the grass from his shoulders, and wandered off into the labyrinthine streets of Greater Bendigo, never to be seen again.

  • Lizzo the Lizard, Somersby, NSW

    Lizzo the Big Lizard, Somersby, New South Wales, Australia

    It’s Big Thing o’clock, yeah, it’s lizard-thirty
    I’m here in Somersby and it’s real purty (okay)
    Is everybody set for someone scaly?
    Who you can visit all up on the daily
    Lizzo can make you smile quite gayly
    How you feelin’? How you feel right now?

    Ooooh, Lizzo the Big Lizard’s a treasure
    Find her near the Aus Reptile Park, yeah
    Oh, she’s not the creature she was or used to be
    Uh, Biggies, she’s even better!

    Turn up Pile Street, then on the right
    I got a feelin’ you’ll see something nice
    Okay (okay), alright
    It’s about damn time!
    Stop for a photo, yes that’s the way!
    I got a feelin’ she’s gon’ make your day
    Okay (okay), alright
    Lizzo is damn fine!

    In a minute, you’ll go completely mental
    ‘Cos Ploddy‘s nearby to pump you up
    So is Frilly, she’ll make you feel really silly
    But remember you’re fabulous
    I enjoyed Lizzo so dang much
    I split into like two Bigs Bardots
    One to get up, one to get down
    Both will help you smile, not frown

    Ooooh, Lizzo the Big Lizard’s a treasure
    With her frilled neck and toothy smile, yeah
    Oh, she’s not the creature she was or used to be
    Uh, Biggies, she’s even better!

    Liz might be ageing, but don’t have a fright
    I got a feelin’ she’s gon’ be alright
    Okay (okay), alright
    Oh yeah she’ll be fine (fine)
    Older Big Lizards can, still celebrate (alright)
    I got a feelin’ Lizzo wants to go out and play
    Okay (okay), alright
    She’s still in her prime

    Lizzo’s comin’ out tonight, she’s comin’ out tonight (uh-huh)
    To Club Troppo tonight, ‘cos it’s Saturday night (wooooo!)
    Vodka Cruisers tonight, get in a fight tonight
    Okay (okay), alright (alright)
    It’s Troppo time!
    Club Troppo’s closed tonight, (oh no) has been since ’06, why? (closed since ’06, why?)
    Nowhere to go tonight, Gosford is dead tonight (woo)
    Need a plan for tonight, let’s break the time-space continuum tonight (break the time-space continuum tonight)
    Okay (okay), alright
    Let’s go back in time!

    And that’s the story of how Lizzo the Big Lizard, Bigs Bardot the much-loved roadside attraction savant, Gordon the rambunctious alien, Gideon the gooey guacamole, and Bigs Bardot’s evil-yet-whimsically-handsome clone invented time travel, just so they could head back to 2001 and dance to Craig David’s 7 Days whilst sucking on watered-down frozen cocktails and avoiding the near-constant dancefloor scuffles at the legendary Club Troppo.

    A brief note on Lizzo’s current legal situation

    It’s recently been brought to my attention that Lizzo – the remarkably talented, deliciously robust, African American pop singer, not the remarkably large, deliciously anatomically accurate, Indigenous Australian lizard – has been cancelled due to some rather serious sexual misconduct charges.

    Please be aware that the passionate and diverse Land of the Bigs team does not condone such behaviour. After months of negotiations with the Australian Reptile Park, I’ve been assured that Lizzo’s open invitation to the Quoll Experience has been revoked.

    Woo child, we’re just sick of your bulldust.

  • Mike the Headless Chicken, Fruita, CO

    Mike the Headless Chicken, Fruita, Colorado, United States of America

    Have you been running round like a headless chicken in search of roadside attractions? Then strut over to Fruita, Colorado, where you’ll find a bonkers statue dedicated to Mike the Headless Chicken!

    The bizarre story of a chook who lived for 18 months after having his noggin lopped off – and went on to become a national celebrity – has long enthralled locals and visitors alike. A four-foot effigy to Mike, lovingly created by local artist Lyle Nichols, can be found outside the Aspen Street Coffee Co on the town’s leafy main street.

    There’s no need to walk around on eggshells when visiting, because the mother hens at the cafe are really quite lovely. Maybe give the omelettes a miss, though – you might offend Mike.

    The headless heartthrob’s no spring chicken, having been revealed to a bemused gathering of admirers back in March of 2000. Carefully crafted from 300 pounds of old metal farm castoffs, including axe heads and sickle blades, Mike fits in with the many oddball artworks scattered around this quirky village.

    “I made him proud-looking and cocky,” Lyle cock-a-doodle-dooed, before joking that he gave the Fruita chamber of commerce a discount because Mike didn’t have a head.

    Despite living just up the road from another Big, the legendary Grrrreta the Grrrreat Big Dinosaur, Mike certainly rules the roost in Fruita. The locals even throw a festival – or should that be nest-ival? – in his honour every June. With a 5km fun run, chicken dancing competition and displays from the region’s craft breweries, there’s always a few sore heads the next morning.

    But I guess that’s better than having no head at all!

    Where’s Your Head At?

    The legend of Mike the Headless Chicken goes back to September 10, 1945. Fruita chap Lloyd Olsen, long henpecked by his domineering mother-in-law, decided to win her over with a succulent chicken dinner. Taking his prized cock, Mike, into the backyard, Lloyd kissed him goodbye and then lopped off his head with an axe.

    And that’s when things got interesting. Instead of laying down to be served with a side of steamed vegetables, Mike went about his day, strutting around and fluffing up his feathers. Lloyd, who couldn’t believe his cluck, fed the decapitated bird with an eye-dropper. It was then that he saw signing signs.

    Leaving his mother-in-law was unfed, Lloyd scooped up his headless chicken and rushed off to the University of Utah. There, the resident boffins proclaimed that Mike had just enough of a brain stem left to go on as if nothing had happened.

    Well, it’s not as though fully-intact chickens are solving the secrets of the universe, anyway.

    Lloyd hired a manager for Mike, and the bonceless bird immediately beaked the curiosity of the public. Soon he was travelling across America and appearing on the front cover of everything from Life magazine to Bird Fanciers Quarterly. Thousands – if not millions – lost their minds when they chooked him out.

    Mike was the cock of the walk. Tabloids of the day caught him partying with Hollywood bad boy Gregory Peck, and stepping out with actresses Ingrid Birdman and Vivi-hen Leigh. The biggest star since Cluck Gable, many thought him destined. But one should never count one’s chickens – headless or otherwise – before they hatch.

    One windswept night in Arizona, after a year-and-a-half without a head, Mike choked to death on a kernel of corn.

    Beakle-Mania was over. Lloyd’s mother-in-law finally received her chicken feast.

    Mike was immortalised in The Guinness Book of Records (as the longest surviving headless chicken), and the docu-hen-tary Chick Flick: The Miracle Mike Story. Pop royalty penned ballads about him. Mike the Headless Chicken by Sandy Lind lit up the charts, as did Headless Mike by The Radioactive Chicken Heads (An instant celebrity/He toured the country in an auto/Probably the greatest thing/To ever come from Colorado).

    Mike brought newfound respect to chickens worldwide. He inspired other Bigs such as California’s Chicken Boy, and Charlie, Chickeletta and The Big Chook over in Australia.

    Quite a chicken-feat, but nothing serves as a greater tribute to his legacy than the BIG statue in his hometown of Fruita. Cheeky, handsome and truly individual, you’ll have egg on face if you don’t see it!

  • The Big Beavers, Beaver, Utah

    The Big Beavers, Beaver, Utah, United States of America

    Leave it to Beaver to create a couple of the cutest, cuddliest critters you’ve ever seen! The handsome rodents call the local Shell gas station home, and the good people of Beaver – an eccentric village nestled high in the Mineral Mountains of Southern Utah – are just as proud as punch of them.

    Nicknamed Justin and Sigourney by besotted locals, The Big Beavers sit abreast a comfy bench overlooking the snow-capped ranges. Whittled from locally-sourced lumber and sporting a cheeky, comical charm, they make for the perfect photo op.

    No wonder the town was named after them – just look at those chubby cheeks!

    Whilst neither beaver is as large as their famous counterpart in Australia, they have inspired a merchandising empire. The gas station offers a range of beaver-related nik-naks such as magnets and caps, but is best known for one particular item – their patented ‘I ♥️ Beaver’ shirts.

    The tees seem like the perfect keepsake from a memorable vacation to Beaver, but have a darker side. The slogan is actually a tasteless pun, serving as a putrid commentary on the female form.

    Honestly guys, grow up. You have two of the loveliest Bigs outside your front door to revere and exploit, but you’d rather wallow in the gutter of puerile wordplay. Those disgraceful garments better be gone next time I mosey through Beaver, or there’ll be trouble – and you’d better beav-lieve that!

    And then I saw her face. Now I’m a Big Beaver!

    Unfortunately, this particular Shell gas station has been the subject of several unsavoury reviews over the years. Local tough guys are known to seek out clueless goobers at the bowser, claim that their tyres have deteriorated, then lead them to the mechanic workshop across the way for an outrageously-priced new set.

    It’s an otter disgrace, really.

    Bigs Bardot, your fearless guide through the Land of the Bigs, is not an easy target. So when a chubby chap in a Utah Tech sloppy joe trotted over with a big smile on his face whilst I was pumping gas, I didn’t hesitate in taking him down with a perfectly-executed kimura clutch (taught to me by the late, great Kimbo Slice during one of our many visits to the License Plate Guitar in St George).

    Whilst that devastating maneuver was enough to disable the crook, Bigella took it upon herself to beat him really quite severely with her purse. Well, don’t get between a fiery Latina and a couple of oversized mammals!

    Minutes later, whilst a shocked yet enthralled crowd cheered us on, the thug rolled over, sighed in agony and held up a pen and paper with trembling hands.

    “Bigs, Bigs, I just wanted an autograph, my guy!” he spluttered through a maw of broken teeth. “I’m a huge fan of your website and admire you on a personal and professional level. I knew that if I waited here by The Big Beavers long enough, you’d eventually turn up. It took six long years, but it was worth it. You’re an inspiration!”

    Turns out he was just another infatuated fan. Oh, how we laughed at the misunderstanding!

    Unfortunately, I can’t post the photos we took with our new friend as they’re rather unsettling. But I hope you had a great day, Chester, and best of luck with the recovery. The next 18 months of intense and invasive physiotherapy will fly by!

    An Un-beaver-lievable Fact!

    Beaver is the birthplace of country ‘n’ western bad boy Butch Cassidy, and Philo Farnsworth, the chap who invented television. But nobody really cares about them because they’re completely overshadowed by The Big Beavers.

  • Joaquin the Dog, Ciudad de Guatemala

    Joaquin the Dog, Guatemala City, Guatemala

    Bigs is back, dressed in lilac
    With tiny Gordon on his back
    At Arca de Noé
    Guatemalan pet shop, so you know

    Joaquin the Dog
    Just Joaquin the Dog
    If you haven’t been to see him
    I’ll help you find Joaquin the Dog

    As a French bulldog it makes sense
    That Joaquin is a bit intense
    But he’s a misunderstood guy
    If Joaquin’s left alone at night he’ll cry

    Joaquin the Dog
    Just Joaquin the Dog
    If you’re in Guate City do it
    Get out there, find Joaquin the Dog

    Come on now, come on, come on!

    Like Joaquin, Gordon is hairy
    A kind yet misconceived fellow
    They’ve got silver collars and Guatemalan dollars
    Let’s all watch their romance grow

    Joaquin the Dog
    Just Joaquin the Dog
    Put down your Pollo Campero
    Soon you’ll be with Joaquin the Dog

    Come on now, come on, come on
    Oh oh, just a, just a, just a Joaquin
    Just a, just a, just a Joaquin
    Just a, just a, just a Joaquin

    Oh yeah, if you want to see a statue sit
    No-one sits like Joaquin the Dog, oh

    Just a, just a, just a, just a, just a, just a Joaquin!
    Just a, just a, just a, just a, just a, just a Joaquin, oh!

  • Spot the Dalmatian, Manhattan, New York

    Spot the Dalmatian, Manhattan, New York, United States of America

    Dogs love chasing cars, but this pooch actually caught one. Of course, it helps that she’s 38 feet tall! Spot the Dalmatian is the pet project of roguish sculptor Donald Lipski, and can be found loyally guarding the Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital in Manhattan.

    Playful, joyous and large enough to stand out amongst the chaos of the city, Spot’s not only man’s best friend – she’s man’s BIGGEST friend!

    A remarkable example of urban roadside architecture that blends the comical with the hyperreal, Spot consists of a stainless steel frame covered by a rather fetching fiberglass dog body. Toyota donated a full-sized Prius taxicab to balance upon her snout and, whilst the engine has been removed, the headlights work when it’s dark and the wipers wave whimsically during inclement weather.

    Donald, ever the altruist, designed the doggy to take the spotlight off the tribulations of the hospital’s young guests.

    “It’s a privilege to be able to do this for the kids,” the artiste growled. “I wanted to make something so astounding it would distract even those arriving for the most serious procedures, and so loveable that young patients coming back again and again with chronic conditions would see it as an old friend.”

    The local kiddies are probably begging for a broken leg or a case of the sniffles!

    “I like to think that the parents, the doctors and nurses and staff, the neighbours, will all be smitten by this playful, heroic young dog doing the impossible,” Don yapped. “Art has actual healing power. That’s a fact!”

    Proving that you can, indeed, teach an old dog new tricks, Donald saw this as an opportunity to spruce up an aging part of Manhattan. The massive mutt was adopted by the city in 2018 and given the humorous moniker of Spot, surely a commentary on the inhumane naming conventions of modern American pets.

    Personally I would’ve called him Bark Obama, or named him after that famous New York pop artist, Andy War-howl!

    Dog-tor, dog-tor, gimme the news
    I got a bad case of lovin’ you!

    Laughter is the best medicine, but a two-and-a-half storey dog must be a pretty close runner-up. Fortunately, you don’t need to be sick to see Spot, just bound through the East Side of New York and you’re bound to spot her. But please consider printing off a map before you leave your hotel, as phone reception can be quite spotty – teehee!

    When I visited Spot, she was wearing a mask – probably to ward off COVID canine-teen! She’s a good girl and very approachable, but there are a few ambulances around, so be patient. And remember, Dalmatians to the hospital are always welcome!

    Oh, and if she’s not there when you visit, don’t bother putting up a giant lost dog sign, because Spot’s probably swanning about in the Meatpacking District!

    Come on, these jokes surely deserve a round of a-paws!

    There may be 101 Dalmatians, but there’s only one Spot. There are, however, many other Bigs around the Big Apple, such as Private Passage and Adam. Forget dining in Michelin-starred restaurants or taking in an acclaimed Broadway show when you’re in New York – do what your old friend Bigs Bardot did and spend all your time traipsing through the traffic in search of oversized architecture.

    Of course, if Spot has you frothing at the mouth at the prospect of seeing more massive mongrels, you’re in luck. From The Big Golden Dog and Pat the Dog to Big Dog and Joaquin the Dog and California’s Yard Dog, the world really has gone to the dogs!

    Hey Mr DJ, put a record on, I wanna dance with my puppy

    As I worshipped at Spot’s prodigious paws, a pair of slender hands covered my eyes from behind, their owner struggling to suppress a giggle.

    “Guess who,” came a syrupy, yet all-too-familiar voice. The hands were removed and I turned to see my close friend, beloved character actor DJ Qualls. You might know him as the skinny guy from the 2000 comedy classic Road Trip. I just know him as Deej.

    We first met, quite appropriately, at a dog obedience school out in Calverton. Neither of us owned a dog, it was just a good way to meet people. And it worked, because it was puppy love at first sight.

    “I certainly hope you’re here for the enormous Alsatian, and not for something more serious,” yelped Deej in his trademark southern cadence, and my heart broke as I saw genuine concern in his chocolatey eyes. He may be a renowned Hollywood hard man, but DJ Qualls does indeed have a softer side.

    “He’s a Dalmatian,” I replied with an impish grin, drawing Deej to my bosom for a hug. “And I’ve never felt more alive.”

    The details of our conversation shall accompany me to the grave but that afternoon, in the blooming shadow of Spot the Dalmatian, DJ Qualls and Bigs Bardot – two wandering souls thrust together by happenstance – explored life and love and the metaphysical realm that flows between us all.

    And dogs. We talked a lot about dogs.

    Hours later, Deej yawned one of his complex yawns, and looked from the yellow cab atop Spot’s nose to me with those eternal puppy dog eyes.
    “Well Bigs, I have a taxicab confession to make – I’m beat,” he uttered. “Hopefully we’ll run into each other beneath another Big Thing soon.”
    “I’m sure we will, Deej, I’m sure we will.”

    We lingered in each other’s embrace for a sumptuous moment, then DJ Qualls scurried up Spot’s back and ripped open the taxi’s door. After one final sleepy grin, he climbed inside and curled up on the front seat, safe for the night.

    Well, New York is notoriously expensive, even for a Hollywood heartthrob.

  • Lenny the LGBee, Manchester, England

    Lenny the LGBee, Manchester, England, United Kingdom

    Cute, camp and draped in the rainbow hues of the pride flag, Lenny the LGBee should be the queen of Manchester’s buzzing gay community. Sadly, when I arrived for our playdate, this not-so-creepy crawly was locked within a cage of his own sexual and genderial repression.

    Honestly, it would be honey if it wasn’t so tragic.

    Lenny can be found in a quiet corner of Sackville Gardens in the seductive Gay Village, where the city’s effervescent gay, trans, non-binary, intersex, and furry folk congregate. There’s even a statue dedicated to renowned homosexual and self-confessed Big Thing tragic, Alan Turing – yas, queen, he who inspired the nearby Manchester Lamps.

    To reach the Gardens, sashay your way down Canal Street, head past A Monument to Vimto, and take a left at the public toilet. During the day the park is a great place to play fris-bee with a blue-haired omnisexual with a fluro g-string and xi/xim pronouns – hi, Crispin! – but becomes a real hive of activity after dark.

    Not that I’d know anything about that – teehee!

    A statue as grand as Lenny should be honey to the bee for any Bigs fans. When myself, Bigella, Gordon and Gideon the Guacamole visited, however, we found him gazing longingly at his fellow gays from betwixt the bars of his steel cage of oppression, tears of ignominy cascading down his chubby little cheeks.

    Insecurity and societal pressure had forced him to bow to the toxic whims of heteronomativity. But how did a would-bee gay icon find himself in such a perilous position?

    There’s No Place Like Honeycomb

    Lenny is a handsome, unique creature, but he’s just one of more than a hundred similar bees that spread their wings across Manchester as part of the 2018 Bee in the City Festival. Delightfully detailed one and all, none have captured the imagination quite like Lenny.

    He was installed by some of the area’s brawnier transmen during a weekend-long working bee, and revealed to a curious public in a ceremony attended by prominent pollenticians, wrestler Sting and Land of the Bigs reader/astronaut Buzz Aldrin.

    Hard rock group The Bee Gees even sang their hit single, Stayin’ A-Hive.

    “The LGBTQ+ Bee design is a symbol of LGBT Pride,” local chap Carl Austin-Behan bee-med. “The legacy and poignancy of Alan Turing’s life is mirrored in the eyes of this beautiful Bee. Street names and landmarks tell the story of the Bee’s new home at the heart of the Village. This sculpture inspires us to accept, embrace and celebrate life in all its glorious forms. The ultimate message is love is love.”

    Bee’s here, bee’s queer, get used to it! But it would take someone with a special talent – not just for finding Big Things, but for helping semi-closeted insects negotiate the labyrinthine alleyways of the sexuality spectrum – to make Lenny believe that.

    The Emancipation of Lenny the LGBee

    With the cold metal wires of cishet indoctrination rising like a wall of self-flagellation between Lenny and his community, I looked the bee-hemoth in the eyes and presented him with a sad, knowing smile.

    “Look, babe, you can’t stay inside that cage of philosophical constraint forever,” I cooed. “I hope that one day you can be as comfortable with your gender-bending sexual fluidity as I am with my rugged, unbridled heterosexuality.”

    Bigella and Gordon chuckled. I assume they saw a funny-looking dog or something. Lenny simply stared at me through the steel bars.

    “Lenny,” I continued, my words carrying more weight than ever, “repeat after me because it’s affirmation time. I am valid and deserving of love and acceptance for who I truly am. My gender and sexual identity is beautiful and unique. It deserves to bee respected. I have the right to express myself authentically. I am courageous for embracing my authenticity and continuing to grow into myself.”

    Lenny mumbled the words at first, not quite bee-lieving them. Then as Bigella and Gordon and Gideon and a small collection of open-minded folk crowded around in support, his words became louder. Clearer. More robust. The real Lenny the LGBee was starting to reveal himself. And what emerged from that crysalis of emotional seclusion wasn’t just beautiful.

    It was fabulous, darling.

    By the time we left Sackville Gardens, with the ruby-red sun sinking below the adult shops and vegan cafes of Canal Street, Lenny had take his rightful place as the Queen Bee of Manchester. The Summer of Buzz, my friends, is upon us.

  • Chango Con Banjo, Ciudad de México

    Chango con Banjo, Ciudad de México, México

    Hey, hey, he’s a monkey!
    And people say he monkeys around
    But he’s too busy singing
    In the middle of México Town!

    With his outlandish dance moves and carnal passion for raucous bluegrass music, Chango Con Banjo is chimply irresistible! Famous for boogying up a storm on the renowned Avenida Juárez, this funky monkey has been a real ba-boon to the tourism industry since arriving in 2017.

    Beloved Méxican artiste José Sacal constructed Chango from bronze, with the aim of bringing a little levity to a chaotic corner of México City. With his preposterous proportions and oversized guitar (which appears to be a Gibbon Les Paul), this Big really is capuchin-credible!

    At three metres tall, Chango dominates the streetscape and attracts of steady stream of curious, yet delighted, admirers. His madcap antics are certainly more palatable than the area’s other street performers, who consist of tone-deaf accordion players and street urchins dressed as Spider-Man.

    Chango’s behaviour may be colourful, yet his complexion is anything but. He rocks an understated copper hue, which belies his extravagant personality. Call me crazy, but I think the locals should paint him orange-utan!

    So popular is this hirsute heartthrob that he even dictates México City’s fashion trends. It’s not uncommon to see Chilangos of all ages strolling through the streets with gaudy monkeys perched atop their happy heads.

    Bigella and I, forever the fashionistas, weren’t going to miss out, and blissfully explored the city with colourful critters cuddling our craniums.

    It’s the perfect attire for a day of monkeying about in México!

    Hey, Mr. Tamarin Man, play a song for me!

    Whilst Chango’s bombastic message of love and acceptance comes through loud and clear, this guitar-wielding gorilla does not actually make a sound. I guess José ran out of time to wedge a bluetooth speaker within his bronzed banjo.

    However, one simply needs to close their eyes, block out the noise of the passing traffic, and imagine the ebullient concoction of tunes he would play. (Please be mindful that doing so will leave you open to pickpocketing – a small price to pay for such a wholesome experience)

    Monkey Wrench by the Foo Fighters. Dance Monkey by Tones and I. His cadence is a sumptuous gumbo of virtual pop-punk pranksters Gorillaz, death metal bad boys Part Chimp and rowdy, guitarless garage rock foursome The Apes. Although largely bereft of vocals, when present, they are eerily reminiscent of Bono-bo from U2.

    He then launches into a medley of songs by the rock visionary Warren Zevon – namely Porcelain Monkey, Leave My Monkey Alone, Monkey Wash, Donkey Rinse, Gorilla, You’re a Desperado and the snappily-titled Monkey (which did not, surprisingly, appear on his 1992 live album, The Monkey and the Plywood Violin).

    What can I say? Monkeys made Warren an Excitable Boy!

    Chango’s performance is mesmerising, but would be even better if he was joined by a band primate on a marmo-set of drums!

    By the way, what do you call a 1000kg brass monkey with bananas in his ears? Anything you like, he can’t hear you!

  • El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, Oaxaca

    El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, Oaxaca de Juárex, México

    Sizzling, popping, beckoning. Cecina grilling over hot coals awakens something primitive and passionate within even the hardest heart. The smoky aroma, simultaneously sweet and sultry, fills the manic market and tantalises with promises of clandestine desires realised.

    A swarthy man, his moustache dripping with perspiration, roughly tosses the fragrant meat upon a plastic plate and then delicately drowns it in mole, the legendary, intoxicating local sauce. Head spinning, one finds a seat between a pair of satin-wrapped abuelas, takes a first uncertain bite of the cuisine, and allows the complex flavours to become all-encompassing.

    Laughing, shouting, singing, slurping. The cacophony of sounds sprinkles like spice across the dusty floor. Mescal is suppered. Friendships are forged. Mole is allowed to cascade down chin. One rises, reborn by the gastronomical and sonic feast, before plunging headlong into the street to gape in wonder at the rich tapestry of Méxican life.

    This is Oaxaca de Juárez, the land of Seven Moles, and a melting pot of creativity and passion.

    Boasting ocre-hued artworks, this whimsical township is the broiling crucible of Latin culture. History rests upon on every cobblestone corner. Street performers dance amongst the traffic. Mask-clad luchadors fly through the night sky. A seemingly-endless procession of weddings – complete with garishly-painted mojiganga puppets – march down the city’s twisting alleyways.

    Resting at the foothills of the Sierra Madre mountain range and embellished with a heady mixture of ancient Zapotecan ruins and sublime colonial architecture, Oaxaca has long been the ultimate destination for dreamers, drinkers, and digital nomads alike.

    And now you can add Biggies to that list! For Oaxaca is home to a trio of intricately-carved animal heads, El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, more alluring than the rest of the sights and sounds combined.

    And they can all be found atop the legendary – nay, mythical – gift shop known simply as Huizache.

    Alebrijie, alakazam!

    Turning a corner in Oaxaca’s raucous downtown precinct, one is overcome as El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije burst into view in all their festively-decorated glory. Astonishing. Altruistic. Mesmerising. They are, of course, oversized representations of alebrijies, México’s beloved multi-coloured statues of mythical beasts, examples of which are found in abundance within Huizache’s confines.

    The three heads, fastidiously carved over a period of many months, symbolise the natural wonders of Oaxaca. The first Jaguare has been painted a blazing gold like the fiery sun. The second, the shimmering emerald of the cascading rainforests. The third, a deep azure like the cloudless skies.

    The bosom of the store proves to be no less enchanting. In a world of disposable nik-naks, Huizache offers something to cherish. The selection is overwhelming, the quality sublime. As the warm desert breeze marinates the store in the melancholy aroma of acacias, one struggles to reach a decision on which statue to take home. A crab, perhaps? Or maybe a shark?

    Whatever you choose, the store with the big cat heads out the front is the perfect place to jag a bargain – teehee!

    A stranger, satin of hair and porcelain of skin, brushes skin lithely against skin whilst reaching for the same painted iguana, and one briefly contemplates entering terrain hitherto unexplored. One turns, palms clammy, to be met by the beguiling smirk of knockabout Aussie larrikin – and longtime Land of the Bigs devotee – Vince Sorrenti.

    Dapper as ever in his tailored suit, Vince insists on posing for a photo with El Trio de Jaguares Alebrije, before launching into a soliloquy of outrageous puns.

    “I just bought some food from a Méxican restaurant, but didn’t have time to eat it there,” Vince enthuses, his impeccable timing drawing in a handful of curious locals. “So I ordered it taco!”

    One gazes from Vince, to el Jaguares, back to Vince, and the world seems just a little brighter.

  • Majestuoso Tecolote, Ciudad de Guatemala

    El Majuesto Tecolote, Ciudad de Guatemala, Guatemala

    Looking to cross a majestic Big off your list and grab a competitively-priced home loan for your Guatemalan chalet at the same time? Then head to any branch of Banco Industrial, where you might find El Majestuoso Tecolote, a festively-decorated owl of epic proportions, right next to the ATM.

    I’m talon you, it’ll be worth the trip!

    Twenty-two of these enormous creatures were created by sculptor Sebastián Barrientos and art critic Christian Cojulún as part of the 2016 TecoArte exhibition, with each decorated by a celebrated local artist. They were funded by the generous bankers and captured the hearts of all Guatemalans – a wing-wing situation for all involved!

    This particular species of Giant Tecolote, found perched in the trendy neighbourhood of Zona 14, was embellished by the enigmatic, offbeat, and always-controversial Lauro Salas – quite a feather in his cap.

    The tecolote – the indigenous name for the nocturnal birds of Central America – represents luck, prosperity and abundance in Guatemalan culture. The locals even store their heard-earned money in ceramic owl banks rather than piggy banks. Sadly, there were no Big Coins to be found inside the Big Bird – cheepskates!

    Irritable Owl Syndrome

    Guatemala City is a zesty metropolis of three million that is, unfortunately, often overlooked in favour of trendier tourists spots like Antigua. For dedicated Big-thusiasts, though, it proves to be one of the world’s great destinations.

    El Majestuoso Tecolote is not owl by himself, with El Quetzal, Priscilla la Silla, Monumento a la Paz, El Diente Gigante and many other Bigs nearby. Ebony y Ivory, a set of brash hummingbirds, are just an hour’s drive south – or less if you can fly! – so it’s certainly no birden to visit Ciudad de Guatemala.

    Hoping to take a happy snap with all the Tecolotes? Then you may spend more time in the city than expected. Unlike Chinute Chinute the Big Owl, who has guarded Darwin’s Supreme Court for many years, the Giant Tecolotes are migratory birds, fluttering between Banco Industrial’s hundreds of branches nationwide.

    Each spends a few months standing proudly in front of a bank, attracting parliaments of budget-conscious admirers, before being loaded onto a truck and whisked, as if by magic, off to another corner of this mystical land.

    The only way to find them all is to glide, heart aflutter, into each and every Banco Industrial location in the country. The owls are endangered, with less and less to be found each year, so it’s nest to look for them as soon as possible. Don’t scowl – go see an owl!

    Beware of searching for Tecolotes in the city’s more dangerous areas, however. You’d hate to be the victim of a drive-by hooting!

  • Ebony y Ivory, Los Pocitos, Guatemala

    Ebony y Ivory, Los Pocitos, Guatemala

    Guatemala is home to a vast array of birdlife, from quetzals to macaws to toucans, earning it a reputation as a feather fancier’s favourite place in Central America.

    For lovers of hummingbirds – known as colibri in the local dialect – Guatamala is without peer. On warm spring afternoons, the air becomes heavy with sound of their hovering. There are 38 varieties of the flamboyant avians, which lay claim to being the world’s smallest.

    But there’s one variety of hummingbird that certainly wouldn’t fit in your hand, and they can only be found in the remote jungle village of Los Pocitos. Twitchers flock to this rustic scrap of concrete, which lays in the shadow of the simmering Volcán Pacaya, to marvel at Ebony y Ivory, Los Colibríes Gigantes.

    Trust me, you won’t need a pair of binoculars to spot these beaky behemoths!

    Frozen in the glory of eternal flight, Ebony y Ivory warmly welcome visitors to the sprawling Finca el Amate ecotourism resort. Chiseled from concrete and loving painted in exotic hues, their beautiful plumage is the personification of Guatemala’s sumptuous natural delights.

    These lusciously curvy critters serve as a commentary on Guatemala’s ethnic diversity, and are a battle cry for racial harmony. If these two birds – one as white as the driven snow, the other as black as the gnarled lava fields that surround the town – can live together in perfect harmony, oh Lord why can’t we?

    Humming the bassline

    As they’re located outside Finca el Amate’s front gate, one need not pay to enter in order to enjoy Ebony y Ivory, but it’s highly recommended to do so. Inside you’ll find mind-boggling Bigs such as the brutally masculine Icus Kanan and the whimsical, oft-misunderstood El Anciano del Bosque. Guat a way to spend an afternoon!

    There are several more humongous hummingbirds scattered around the finca’s verdant parkland, and it’s a joy to wander around, heart aflutter, searching for them. The spiritual home of the Bigs in Guatemala, Finca el Amate proves to be an intoxicating experience that’s sure to titillate visitors of all ages and fitness levels.

    Keep your wits about you, however. There is a herd of elegant, yet somewhat bombastic, horses who roam the complex’s leafy car park. Great for taking fabulous photos of as they frolic past the radiant volcano; not so pleasant to step in their droppings whilst wearing thongs. Gordon, get me a sponge!

    I’m a hummingbird, beautiful and free

    It was whilst scraping some particularly robust droppings off my flip-flop that Gordon gestured to the ornately-arranged stone wall surrounding the birds and we sat down together.

    “Bigs,” he sighed wistfully, “seeing Ebony y Ivory, two disparate species of hummingbird, put their differences to one side in the name of love, makes me mourn the loss of my own interracial relationship.”
    “You’re talking about Brandy Norwood?” I asked gently. “Known mononymously, of course, as Brandy?”

    “Yes. The media labelled us GorBran, but it never really caught on.” Gordon’s shoulders slumped under the weight of perceived failure. “I allowed societal pressure and ingrained colonialism to cloud my judgement and destroy what could have been a beautiful relationship built on mutual love and respect. I wonder if…”

    “The last I heard, Brandy was taking a break from dating after her tumultuous relationship with award-winning pop star Sir the Baptist,” I reasoned.
    “And she did take out a restraining order after that eggnog incident,” the little guy responded.
    “TMZ had a field day.” I took Gordon in my muscular arms and we watched the sun set behind the giant hummingbirds, its rays reflecting on their wings as we reflected upon our failed love lives.

    “You’re not the only one to weep for passion unrequited with a satin-skinned celebrity,” I said tenderly. “Not a moment passes that isn’t filled with endless pining for own stalled relationship with -“

    “Hey, Bigs!” Gordon interrupted, a huge grin spreading across his furry face. “Do you think Grace Jones is available?”

  • Canoli the Cocky, Wagga Wagga, NSW

    Canoli the Cocky, Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, Australia

    Holey moley, check out Canoli! Cheeky, colourful and charismatic, this king-sized cockatoo is as irresistible as the ricotta-laced desert he’s named after. With his devil-may-care attitude and trendsetting mohawk, the wooden Big is widely regarded as the mascot of Wagga Wagga – the town so nice they named it twice.

    Canoli is the crowning achievement of Justin McClelland, a gifted yet enigmatic artist who expresses his unique world view through the medium of chainsaw. In a moment of inspiration, Justin transformed an everyday log into this perky parrot during the 2017 Ganmain Show – a miracle the locals still speak of in hushed tones.

    “I learn every time I start a new project,” Justin told a beguiled reporter from Regional Lifestyle Magazine. “I love timber and working in the bush, but it’s always challenging. When I start the chainsaw, things start to flow and I’m in my own little world.”

    Justin, you really are a cut above the rest!

    He’s cockatoo hot to handle!

    Proving to be as generous as he is talented, Justin gifted his beloved Canoli to the people of Wagga, and he’s guarded the entrance to the city’s picturesque zoo ever since. Though smaller than nearby Bigs such as The Giant and The Playable Guitar, this sulphur-crested heartthrob makes up for it with his rugged good looks, along with a hint – just a hint – of the cocksure swagger alluded to in his name.

    Canoli looks right at home amongst the grass trees, cloaked by the ever-present chatter of native birds. A more peaceful, down-to-Earth Big you could never hope to meet. My much-anticipated journey within the bowels of the zoo, however, was not so tranquil. Looking forward to a quiet morning admiring the emus and peacocks, I was instead accosted by a cantankerous duck named Wendell.

    This insufferable oaf, with his incessant quacking and braggadocious attitude, disrupted what promised to be a life-affirming encounter with the donkeys in the petting zoo. I wanted to feed them some hay!

    I’m not usually one to resort to violence but Justin, if you feel like carving another bird with your chainsaw, I’ll look the other way!

  • The Big Rocking Horse, Gumeracha, SA

    The Big Rocking Horse, Gumeracha, South Australia

    To journey into the Land of the Bigs is to see the world through the eyes of a child, with all the wonder and excitement that brings. The massive melons and mega marsupials, scattered haphazardly across Australia like toys on a playmat, harken back to a more innocent age. They make us feel small again.

    Never is this more true than when standing in the shadows of Gumeracha’s Big Rocking Horse.

    Rising 18 metres above the verdant knolls of the Adelaide Hills, this 25-tonne pony is a grandiose tribute to the playful, whimsical and – dare I say it – immature nature of the locals. Upon first seeing the Rocking Horse, who reins supreme from above the treetops, one can’t help but be overwhelmed by his immense size and robust, idiosyncratic construction.

    But the full majesty of this Big can only be appreciated by clambering to the viewing platform atop his handsome head. This epic endeavour costs just $2, and those valiant enough to make the journey shall be rewarded with a certificate. Yes, there’ll only be one long face when you’re atop The Big Rocking Horse, and it shan’t be yours!

    If nothing else can convince you to load up the wagon and gallop over to Adelaide, consider this your invitation. As local singer-songwriter – and lifetime admire of all things Big – Paul Kelly once sang,

    All the Big Horses and all the Big Men
    Would certainly drag me back again
    To Adelaide for some orange marmalade, sitting by The Big Apple in the shade, thanks to The Big Hills Hoist my day’s been made

    Or something like that. Thanks, Paul!

    Between a Rocking Horse and a Hard Place

    With his carefree grin and enchanting eyes, you could be forgiven for thinking this Big has nary a care in the world. Living so close to Scotty the Big Scotsman and The Big Pigeon, why would he? There is, however, a rocky story behind this horse.

    When local businessman Wal Wilkinson opened a toy shop in Gumeracha in 1973, he was not met by the expected scenes of jolly jubilation. Facing an uphill saddle to attract customers, he dug into his toybox and produced a kinda-sorta-large effigy of a giraffe, which he plopped outside the front door.

    When this foaled – oops, I mean failed! – to yield results, he turned to a series of wooden rocking horses, the first three metres tall, the second five. They drew in a few curious onlookers, but one thing had become abundantly clear; if Wal wanted to make it big, he had to go BIG.

    In 1980, Wal enlisted David McIntosh Taylor, a structural engineer of great repute, to build a gee-gee large enough for people to climb. A night-mare task for some, but not for this savant of roadside attractions. Not wanting to rock the boat, David rolled with the request, and the resultant stallion took eight months to build at the respectable cost of $100,000.

    Criminy, you wouldn’t be able to get a Bangladeshi-made hobby-horse for that price these days!

    The brumby-lievably big bronco was officially opened in 1981, and immediately became a colt hero. Wal’s vision was off to the races, and his business was finally financially stable.

    Disaster struck in 1999, however, when the viewing platform was shuttered after a youngster, brimming with youthful exuberance, took a tumble whist navigating the Rocking Horse’s labyrinthine staircase. A tragedy, sure, but is the potential for a few maimed kiddies reason enough to prevent the rest of us from enjoying the view?

    Oh, you think I’m being selfish? Get off your high horse and quit nagging me!

    It’s Only Rockin’ Horse (But I Like It)

    The Big Rocking Horse has been bought and sold more times than a narcoleptic racehorse. The complex was sold to dapper South African chap Anthony Miller for almost a million dollars in 2004, who subsequently passed it on to fellow Saffers Frans and Lyn Gous in 2009. Maybe they thought he looked like a Big Springbok?

    This Aussie icon is now back in Aussie hands, with Mell and Mark Penno taking over in 2023. Their unbridled passion for the horsie means they have big plans to expand the park, which already has a large gift shop, animal park and cafe. Try the lamingtons and thank me later!

    This ex-steed-ingly vast horsie stands as one of the biggest – neigh, the biggest – children’s toy around, and was even recognised by Guinness World Records as the largest rocking horse on the planet. What was an immense source of pride for all South Australians became a state-wide sore spot when, in 2014, The Big Rocking Horse was unceremoniously stripped of the prestigious title, which was handed to a proportionately petite plug in China.

    Some say the Yi Jinping ordered the change as part of his merciless war on the West, others say it was simply because the oriental version is actually able to rock. Either way, our little friends in the People’s Republic don’t have democracy or the ability to go to bed at night without being watched by the government, so we’ll let them have this one!

    If I mysteriously disappear, you know I’ve been dragged off to the Big Laogai – teehee!

    Rock, rock, rockin’ on heaven’s door

    Amidst the island of misfit toys that was my youth, only one person was there for me through the really dark times; Gordon. Whenever my dysfunctional home life became too much, Gordon and I would hide away out of sight, dreaming of all the slot cars and Barbie dolls we so dearly wanted but knew we would never own.

    More than anything, we yearned for a rocking horse. Oh, how easy things would be, sitting astride a wooden pony, swinging back and forth, galloping away from life’s complexities.

    Come Christmas morn each year we would emerge from our bedroom, eyes full of hope, and timidly tiptoe towards the pile of cheerfully-wrapped gifts placed ‘neath the glittering tree.

    And each Christmas morn our little hearts would break as the pile shrank, the other family members laughing and smiling as they tore open their treats. But there would be no holiday cheer for Gordon or I. No Thunderloop Thriller. No Peaches ‘n’ Cream Barbie. Certainly no periwinkle rocking horse with lime green tassels. Just jeers and torment from my uncles and grandparents.

    “Maybe next year,” Gordon would say, a tear in his eye

    But the rocking horse never came and we were dragged, kicking and screaming, into adulthood. Psychiatrists have pointed to those hellacious festive encounters as the catalyst for my litany of personality disorders. I prefer to think that it simply added a few stitches to the ritch tapestry that is Bigs Bardot.

    So it was with hearts aflutter that Gordon and I rolled into Gumeracha in the Bigsmobile and then stepped, blinking, into the crisp country air.

    The Big Rocking Horse was more than we could have imaged; more than we dared hope for. His magnitude beggars belief, his majesty is all-consuming. Gordon, understandably, was reduced to a blubbering mess. We stood, clutching each other as we had all those years ago, and soaked in the majesty of the moment. For one sun-dappled afternoon, we found our lost childhood.

    “Looks like we finally got that rocking horse, buddy,” Gordon finally said, his voice cracking under the weight of the situation.
    “Sometimes,” I trembled, “stories do have happy endings. I love you, Gordon.”
    “I love you too, Bigs.” We walked, hands clasped together, to the top of the enormous horse, and stood there for the longest time in complete silence. Gordon flashed a bittersweet smile and put one furry arm across my shoulder.

    “Come on, dry your eyes and let’s go get something to eat,” he posited. “I know a place in Cudlee Creek that makes the world’s best jalapeño poppers.”
    “Lead the way my brother,” I grinned, taking one last look back at The Big Rocking Horse, “lead the way.”

  • The Giant Koala, Dadswells Bridge, VIC

    Sam the Giant Koala, Dadswells Bridge, Victoria, Australia

    As Victoria burned during the horror 2009 bushfires, the world gasped as one when heartwarming footage emerged of a brave koala guzzling water from a drink bottle. Sam, as her admirers came to know her, climbed out of the flames and into our hearts. The plucky little survivor became the furry face of the tragedy; a chubby-cheeked sliver of hope.

    Sadly, Sam soon passed away from chlamydia (it happens to the best of us), but she was not to be forgotten. The owners of another famous Victorian marsupial – The Giant Koala in Dadswells Bridge – made the stirring decision to rename the statue Sam, in honour of Australia’s favourite bushfire survivor.

    Assigned male at birth, it was a moment of clarity for the 14-storey-tall rural icon. But the story of this beloved arboreal herbivore goes back much further than that. Way back to the the late-1980s, when a couple of visionaries had a dream to erect a gormless koala on a lonely stretch of the Western Highway, halfway between Melbourne and Adelaide, smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

    Grab a bottle of water, load up on gum leaves, and settle in for the mesmerising story of Sam the Giant Koala.

    How much can a koala bear?

    With a population of 69 people (and a few koalas), Dadswells Bridge has never been a hive of activity. So in early-1988, local legends Beryl and Jim Cowling did something drastic to draw visitors to their salubrious Koala Kountry Motor Inn and the adjoining roadhouse.

    Inspired by the success of other icons such as Ploddy the Dinosaur and Scotty the Big Scotsman, they tapped Ben van Zetten – yes, he responsible for the ruggedly handsome Map the Miner – to build them a koala of immense proportions. Sure, they could’ve gone for two-for-one schnitzels on Tuesdays and some of those flappy tube men, but I’m glad they decided to go BIG instead.

    The Giant Koala was constructed on site out of koala-ty materials including bronze and fibreglass, wrapped around an immense steel structure. The head was built separately and attached crane at a later date, with a revolutionary fibreglass paste used to create the koala’s eerily-realistic fur.

    There’s even a viewing platform inside the koala’s beautiful bonce, but it never opened because of the lack of a fire exit. Honestly, the risk of burning to death in a concrete sarcophagus is a small price to pay to be able to peer out of a giant koala’s eyes.

    The plump, maudlin beastie took almost a year to complete, which is much longer than it takes for a real koala to gestate. But they’re born visionless, hairless and fairly useless, so it’s a good thing Ben took the extra time to get things just right.

    The Giant Koala opened to rapturous applause in December of 1988 (what a Christmas present!) and proved so popular that – in a moment none present shall ever forget – the gift shop ran out of koala-shaped key chains. There were even rumours the population of Dadswells Bridge might expand to 70 people.

    Let’s see schnitzel night achieve that sort of success!

    All’s well that Dadswells

    Imagine my surprise when I arrived in Dadswells one balmy summer afternoon to find no cars full of koala-obsessed groupies backed up bumper-to-bumper across the bridge. No riots outside the motel as the ‘no vacancy’ sign went up. Not even a braying mob jostling for position to take a photo with the village’s most famous resident.

    The Giant Koala, to my dismay, was abandoned. Gordon was reduced to a blubbering mess as well, and not without reason. Our journey to rural Victoria served as a pilgrimage for our adopted son Rory, who identifies as a koala and uses Blinky/Bill pronouns. As co-parents, Gordon and I agree that it’s important for Rory to interact with other members of the LGBTQIA+ (lesser bilby, glider, bandicoot, Tasmanian devil, quokka, island kangaroo, antechinus) community as he discovers his true self.

    We’ve also taken Rory to visit the Big Koala Family in Port Macquarie, of course, and shared stories of our dalliances with Phascolarctidaes in Salt Ash and Doonside, New South Wales. But I digress.

    Rory was devastated to discover the gift shop betwixt Sam’s powerful hind claws shuttered, but found solace inside the nearby Koala Tavern, with its small selection of souvenirs. After a hearty steak sandwich and an oh-so-creamy cappuccino, he was ready to open up his heart to us.

    “Dads,” Rory said quietly, choosing Blinky/Bill’s words carefully. “Your commitment to helping me discover my species identity means the world to me, but my burgeoning mammalia dysphoria may dictate that I won’t always want to be a koala. Perhaps I’ll transition into a platypus, or even another genus entirely – like a snake. It’s a little scary, a little thrilling, but it’s my unique story – and I’m alright with that.”

    “Maybe you’ll choose to identify as a handsome, charismatic alien, like your old man?” said Gordon with a small shrug.

    “There’s always a chance, Pops,” our trans-species offspring replied with a sanguine smile. “As long as I have your support and a healthy dose of species-affirming hormone therapy, I can’t go wrong. I don’t know what I am just yet, but I do know who I am. I’m Rory, and I’m loved.”

    “You are loved, Rory,” I wept, ruffling the ragamuffin’s fur as the three of us cuddled in Sam’s shadow. “And you’ll always have a home here in the Land of the Bigs.”

  • Big Dog, Dunkeld, New South Wales

    Big Dog, Dunkeld, New South Wales, Australia

    How much is that Big Doggy in Dunkeld? The one with the ethically-sourced recycled metal tail? He’s free to visit but pawsitively priceless! This labradorable fellow can be hound out the front of the pupular Dunkeld Park Pet Hotel, in the terrier-riffic Bathurst hinterland. Say hello to Big Dog, your new best fur-riend!

    With his rugged, steampunk sensibilities and smooth, canine lines, Big Dog is the handiwork of local artist Jane Tyack. She didn’t base Big Dog on any pet-icular breed, but did make sure he was out of the corgi-nary!

    Big Dog was completed in 2020, at the insistence of hotel owner Brendan McHugh, as an out-of-the-boxer way to promote his business. Brendan, not surprisingly was Rover the moon with the result.

    “When we saw it finished we thought, ‘Oh my god, that is fantastic’,” Brendan yapped to a bewildered reporter. “It’s made from old recycled metal, old tools, a tractor seat, brakes from a car – you name it, they found it.”

    Contrasting sharply with the secluded scenery, Big Dog shines with an austere benevolence that’s as confronting as it is beguiling. And by collie, is he big! At 2.44 metres tall and weighing more than a tonne, Big Dog’s a little larger than the hotel’s other guests. But he’s a good boy, and just wants you to give him a nice, sloppy pooch on his cheek.

    And there’s more than a kennel of truth to that!

    Blue Heeler the World, Make it a Better Place

    Despite being made of rottie-ever was lying about, the realism of this Big defies belief. It’s a testament to Jane’s skill and passion that she was able to capture the rollercoaster of emotions that every dog exhibits in this genre-defining piece.

    “He wanted it anatomically correct, he wanted the paw up,” Jane said of Brendan. “It’s exactly how a dog would sit when it’s got one foot up.”

    “I started to make the head, Shane [Jane’s beloved husband] did a lot of the internal framework,” she added. “Its eyes are a mine ball cut in half and its eyebrows are off old railway tracks. I’m very happy with it, it took a lot of tweaking.”

    Some Biggies have said it’s a pomer-pain-ian in the mutt to find Big Dog, because he’s tucked away off the main road, around ca-nine kilometres west of The Big Gold Panner Man – but the map I’ve included should kelpie you find him. Just pug the coordinates into your GPS and, if you’re beagle-eyed, you’ll be wondering chow-chow you ever missed him.

    And relax, because there’s plenty of space to bark your car nearby. No need to thank me for my assistance, but a small dalmatian to your local animal shelter would be appreciated.

    Dachshund out to see Big Dog today!

    Mutts Ado About Nothing

    Gordon was far from his usual sprightly self as I eased the Bigsmobile into Dunkeld and pulled up beside Big Dog. He took an all-too-brief glance at the statue, then hung his little head.

    I took Gordon’s tiny hand and gave him my warmest smile, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. Gordon felt scared and abandoned, as I was putting him up in the pet hotel whilst I attended the 32nd Annual World Bigs Convention in downtown N’Djamena.

    “Maybe I can come with you, Bigs” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.
    “Gordon,” I soothed, “you know they’ll never let you back into the People’s Republic of Chad.”
    “I know, and I don’t blame them, considering what I did to the Monumento de la Independencia last time I was there,” Gordon said, then looked up at Big Dog. “And anyway, they don’t have a Big Bow-Wow over there.”
    We embraced, and I wiped a single tear from my friend’s chubby little cheek.

    “You’ll love it here,” I cooed. “The staff are exceptional; the amenities spotless, and the kibble wouldn’t be out of place at a Michelin-starred restaurant.”
    “Sounds like you’re talking yourself into staying,” Gordon grinned, handing me an elegant set of dog ears. “My kennel’s big enough for two, you know.”

    I breathed in the crisp country air and admired the fawning landscape. It was a long way to Chad, and there was a comfy bed waiting for me just through the gates…

    “You’re right, Gordon,” I chuckled, placing the ears atop my head. “N’Djamena can wait until next year. And with my propensity for walking on all fours and constant desire for human attention, even the highly trained experts inside will think I was a dog… but I get the top bunk!”

  • Bird in Hand, Jemalong, NSW

    Bird in Hand, Jemalong, New South Wales, Australia

    A bird in hand is worth two in the bush, and Bird in Hand is waaaaaaaaay out in the bush! Handcrafted by sculptor Mike Van Dam, this beautifully-manicured chainlink mitt can be found near Jemalaong, by the side of the endless Lachlan Valley Way. It’s a glovely quiet spot on the edge of the outback, so there’s not a lot of palm trees around.

    Whether you’re finger-male or female, this exquisite statue is the perfect place to stop for a well-earned wrist, or simply paws for a moment of quiet introspection. The juxtaposition of rugged, industrial steel against the gentle brown and green hues of the wilderness makes for a striking visage that is, hands down, one of the most memorable and unique experiences Australia offers – pinkie promise!

    “This sculpture reminds viewers that we need to preserve and protect this important environment,” Mike clapped to a flummoxed reporter, “and its future state, such as native birds and all fauna, are in our hands.”

    The sweet, wattle-scented air cloaking the 6.5 metre, 3.5 tonne hand – which cradles a great white egret – is heavy with the cascading trill of waterbirds. Goannas, clinging to gently-swaying gum trees, peer out upon the vast and ancient land. That should be enough to hold your attention!

    Everybody’s hear about The Bird (in Hand)

    Mike really knuckled-down for this project, which he completed single-handedly. The amount of work that went into it really is mind-thumbing.

    “This piece was made from 1600 meters of 10mm, 316 marine-grade, stainless steel chain, with 38 links per meter and 4 welds per link,” Mike enthused. “This equates to just over 243,000 welds, which took eight months to complete.”

    My apologies if any of those statistics are incorrect – I’m relying on second-hand information here.

    Bird in Hand isn’t the fist Big between Forbes and Condobolin. Varanus and Heart of Country are also elbowing in on the action along the mesmerising Sculpture Down the Lachlan trail. When complete, 25 oversized artworks will be dotted along the remote stretch of road. It can be hard to come to grips with how exciting this is!

    There’s also a global arms race going on, with Big Hands in England, Ireland, Uruguay and Guatemala. All together now, ‘We’ve got a whole world of Big Hands!’

    Won’t someone lend me a helping (Bird in) Hand

    As the setting sun transformed the steel girders that make up Bird in Hand into an ethereal silhouette, Gordon and I realised that we’d lost hours exploring the sculpture’s intricacies.

    Rather than set off into the desert in the inky twilight, we settled in for a night in the bush, amidst a cacophony of bird calls, insect squeaks, and marsupial meanderings. Out here, in the ancient and eternal soul of the country, everything is alive. Even the statue seemed to bend and sway and worship the sky as the light moved over it.

    With a distinct lack of Michelin-starred restaurants in Jemalong, Gordon and I feasted on a smorgasbord of witchetty grubs and dung beetles as the stars and planets and comets rolled out above us. Ah, you’ve gotta love finger food!

  • Paco el Sharko, Zicatela, México

    Paco el Sharko, Zicatela, oaxaca, México

    Just when you thought it was safe to go back for another mango and jalapeño margarita, along swims a Big who’ll leave your JAWS hanging wide open in horror. Please put your pectoral fins together to welcome Paco el Sharko – and this time, it’s personal!

    Serving as an ostentatious anomaly betwixt the swaying palms and braying hawkers of Puerto Escondido’s beachside entertainment precinct, Paco resonates with an ethereal bombasticity that captivates and repulses in equal measure.

    Brash, garish and wonderfully vulgar, this must-sea shark’s head is the centrepiece of a gaudy art installation by Zicatela’s world-famous beach. You’ll find pink flamingos, a marlin, and even a strapping young man in a boat. There’s even a wonderfully kitschy concrete wave a few minutes walk away that’s totally tubular, dude!

    The massive marine mouth is framed, not drowned out, by these other attractions. He’s tacky in all the right ways – and that’s the tooth!

    As the entryway to the Dorada Bar ‘n’ Gill, Paco seduces unsuspecting visitors with his bad boy mystique and promise of cheap food and drinks. The menu is sure to mako you smile, and won’t take a bite out of your budget. All of this is lovingly served by the best-looking busboys in town (hola, Ramón!).

    Trust me, after an evening spent swilling two-for-one cocktails you’ll be wishing you were only eaten by a shark!

    Even if we’re just dancing in the Shark

    Paco looks wonderful during the day, but is truly some-fin to behold under the cover of sharkness. The resturant really comes to life after the sun goes down, and a full moon over an illuminated fish’s head is enough to flake all your dreams come true.

    After a big day of signing autographs for my legion of loco latin limpiezas (that means admirers, for you gringos!) I retired to the balcony with a table for one and drinks for two. It’s a hard life, travelling the world in search of the Bigs!

    I’m not one to drop names but, as I languidly nibbled on a pollo and chorizo tlayunda I did send a text message to my good friend – and self-confessed Biggie – Amy Shark. The ARIA-award-winning popstar was surprised when I told her I’d met one of her family members in México and then delighted when, after waiting an appropriate length of time to set up the joke, I sent her a photo of Paco. That’s the sort of thing you can do when you rub shoulders with beloved celebrities – but I’m not one to brag.

    Oh, how I laughed as I ladelled spoonfuls of deliciously rich molcajete into my gaping maw which, by the end of the night, was hanging as wide open as Paco’s.

    Eek, after all that food I think I’m gonna need a bigger pair of trousers!

  • SLOTH, Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica

    SLOTH, Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica

    Slothfulness, the Bible tells us, casts one into a deep sleep, and an idle person will suffer hunger (Proverbs 19:15). Well, it might be time to update the Good Book, because this sizeable sloth guides the way to one of the finest eating establishments in Costa Rica.

    Known by the mononym of SLOTH to his galleon of admirers, this happy fellow forms the entrance to the quirky, Insta-friendly, yet wholesomely down-to-Earth Igloo Beach Lodge, and the adjoining Casa Planta cafe. Let me assure you, there’s nothing slothful about the service, or the resident chef’s fanatical attention to detail.

    With his cheeky grin and obtuse thatched wooden façade, SLOTH offers a friendly – if somewhat imposing – welcome to this culinary hotspot. His deep, caramel eyes will leave you slothed for words!

    Just minutes from the lush rainforest and howling monkeys of Manuel Antonio National Park, Casa Planta is renowned for its hearty dishes and lackadaisical ambiance. The crystal clear water of Playa Espadilla is only metres away, and Puerto Viejo – home of La Iguana Grande – a mere 11 hours by chicken bus.

    Casa Planta offers a moreish slice of pura vida. There’s no better way to spend a lazy Tuesday morning than sipping on an apple daiquiri and nibbling a Caribbean queen ceviche whilst watching Emiliano the pool boy go to work in the shadows of SLOTH’s smiling face.

    Sure, you might have to sell a kidney – or own the world’s most successful Big Things website! – to afford an octopus and mango poke bowl, but that’s par for the course in this part of the world these days. Costa Rica? More like Costa Heapsa!

  • Aslan the Lion, Belfast, Northern Ireland

    Aslan the Great Lion, Belfast, Northern Ireland

    Once there was a super cute fellow with a slight bad boy edge whose name was Bigs Bardot. This story is about something that happened to him when he was sent away from Australia – and its wonderful collection of Big Things! – due to his family refusing to accept that he’d rather take selfies with The Big Bandicoot than slave away at an office job, get married and have a bunch of children like his brother Damien did.

    Not everyone’s like Damien, Mum! And he and Renee aren’t that happy together anyway!

    Bigs was sent to the brutally industrial, yet oddly charismatic, city of Belfast, in the heart of Northern Ireland. Far less than ten miles from the monument to Finn McCool and two miles from The Big Fish he discovered the whimsical C.S. Lewis Square.

    It was home to an astonishing assortment of elaborately-crafted statues dedicated to the many oddball characters from the novel The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. (Their names were Maugrim, The White Witch and Mr and Mrs Beaver, but they do not come into this story much).

    The mane attraction was Aslan, a very large lion with shaggy, bronze hair which grew over most of his face as well as on his head, and Bigs liked him even before he burst forth from the the grim bowels of Belfast and into the fairy tale expanse of the lion’s den.

    Livin’ Nextdoor to Aslan

    The first thing Bigs saw upon entering the park was a homeless man on the side of the open space. He was a wonderful homeless man, especially with the cantaloupine sun shining on the sardine cans he was using as shoes. While he was looking at him, Bigs heard the sound of single mothers squawking to his right. Turning in that direction, Bigs saw what he came to see.

    Aslan stood proudly above a crowd of chavs. Bigs barely knew what to do or say when he saw him. People who have not been in Belfast sometimes think that a thing cannot be good and terrible at the same time.

    If Bigs ever thought so, he was cured of it now. When he tried to look at Aslan’s face, he just caught a glimpse of the expert craftmanship apparent in his solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then he found he couldn’t look at him.

    Bigs stepped up to the lion and said:

    “I have come – Aslan.”

    “Welcome, Bigs, son of, umm…,” said Aslan. “Well, your lack of a reliable father figure is hardly important now.”

    “Tell that to my therapist!” replied Bigs.

    Aslan chuckled, and his voice was deep and rich and seemed to calm Bigs. He felt very glad now, and not at all awkward.

    “Where is the small alien, Gordon, who you’re always having adventures with?” asked Aslan.

    “His visa was denied,” said Bigs. “There was some… unpleasantness, at the airport.”

    Aslan said nothing either to excuse Gordon or to blame him. He simply stood looking at Bigs with his unchanging eyes. And it seemed to both of them that there was nothing more to say.

    “Please, Aslan,” said Bigs, “can I take a delightful photo with you for my award-winning website, Land of the Bigs?”

    “All will be done,” said Aslan, “but you have forgotten to do up your fly.”

    It was true. Bigs thought it was a bit rich for Aslan, who didn’t even wear pants, to pass judgement on his fashion choices, but let it slide. The last thing he wanted was to get on the wrong side of a magical space cat.

    Belfast and Furious

    The large lion had been birthed by the uncompromising brilliance of Irish artist Maurice Harron. Aslan was created as the centrepiece of an expansive, £2.5 million redevelopment in East Belfast that quickly become a favourite place for the young and young-at-heart.

    “I’m delighted to step ‘through the wardrobe’ and take on the challenge of recreating the magic of Narnia, right on C.S. Lewis’ own doorstep,” Maurice told a clearly perplexed reporter from the Irishowen News. “These artworks will be central to the civic square and provide a fitting tribute to one of Belfast’s most famous sons.

    “I want to recreate the emotions within Lewis’ world, so that – like Lucy, Edmund, Peter and Susan – you never quite know what’s around the corner.”

    Aslan, standing three metres from superbly-rendered claw to handsome head, offers a slice of whimsy to an, at times, harsh city. Perched atop a small hill, he takes pride of place above the other monuments and commands the respect of all who pass. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lion to you!

    The Lion, the Bigs and the Wardrobe

    As soon as he had said good night to Aslan and sequestered himself away from East Belfast in favour of his salubrious five-star accommodation in the heart of the city, Bigs sat alone, peering earnestly out upon the blinking lights, sipping languidly at a peach daiquiri. He thought about The Giant Fisherman, and Luke Kelly, and all the bizarre creatures he’d met in a seaside village in Wales. Bigs was tired, but he was content in a way he never could have imagined before.

    And that is the very end of Bigs Bardot’s adventures with Aslan. But if Abdul, the checkout operator at the Nando’s down the road from the square was right – and he usually was – it was only the beginning of his adventures through the Land of the Bigs.

    What personal demons did Bigs face, what confronting and, at times, deeply unpleasant realisations did he come to? Well, that’s Narnia business!

  • The Big Beaver, Wilberforce, NSW

    The Big Beaver, Wilberforce, New South Wales

    Every chap in Western Sydney has seen this Big Beaver! She’s hairy, wet and open for inspection every day of the week. Best of all, you won’t have to waste money on flowers and a KFC meal before you’re allowed to see this Beaver.

    Sure, the Big Beaver has seen better days and been around the block a few times, but that just gives her character. And most fellows can’t resist a Big Beaver no matter how battered she looks. Any mole’s a goal, as they say.

    It’s not only the menfolk who like to gently caress The Big Beaver, either. Women are also welcome to grope this Beaver. There’s even rumours that Hollywood actress Beaverly D’Angelo popped in for a visit a few years back.

    Sadly, it’s common for cretins to make putrid jokes at the Beaver’s expense but, as you can see, I don’t find anything fanny about such behaviour. Thankfully Raelene, Beaver’s ever-beguiling owner, had some sensible, mature comments to make when I visited her.

    “Everyone’s loves my Big Beaver,” Rae chuckled when I arrived, giving me a cheeky wink.

    “Oh Rae, why did you have to lower the tone?” I lamented, whilst writing down her joke to shamelessly steal later.

    Leave it to Beaver

    The Big Beaver can be found in all her buck-toothed glory out the front of Wilberforce’s otter-ly charming Butterfly Farm (which, delightfully, also features some moths). It’s a peaceful, leafy place for a Big, with plenty of picnic tables overlooking the Hawkesbury River. There are even campsites for those who, unlike myself, don’t require five star accommodation with an all-inclusive buffet breakfast.

    The Beaver was created a few decades ago to star in a maple syrup commercial. She was made from a styrofoam mould, and was due to be disposed of once the cameras stopped rolling. That’s when Rae stepped in. She snapped up the Beaver, slapped on some weather-resistant paint, and placed her proudly on display. The result was sweeter than the syrup that bore her.

    Tragically, the Beaver’s makeshift construction has meant that she’s aged poorly and is currently falling apart. When I visited she was missing an ear and, outrageously, one of her gorgeous footsies had fallen off.

    The Big Beaver has a gaping hole, which is often occupied by one or more peckers. Honestly guys, quit it – I just mean that Rae’s Big Beaver sports a cavity in the side of her head that’s become home to a family of kookaburras. If you find anything rude about that, you might want to seek the assistance of a psychiatrist.

    Busy as a Beaver

    Disaster struck Wilberforce in early 2021, when the river to breached its banks and flooded the area. Homes were destroyed, hearts were broken. The happy little lives that the locals had cherished were washed away in a rain-soaked instant. But the worst was yet to come.

    The Big Beaver, a beacon of hope in these most tumultuous of times, was to be the storm’s greatest victim. The Butterfly Farm was swallowed by the gurgling brine. The Beaver, laden with styrofoam, was torn from her base and carried away by the raging waters.

    It was feared this Western Sydney icon would be lost forever. Sure, beavers are usually right at home in the water, but most of them aren’t three metres tall and just as cute as a button.

    And then a miracle happened.

    “We tried our hardest to save the Beaver, but the water was too rough for us,” Rae fretted. “But then the townsfolk came together to rescue her. We put her in a safe position until the water subsided. Most of our facilities were wiped out, but at least we saved the Beaver.”

    Yes, with the assistance of several sweaty gentlemen, and with silent prayers of, “Oh God! Oh God!” the moist adventures of the Big Beaver came to a gushing and mutually-satisfying climax. I’m just glad that the boys were able to pull off the impossible so this story received a happy ending – and all without a single double entendre!

    “What can I say,” Raelene smirked. “Everyone loved getting their hands on my wet Beaver!”

    Oh, Rae!

  • The Big Bandicoot, Hamilton, VIC

    The Big Bandicoot, Hamilton, Victoria, Australia

    The Big Bandicoot? More like The Big Bandi-CUTE! This hyperactive heartbreaker is the beloved mascot of the Bandicoot Motor Inn, just minutes from the vibrant centre of Hamilton. Caught forever in mid-stride, the mega-sized marsupial is poised to bound his way into your heart.

    Whimsical, cheeky and deliciously kitsch, the Bandicoot really pops against the backdrop of this quintessentially mid-60s guesthouse. The owners pride themselves on offering the cheapest rooms in Hamilton, but the sprawling complex proves to be comfortable, fun and the best value in town.

    After all, does the Ritz-Carlton down the road have a Big Thing to admire whilst you’re waiting to check in?

    For those unfamiliar with the most widespread of Australia’s endemic peramelemorphias, a bandicoot is basically an adorable rat with a pointy nose and a giant set of hind legs that are just made for jumping. The males also possess the most bizarre appendages in the animal kingdom – but, mercifully, that hasn’t been reproduced here.

    Despite their chubby little cheeks and inquisitive personalities, bandicoots are anything but the rockstars of the Australian wildlife community. Budding Bigthusiasts are far more likely to find massive kangaroos, koalas and Tassie Devils as they traipse around this wide, brown landicoot. Thankfully the good people of the Southern Grampians have bandied together to rectify that situation!

    Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Bandicoot

    It wasn’t love at first sight between my alien companion Gordon and The Big Bandicoot, however. Seeing someone just as charming and furry as himself, Gordon threw a tantrum, returned the car and refused to come back out.

    “He’s not that big anyway,” the big baby sulked. “I’d argue that he’s not even a Big Thing at all.”
    “He’s several thousand times the mass of a regular bandicoot, Gordon,” I countered.
    “That’s still not very big.”
    “Well, the parmigianas at the motel’s adjoining restaurant are very big indeed.” I handed my friend a laminated menu. In time, he accepted it. “But I suppose you’re not hungry anyway.”

    The little alien peered out the window, surveying the Big Bandicoot, who shone handsomely in the dying twilight. Gordon nodded his head and gave me a small smile. “I guess I can put my preconceptions to the side in the name of breaded chicken and an accompanying salad.”

    Taking Gordon by the hand, we took our places in the well-appointed restaurant. I opted for the vegetable lasagne whilst Gordon, ever the picky eater, went for the Chef’s Special Parma, topped with hot salami, bacon, ham and pineapple.

    “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier,” Gordon said whilst mopping up some melted cheese with an extra-thick steakhouse-style chip. “My ex-wife’s been seeing a bilby, and I allowed that to not only prejudice my feelings towards The Big Bandicoot, but to impact on your enjoyment of the occasion.”

    In the early hours of the morning, as the crescent moon dipped below the eucalypts, I peeked out the window of our air conditioned twin suite to see Gordon warmly embracing The Big Bandicoot, and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

    The locals say that a decadent smear of parmigiana sauce remains on him to this day.

  • Bertha the Bunyip, Murray Bridge, SA

    Bertha the Bunyip, Murray Bridge, South Australia

    Those who wade unwarily into the windswept waters beneath Murray Bridge risk being ravaged by something truly frightening. Frighteningly fantastic, that is, because Bertha the Bunyip is both an ancient indigenous spirit guardian who devours those foolish enough to take a dip in the Murray River, and a proud, brave trans woman.

    Meanwhile, I have a doozie of a time keeping up with two Netflix shows at the same time – teehee!

    Assigned male at birth, this mesmerising monster was known as Bert when she first appeared in 1972. She was lovingly created by local chap Dennis Newell as the major attraction for the Weerama Festival, which was held on the Australia Day long weekend each year. Lamingtons, party pies and a rendezvous with slimy water imp, does it get any better?

    With $2250 from the council and $500 from the local Jaycees club, Dennis spent months constructing the adorable abomination in his shed. Designed to emerge from a pool of water and roar ferociously at anyone silly enough to peek inside his cage, Bert was certainly unique amongst the Bigs.

    “Everyone thought he was a little bit crazy,” Dennis’ wife Marlene told a captivated reporter. “Dennis recalls much controversy emanating, with heaps of media comment and ratepayer meetings.”

    Despite his ghoulish appearance, Bert was an immediate hit. Curious onlookers lined up to drop 20c into Bert’s bucket to watch him squeal. Dozens – perhaps hundreds – fainted during the outrageous encounter, but thousands of dollars were raised for the community.

    So successful was the attraction that Dennis made a tidy profit selling Bert t-shirts, coffee mugs and school lunchboxes, and even hatched grandiose plans for a bunyip-themed board game. Bert-a-mania was gripping the nation but, deep inside, the star of the show was living a bunyip-sized lie.

    Bert or Bertha?

    The good people of Murray Bridge needed to adjust to living alongside a hideously deformed creature of superhuman size and strength, but Bert was dealing with something even more ghastly – gender dysphoria.

    On December 5, 1981, the world was shocked, yet delighted, when Bert introduced her lovechild, Graham. The smaller, yet equally gruesome bunyip caused a new wave of Bigthusiasts to flood into this vibrant rural community.

    But a bombshell would soon be dropped upon an unsuspecting public. Bert, famous for brash masculinity and tough guy charm, now identified as a woman. And so she revealed her true self, Bertha, a curvaceous and feminine swamp monster who delighted and frightened in equal measure.

    Her bravery inspired many in Murray Bridge to bare their own sexualities, with several burly tradies and members of the local Aussie Rules team also coming out as trans. It was an age of enlightenment in the region, and it was all thanks to an animatronic swamp creature.

    Being an icon of pride did not, however, vaccinate Bertha from the twin terrors of bigotry and stupidity. In 2000 a group of transphobic alt-right hatemongers broke into her cage and, in an act of domestic terrorism, brutally bashed Bertha and kidnapped poor Graham. The beautiful rainbow child, a symbol of hope to all gender-diverse Australians, was never seen again.

    Scarred beyond recognition, Bertha required a complete reconstruction. She emerged some time later bigger and more beautiful than ever, with her trademark ruby lips and provocative expression luring in lovers from all walks of life.

    The members of the anti-trans death squad were, fittingly, dragged to the icy depths of the Murray River, their bodies never recovered. Which brings us to the violent, bloody, vicious legend of the Mulyawonk.

    Sun’s out, the Bun’s out!

    To truly appreciate Bertha’s legacy as the grand poobah of Murray Bridge’s flourishing LGBTQIA+ scene, we must go back thousands of years, to the Dreamtime. Pomberuk, as the area was known to the local Ngarrindjeri people, was a popular meeting place for hunting and fishing and all those those icky things that a lady of leisure such as myself wouldn’t dream of doing.

    Sadly, this little slice of paradise was destroyed by some Selfish Simon who came along and took all the fish from the river, leaving none for the others. I feel their pain – the same thing happened at West Gosford Sizzler back in my youth, when a very young Guy Sebastian would scoff all the salmon fajitas, leaving crumbs for the rest of us.

    Thankfully the elders, tired of this cretin’s shenanigans, transformed this Greedy Gus into a mulyawonk – a sort of half-fish, half-man detestation. Geez, imagine the impact on the Australian music scene if the security guards at Sizzler had been able to do that to Guy Sebastian!

    Whilst I am Australia’s most beloved cultural historian, I’ll hand it over to Rita and Michael Lindsay to tell the rest of this horrendous morality tale, through the eternal words of The Mulyawonk Song.

    We know the Mulyawonk, lives in the caves and rivers
    He watches and he waits for the ones that he can take
    Remember the ancient ways of the river and waterways
    Our elders sang

    Take only what you need, for you and your family
    Don't go swimming alone, or fishing on your own
    Remember the ancient ways of the river and waterways
    Our elders sang

    Mulyawonk is still there, you should look everywhere
    Mulyawonk makes the sound, in deep water he is found
    Remember the ancient ways of the river and waterways
    Our elders sang

    Murray’s Darling

    A visit to this verdant township is always a delight, so when I was summoned by Gerald Wang, president of the Murray Bridge Commerce and Culture Advancement Society and proud trans man, I wasted no time heading there. Huddled outside a well-regarded coffee shop for a skinny cap and a vanilla slice, Gerald clasped my hands within his and leant in close.

    “Bigs, mate, the town needs your help,” he spluttered, a thin film of froth quivering on his top lip.

    “Plenty of towns need my help, Gerald,” I responded, blowing the froth off my beverage. “Be specific.”

    “It’s Bertha, mate, she’s stopped working,” the non-binary businessperson blabbered. “Since being damaged in the floods she just lays there in the water! Our booming tourism industry’s ground to a halt. Without the threat of being eaten by a robotic goblin, fish thieves are running rampant. And with the region’s only source of entertainment busted, our teenagers are being lured away by the bright lights of Adelaide. We’re gonna lose the town, Bigs!”

    “Not on my watch, Gerald,” I reassured him, before guzzling the remains of my scalding hot drink and flouncing off to put on my scariest pink unicorn bonnet. Taking up residence in front of Bertha’s cage, I snarled and slashed at anyone imprudent enough to wander near. Not surprisingly, entranced sightseers were soon lined up all the way to Tailem Bend.

    Unfortunately I was a little too scary, causing several pensioners to have heart attacks after chasing them through the streets of Murray Bridge.

    “No big deal,” shrugged Gerald. “We’ll just toss their bodies into the river and say the mulyawonk did it!”

  • Alice in Wonderland, Llandudno, Wales

    The Alice in Wonderland Trail, Llandudno, Wales

    The inimitable Bigs Bardot was beginning to get very tired of hanging around the quaint Welsh seaside village of Llandudno, and of having nothing to do. Once or twice he had clambered to the peak of The Great Orme, and he had availed himself of the reasonably-priced goods at the local Aldi, but neither activity truly set his heart aflutter.

    “What is the use of a quaint Welsh seaside village,” thought Bigs, “without an enormous Big Thing to admire?”

    So he was considering in his own mind (as well as he could, for the gloomy weather made him feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of trundling along to the Wetherspoon for a chicken vindaloo would be worth the trouble of getting up, when suddenly an enormous carved wooden rabbit bounded happily in front of him.

    There was something so very remarkable about that; although Bigs didn’t think it so very much out of the way because Llandudno and its quirky inhabitants had, after all, served as inspiration for the literary classic, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

    And the absolutely tragic movies featuring Johnny Depp, but the less said about those abominations, the better.

    Bigs leant in closer to hear the Big Rabbit say to himself, “Oh dear! Oh dear! You shall be late… to visit all the other beautiful Bigs living in Llandudno!” Bigs was cautious, of course, as he fell down the twisting rabbit hole that is Welsh roadside attractions.

    But when he encountered a Cheshire Cat of immense proportions, and then a Mad Hatter of monumental measurements, then a Queen of Hearts of hearty height, Bigs became aroused, for it flashed across his mind that he had never before seen so many Big Things in a single quaint Welsh seaside village.

    Soon he was scurrying around as quickly as his little Australian legs would carry him, searching for magnificent Mock Turtles and delightfully rotund identical twins, never once considering how in the world he was to get out again.

    And considering Llandudno’s meager public transportation system, that was probably a good thing.

    Alice, Alice, where the fudge is Alice?

    To visit Llandudno is to step into the yellowing pages of a fairy tale. An enchanting Victorian-era resort town on the rugged northern coast of Wales, it really is a place untouched by time, with cobblestone streets, ancient pubs warmed by roaring fires, and a remarkable pier over the Irish Sea.

    Like Alice in the story this British pearl inspired, it’s easy to get lost in the sprawling laneways, encountering bonkers characters on every corner. The Jabberwocky, despite his notoriously cranky disposition, seems positively erudite compared to an English soccer hooligan guzzling his 19th cup of mead!

    The Alice in Wonderland Trail is easy to follow and makes for a pleasant, if emotionally-confronting, stroll. It just gets curiouser and curiouser; beginning in the town square, before meandering past the most scenic spots Llandudno has to offer.

    The Mad Hatter, lunacy dripping down his angled face, sits and stares out at the emerald brine. The Queen of Hearts stands, screeching, in the midst of the hamlet’s notorious red light district, a sight sure to terrify any silly drunk foolish enough to pass her after a night of depravity.

    The statue of Alice is both a wry commentary on the modern ideals of beauty and innocence, and a scathing exposition of the eroding values of the United Kingdom. Her angelic features have been corrupted by modern society, delivering a twisted visage that shall haunt your dreams.

    When I used to read fairy-tales, and imagine myself as a young girl with flowing blonder hair, trapped in a bizarre foreign land, I fancied that kind of thing never happened… and now here I was in the middle of one!

    We’re all mad here… mad for Bigs!

    So Bigs sat on, with deep, sparkling, perfectly-proportioned azure eyes closed, and half-believed himself in the magical Land of the Bigs, with talking bunnies and pussycats, though he knew he had but to open them again, and all would change to the dull reality of a Llandudno winter. The numerous clothes-optional beaches would be sparsely populated and flattering to nobody, and most of the cabaret clubs would remain closed for several months.

    The rattling teapots would change to tinkling of pensioners’ mobility scooters, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the handsome, if enigmatic and eminently unattainable apprentice electrician staying in the hotel room next door (call me, Callum!).

    The madcap laughs of the Hatter, the lunatic growls of the Cat, and all thy other queer (and please note, this term has been used in the most respectful, inclusive nature possible) noises, would change (he knew) to the confused clamour of single mothers drinking bottles of cider by the seaside – while the lowing of some local chavs in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle‘s heavy sobs.

    Lastly, Bigs pictured to himself how this same tiny town, with its vast array of outrageously proportioned roadside attractions, could become a beacon of hope for the rest of the world. He dreamed of how he would gather about the little children, and make their eyes bright and eager by showing them this incredible village.

    And how they would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering their time exploring the Alice in Wonderland Trail.

  • The Big Ram, Karoonda, SA

    The Big Ram, Karoonda, South Australia

    Ay Caramba, lovers of Big Things! Is me, El Grande Gonzales, greatest luchador in all México and Latin America’s leading expert on oversized roadside attractions. Hola!

    You may look at mi beautiful smile, mi carefree disposition, and conclude that Gonzales is a happy hombre. But there is sadness deep within mi corazón. Bashing in the brains of mi enemies has been a lot of fun – and certainly profitable! – but it was a desperate attempt to transfer a poofteenth of my internal agony onto someone else.

    Lo siento, Santiego Ortiz, it seems I give you spinal damage for nothing – oopsie daisy! But I become distracted from my tale of woe.

    Muchos años ago, a sheep wander into mi village and eat mi mamá. Then he eat mi papi. Then he eat mi quesadillas, and this is when I get mucho furioso. And you no want to see Gonzales when he is furioso… well, I’ve been told I’m super cute when I’m angry, but I also get a bit stabby. This is why I am banned from Taco Bell.

    Well, that and the incident with the cheese sauce.

    Since this atrocity, Gonzales has wandered the Earth looking for the sheep that eat mi familia. First, I encounter The Big Merino in Goulburn, but he is too large. Then I find The Big Cow in Highfields, which is a bit like a sheep but also kinda different. How should I know, Gonzales am professional fighter, not veterinarian.

    OK, I sometimes work as a veterinarian, but México’s accreditations are notoriously lax. Last week I accidentally neuter Cat Stevens and give an actual cat a guitar and force him to play Moonshadow. Is easy mistake to make, and the cat really nailed it – ¡Ay Caramba!

    On the Ram-page

    But I go off the track like mi tío Miguel when he drink too much tequila and drive his lowrider into cactus. Is very sad – this cactus have one day till retirement!

    I hear word that the sheep who eat mi familia has been seen in South Australia. I take mi tag team parter, El Gordón, and we travel by donkey to Karoonda, deep in the outback. Is a long journey, but there is restaurant serving jalapeño poppers on the way, so all is well.

    Karoonda is nice town with wide streets and pretty women. It reminds me of mi village back in México, with less tuberculosis. But El Gordón and Gonzales are not here to sightsee, we are here to take vengeance on a horrible sheep. This cobarde try to hide from us, but we shall find him even if we have to overturn every table and threaten every granny in – oh, there he is, right in the centre of town! He was actually pretty easy to find, as he is two metres tall.

    He also have huge set of el testículos and – holy guacamole! – what hombre wouldn’t be attracted to them? Wowzers!

    Skip to this section if you just want to read about The Big Ram, and not the adventures of a deranged, yet loveable, luchador

    The sheep who eat mi familia has developed for himself a clever cover story. He claims to be The Big Ram, a South Australian icon and the centrepiece of Karoonda’s b-ewe-ming tourism industry. According to his lies – which he has even had inscribed into a plaque beside his rump – the idea for The Big Ram came from a señor Don Anderson, who wanted to cash in on the success of nearby Big Things such as The Big Orange and The Big Pelican.

    The sculpture was built by a señor Andrew Stock, with help from some of the more artistic members of the community. The Big Ram was unveiled in ungu-late 1997 at a cost of 12,000 pesos, with local kiddies adding a tiled mosaic to the statue’s base in 2001. He is of good quality, and certainly not sheep and nasty.

    Apparently, more than 650 hours of work went into the baa-sterpiece, along with 18 tonnes of stone sourced from shear-by quarries. But that’s just the sort of mierda story a familia-guzzling renegade ram would hide behind, isn’t it? You cannot put your wool onto my eyes, you big baby!

    They really should’ve named him Jean-Claude Van Ram

    Tears streaming down mi face, I storm up to the rascally ruminant and spit out the palabras I’ve dreamed of for eons.

    “Hola,” I rasped, whilst gesturing flamboyantly for dramatic effect. “Mi nombre is El Grande Gonzales. You eat mi father. Prepare to die.”

    The good gringos of Karoonda, who had encircled us, gasped as one. Gonzales clench his fists. The match of the century was about to begin

    Somewhere, in the distance, a lone cassowary cawed.

    I may be the most feared fighter in all of México, but it was El Gordón who threw the first punch. Teehee, you should’ve seen the hombrecito go! He kicked and he bit and he spat and he slapped until finally, slick with sweat and covered in blood, he fell to the ground.

    The sheep, he show no signs of being in a fight at all, and just stand there smiling. I take off mi shirt, adjust mi jockstrap, and prepare to rush in. But then I am struck by sudden realisation. Just like when mi tío Paco was struck by a sudden VW Beetle whilst dancing in the street. This event cost him his dream of winning México’s Got Talent.

    “Mi familia was not eaten by a sheep at all!” I exclaimed, as the townsfolk went ‘Ooooh!’ in unison. “They move to a beachside villa in Cancún, where they make a comfortable living selling NFTs to chubby American tourists. I even visit them last summer, is a nice place. Mi life has been spent travelling the globe, putting livestock into headlocks for nothing!”

    I cradled El Gordón, who was really quite seriously injured, in my muscular arms. We posed for some super cute selfies with The Big Ram, signed autographs for the understandably starstruck townsfolk, and said our farewells to Karoonda.

    “That place that sells the jalapeño poppers is still open, right?” asked a weary El Gordón.

    “Sí, señor.” And with that, we rode our donkey off into the sunset.

  • The Protest Statues, Lower Light, SA

    The Protest Statues, Lower Light, South Australia

    What do we want? More Bigs!
    When do we want ’em? Now!

    When the slimeballs at the South Australian Government threatened to turn his backyard into a dump, local legend Stephen Jones fought back in the only way he knew how – with a series of increasingly bizarre Big Things.

    Throughout the 90s, the windswept stretch of road between Lower Light and Dublin welcomed a studious rat, a cantankerous blowfly, two chaps in an environmental lookout, a sturdily-constructed UFO, an aggrieved cockroach, an eerily-realistic rendition of Ned Kelly, a towering Tin Man and (all together now!) a partridge in a pear tree.

    (Yes, yes, there’s not actually a partridge in a pear tree. It’s a joke, and a pretty dadgum funny one at that, so hold back with the hate-filled emails brimming with toxic masculinity)

    Sadly, this only served as a wake-up call that building Big Things isn’t the solution to all the world’s problems. The bigwigs in Adelaide won, the junkyard went ahead, and this little slice of paradise was forever scarred. But it’s not all bad news.

    The Protest Statues have become a beloved tribute to the rebellious spirit within all South Australians. Crow Eaters marvel at them whenever they travel up the coast, and visitors are left shocked but impressed by their whimsical folly. They’re unlike any other Bigs on the planet, but seeing them is almost as challenging as understanding them.

    Aliens and rodents and flies – oh my!

    The Protest Statues can be found by the side of the bustling Port Wakefield Highway, about an hour north of Adelaide. Don’t expect a gift shop and a set of informative signs, however. Whilst they’re easy to see from the road, each effigy is tucked away on private farmland, making it difficult to nab a selfie.

    There’s not even a designated spot to pull over and park, so semi trailers will be hurtling by as you pose for a happy snap. If, like me, you’re a cutie pie with a flair for the extravagant, expect to be the target of wolf whistles and testosterone-fuelled honking from the passing traffic. Seriously, boys, save your expressions of admiration for the Big Things!

    Those who make the effort to view this absorbing assemblage are in for a treat. Each statue is quirky and provocative, with a homemade charm that’s sure to you’ll fall in love with. The environmental lookout exudes danger and mystery, making a clear statement that no assault on the planet will go unseen.

    The rat, resplendent in his spectacles and tie, serves as a thought-provoking examination of local and state politicians. Ned Kelly, despite being petite compared to his doppelgangers in Glenrowan and Maryborough, simultaneously celebrates and critiques the more vulgar aspects of the Australian psyche.

    Ironically, it’s the Tin Man who stole the heart of this Friend of Dorothy. Who doesn’t want a tall, silent, barrel-chested chap in their life?

    They’re all wonderful, but this collection truly is more than the sum of its parts. When seen together, strewn haphazardly beside a dusty stretch of freeway, the Protest Statues make a powerful statement on love and life that will have you questioning your own values and morals. These are the thinking man’s Big Things.

    Between a cockroach and a hard place

    Cockroaches, they say, shall outlive mankind. So it should come as no surprise that the most celebrated of the Protest Statues, The Big Cockroach, has taken a kickin’ and keeps on tickin’.

    (Yes, yes, I understand that cockroaches are insects whilst ticks are arachnids, and never the twain shall meet, but the joke still hits the mark. You don’t have to email me about it every week, Darryn from the Institute for the Study of EndemiC InverTebrates [INSECT]. By the way, your acronym is lous-y!)

    The Blattodean heartthrob was left to the whims of the South Australian weather, and by late-2013 he was far from his charismatic self. When, one acrid day in December of that year, the Cockroach went missing from his perch, some assumed he’d scurried off to the big nest in the sky. Many, sadly, simply didn’t care.

    But one man did care – local TV legend, and self-confessed Big Thing tragic, Andrew Costello. As a former contestant on fat-shaming weight-loss program The Biggest Loser, ‘Cosi’ knows what it’s like to be consigned to the fringes of society. For the bargain price of two slabs of beer, the loveable larrikin bought the Cockroach and had him fully restored.

    Whilst the temptation to install this delightful Big in his backyard must have been as irresistible as one of the powdered donuts he once gorged himself on, Cosi did the right thing. After a month-long residency in Adelaide’s notorious Rundle Mall – next to The Big Pigeon – the Big Cockroach was returned to his home beside the the other statues. From all of us here at Land of the Bigs, thank you, Cosi.

    The Big Cockroach might’ve had a facelift and spent time with South Australia’s entertainment elite, but don’t worry – he’s still ap-roach-able!

  • The Big Pelican, Loxton, SA

    The Big Pelican, Loxton, South Australia

    Peli-can you imagine anything more de-flight-ful than this wonderful waterbird? No, I don’t bill-ieve you can! The Big Pelican is the main attraction of South Australia’s verdant Riverland region, and has a story more wing-credible than you can imagine.

    With a personality even larger than his beak, The Big Pelican has long been the darling of Loxton’s robust social scene. He’s vivacious and outgoing with a slight bad boy edge, and always the centre of attention.

    The Big Pelican is the sort of guy all the dusky moorhens want, and all the dollarbirds want to be.

    Those empathetic (and tall!) enough to have stared into his deep, caramel eyes, however, may have discovered something more; the sweet melancholy of dreams unrealised. For whilst he touched millions of hearts and lived a rockstar lifestyle, all The Big Pelican really wanted was to paddle along the Murray River with his normal-sized mates.

    The gentle caress of cool water on his tasty tootsies seemed little more than a flight of fancy. But then, in late-2022, a miracle happened.

    Whatever floats your boat

    Like many of the more sociable Bigs, such as Lefty, Matilda and Victoria’s Clownfish, the Pelican began life as an oversized parade float. The Loxton Mardi Gras had long lured in revellers but, thanks to the arrival of The Big Pelican, it was the 1979 edition that turned the town into a must-visit party destination.

    Move over, Rio de Janeiro! Your carnivale seems like fun, but it doesn’t have a four-metre-long aquatic chicken!

    Local chap John Draper was the visionary who came up with the idea to trundle a papier-mâché pelican through the town’s streets. Inspired, perhaps, by Pelican Pete up in Queensland, he brought in Glenn Butson and Bruce Graham to help build the behemoth, with Charlotte Thiele adding a lick of paint. Bird fanciers swarmed in to ooh and ahh at his grandeur (the Pelican, that is, not John Draper – although I’m sure he’s a very handsome man).

    The humongous heron was also the star of the 1980 Mardi Gras, but apparently the good people of Loxton partied just a little too hard. Abandoned on a riverbank, the Pelican was birdnapped by local gang members. They strapped him to some old car tubes and floated the poor wretch down the raging waters of the Murray River. His skin was destroyed, the flesh stripped from his lithe bosom.

    The poor fellow must’ve been terrified.

    Those thugs must be in their 60s by now, and have probably kept their shameful secret to themselves. Maybe now, after all these years, they can look themselves in the mirror and not feel ashamed. Perhaps they no longer wake in the early hours of the morning, slick with sweat, the Pelican’s name scraped across their sandpaper tongues. But I hope, when their time in the sun draws to a close, that the final thought to race through their bitter minds is of the horror they put that poor Pelican through back in 1980.

    It remains the darkest moment in South Australia’s long history. Well, apart from the whole bodies in barrels thing, but it’s still pretty bad.

    You can’t keep a good pelican down

    Five years after his seeming demise, The Big Pelican was resurrected by an enterprising young dude named Peter Mangelsdorf. With stars in his eyes, Pete believed that the king-sized cormorant could find fame and fortune in one of the world’s cultural hotspots, and so took him to the bright lights of Adelaide.

    With the help of Roy Harvey, Dana Braddock, Ruth Pfeiller and some of the area’s more ambitious students, The Big Pelican came back better than ever. He appeared at the 1985 New Year’s Eve spectacular, and returned to Adelaide for the well-received Murray Comes to Town festival in 1989.

    When not mingling with Adelaide’s glitterati, this beaky chap was the centrepiece of the Loxton Mardi Gras until 1992. Like the rest of us, this party boy finally had to grow up, put the sequinned hotpants away and become a respectable member of society. Peter had long dreamed of having this pouch-standing example of modern architecture fibreglassed and put on permanent display, which he was able to do in 1998 with the help of Peter Goodhand.

    The Big Pelican was placed inside Loxton Riverfront Caravan Park, where he spent his days inspiring a new generation to greatness. But, as always, he had one eye on the tranquil swell of the mighty Murray…

    Floody hell!

    If the The Big Pelican can’t go to the river, then the river will come to The Big Pelican. In late 2022, torrential rainfall caused the Murray River to swell like the pregnant belly of a 2,508km-long snake. As the waters rose, sweeping away all in their path, the Pelican watched on and dreamed of floating on the refreshing brine – this time on his own terms.

    The caravan park he called home was drowned beneath metres of mud and finally, blissfully, The Big Pelican found himself surrounded by water. The sight was odd to locals, but also just felt right, as if the big fellow was finally where he belonged.

    The waters receded. The park was cleaned up and, eventually, will once again welcome campers. The Big Pelican sits again on dry land once more, the stream achingly close. But look at his curved beak. Stare into those deep, caramel eyes, and you’ll see something that wasn’t there before. You’ll see a flicker of life and excitement, born of a few unbelievable days upon the Murray River.

    Miracles do happen. Just ask The Big Pelican.

    Epilogue: When Bigs met Barry

    During my visit to The Big Pelican I was fortunate enough to spend time with the irrepressible Barry Mangelsdorf, the brother of Peter. Barry is as charming as he is knowledgable of the Pelican, and regaled me with many stories of the Pelican’s adventures over the years.

    We’ll go for that swim next time I’m passing through town, Baz!

  • Equus Altus, Leeds, England

    Equus Altus, Leeds, England

    “The High Horses”

    We will fly, to Leeds, oh my!
    Where the cold wind blows
    There is no sun, but it’s still fun
    There’s a stallion there, don’t you know?
    Equus Altus, by Andy Scott, is situated
    Deep in Trinity Leeds‘ beating heart
    He’s the most handsome hunk in the herd
    Caught above some shopping carts
    Can’t you hear him?
    Oh, he neighs so loud
    Casts his wild note over the gobsmacked crowd

    That’s the way it’s gonna be, little darlin’
    We’ll be admiring the horsie, yeah
    Way up in the sky, is this darlin’
    And if he falls he’ll muck you up, muck you up

    You will grow and until you go
    To see Yorkshire’s cloven pride
    And even then whisper the wind
    But don’t try to touch his side
    Or the ropes holding him may become unfurled
    A chubby chap below will cry
    As he watches the giant gelding falling down
    If it lands on him he’ll die
    Oh good, the chubby chap went to Gregg’s for a sensibly-priced sausage roll and the pony missed him
    Equus has plummeted to the ground
    Equus has landed outside the Pound… land

    That’s the way it’s gonna be, little darlin’
    We’ll be admiring the horsie, yeah
    Way up in the sky, is this darlin’
    And if he falls he’ll muck you up, muck you up

  • Kangaroo Kat, Carrara, QLD

    Hop along to Carrara Markets to meet Kat, the world’s largest wooden kangaroo. This five-metre-tall marsupial mixes brutalist design philosophies with a fun, quirky and approachable sense of honesty. You can even climb into her prodigious pouch to live out your fantasies of being a joey!

    Kat bounded into the Gold Coast in 2016 (which was, appropriately, a leap year), and is the passion project of Danish sculptor Thomas Dambo. Originally joined by an equally-impressive wooden snake and shark, Kat’s the only one of the trio who hasn’t become extinct.

    Planks for the memories, guys!

    “I try to do art that inspires other people to have the same joy and adventure with using the world’s trash for something positive,” Thomas told a sunburnt reporter from the ABC. “To help people open their eyes to see that it’s a shame to throw stuff out that still has more value.”

    Well, you know what they say; one man’s trash is another man’s achingly beautiful Big Kangaroo!

    Kat’s not all, folks!

    If you spot someone grinning unflinchingly up at Kangaroo Kat, tears of pride streaming down her face, then that’s the lovely lady this Big Thing was named after. Kat, a popular market worker, selflessly helped Thomas piece her together.

    When morale was low, when storms battered in and it seemed as if the project would never be finished, there was Kat with a coffee and a chocolate bickie and a few words of encouragement.

    It was her determination and grace that saw the kangaroo kompleted, and for that she was awarded the greatest honour known to mankind. Yeah, move over Kofi Annan, how many giant rats are named after you?

    As I’m sure Kat will tell you, Carrara Markets are the place to walla-be. You’re bound to find some mar-super-ial bargains. As well as a pouch-standing selection of chutneys and relishes, there are also piles of pottery-roos and lollihops for the kids.

    You might even find a snazzy jumpsuit for that special joey in your life. I tried my best to spend up a storm but, unfortunately, my cheque bounced.

    Gangaroo activity

    Australians roo-lly love their massive marsupials. Matilda the Kangaroo lives a few hours away in Traveston, while Rooey II can be found in Border Village, South Australia. You can have a devil of a time with the Big Tassie Devil down in Mole Creek. And there’s a plethora of koalas, with furbabies in Salt Ash, Doonside and Port Macquarie.

    The towering critters have certainly scurried their way into my heart and so, overcome by lust, I bunkered down inside Kat’s pouch to start a new life. I allowed myself to fantasise about living inside her, safe and warm, the world’s frigid tendrils unable to reach me betwixt her sun-kissed wooden panels.

    It was not to be, and I was plucked from her womb by a couple of burly security guards shortly thereafter. Too bad, I thought I’d finally found a kanga-room with a view!

  • Big Bird, Blackpool, England

    Big Bird, Blackpool, England

    They smell funny, strut around with their chests puffed out looking for fights, and love to eat rubbish they find on the ground. But enough about the good people of Blackpool, we’re here to talk about pigeons.

    Of course I’m kidding; Blackpudlians are warm-hearted, perspicacious people (and I don’t want to get glassed next time I’m in town for a drag show!).

    Standing 3.5 metres tall and weighing more than a tonne, Big Bird was built by MDM Props in Greenwich, London. The carcasses of 10 taxis were torn apart to create her womanly wings, sensual scapularc and melon-heavy breast. Oh, Big Bird, I’ve got a Taxi Cab Confession – you’re beautiful!

    Modelled after the Trafalgar Square Pigeon – the second-least-diseased species of flying rodent – Big Bird first appeared outside the Museum of London a few years back. I certainly hope there was a good fish ‘n’ chip shop nearby!

    Big Bird has since flown the length and breadth of the UK, bringing joy to lives of all who bear witness to her metallic grandeur. But, as she’s not nailed down, I hope the local tough guys don’t try to pinch-eon her during the night!

    To sum things up, I like Big Birds an’ I cannot lie!

  • Clawdia, Cancún, México

    Clawdia the Crab, Cancún, México

    It’s common to catch crabs in Cancún and, with cuties like Clawdia, that’s cause for shellebration. Just look at her melon-heavy cephalothorax – who wouldn’t want to drizzle lemon juice all over it ?

    The leggy Latina lives atop Ferry’s Cantina, which is famous throughout México for its fresh fish tacos and all-you-clam-eat lobster burritos. I’m on a low-crabohydrate diet, so went with a nip of tequila with a pinch of salt… and some crabtivating conversation with Diego, the restaurant’s ever-attentive busboy. What more could a guy mollusc for!

    Better still, it’s right next to the ferry to the salubrious Isla Mujeres, home to the much-loved Iggy la Iguana. I suggest you power up with a plate of tostadas al pastor before making the trip out there – you know how crabby you get when you’re hungry!

    I want to scuttle those persistent rumours and say that, despite being enthralled by her soft, pink, juicy meat, Clawdia and I are just claws friends. However, I did go out on a date with Miguel, one of the restaurant’s handsome security prawns, but his feisty Latin temperament was just too much for me.

    Honestly, Miguel, did you have to beat up every man who looked my way? You’re shrimpossible sometimes.

    Oh well, there’s plenty more shellfish in the crustacean!

  • The Big Prawn, Tweed Heads, NSW

    The Big Prawn, Tweed Heads, New South Wales, Australia

    Liam Hemsworth. Luke Wilson. Dewey Schwarzenegger. Being the lesser-known brother of a beloved celebrity can be a heartbreaking struggle – just ask wannabe actor Bronson Pinchot (née Bardot), who will go to any lengths to step out of my shadow.

    And so it is for the Big Prawn at Tweed Heads, who will forever be compared to his much larger sibling in nearby Ballina. This surprisingly shrimpish shrimp, who measures around 1.5 metres from adorable antennule to upbeat uropod, can be found in front of the popular PKG Seafood restaurant. Come for the stylish shellfish, stay for the sprawling array of fresh and cooked ocean treats!

    As a connoisseur of anything plucked from the swirling brine and tossed into a vat of oil, I recommend the legendary Neptune Basket. Overflowing with calamari, fish pieces, hot chippies and, of course, prawn cutlets, it’s absolutely divine! There are no crab sticks, but you might be able to find some of those two minutes up the road.

    Best consumed whilst sprawled in the gutter beneath the Big Prawn, tartare sauce smeared across face, gazing in childlike wonder at the cantankerous crustacean.

    Nobody said tracking down Big Things was a glamorous pastime!

    Get off mah prawn, ya dang kids!

    If you’d like to slip yet another shrimp on the barbie, splash on over to Crangan Bay. There you’ll discover the remains of a ten-legged freak of immense proportions. Sadly, some badnik lopped off his head – and I’ll waste no time deveining the culprit when I catch him.

    Oh me, oh my, if we find any more Big Prawns we’ll have enough for a shrimp cocktail!

  • Katey Seagull, Tugun, QLD

    Katey Seagull, Tugun, Queensland, Australia

    Put the hot chips away, because the Gold Coast has been taken over by a behemoth beach chicken with an amazing appetite. Fortunately, Katey Seagull is as hungry for hugs as she is for deep-fried potatoes.

    Named after glamorous Married… With Children actress Katey Sagal, this super-sized seabird has made her nest out front of the Tugun Domestic and Commercial Waste Facility. Leggy Katey was crafted from recycled metal that’s been allowed to rust, giving her a weathered, world-weary demeanour. Seagull, that is, not Sagal – who simply doesn’t seem to age!

    The towering tern is extremely welcom-wing to strangers and has a flappy-go-lucky attitude. Sea-ing really is beak-lieving, so why not pop in for a flight-hearted conversation? I’m talon you, though, Katey can be a bit gull-ible at times – teehee!

    Feather you want to squawk about it or not, I suspect fowl play!

    The Big Seagull’s sensitive, reflective nature has, unfortunately, made her an easy target for local bullies. Gee golly, I know what that feels like. Upon first encountering Katey, I made the un-pheasant discovery that hoodlums had placed a bright orange witch’s hat over the bird’s majestic rostrum.

    Small things amuse small minds, but this act of bigotry could have ended in tragedy. Not only did the cone leave the well-proportioned creature looking peck-uliar, but it prevented her from eating and drinking. I reached her just in time. Who knows what would have happened had that awful hat remained upon her for even one more minute?

    “Yeah, that was some of the local punks,” a gruff garbageman informed me, before casting aside his carefully-curated tough guy image to allow himself to fall, weeping, into my arms. “They just won’t stop putting those cones on her beak!”

    When I find the perverts responsible – and I can assure you I will – I’ll waste no time inserting a witch’s hat somewhere very unpleasant indeed. Trust me, it shan’t be on their noses!

  • The Big Octopus, Surfers Paradise, QLD

    Ring-O, The Big Octopus, Surfers Paradise, Queensland, Australia

    Believe it or not! The Gold Coast is home to the largest octopus in the whole dang world! Ladies and jellyfish, please welcome Ring-O, starr of the glitter strip!

    The nine-metre-wide Big Octopus wiggled into Cavill Avenue, Surfers Paradise, in Octo-ber 2020, making a home for himself above the popular Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! odditorium. He was cephala-produced by local company Pico-Play, and I ink their work deserves a ten-tacle out of ten!

    It took 40 dedicated staff members more than four months to build the two-tonne tyrant. Ring-O was made from fabricated steel to help him ward off the harsh Queensland sun. Maybe they should’ve added a Big Bottle of Sunscreen to help him out!

    Unlike the deadly blue-ringed octopuses he’s modelled after, this handsome chap will only kill you with cuteness. Yes, Ring-O is a tenta-cool dude and doesn’t have a bad bone in his body…. or any bones at all, actually!

    Just look at him with his surfboard, ready to hit the waves and hang ten… or eight, in his case!

    Watch out! He’s armed and fabulous!

    Whilst his namesake, pop desperado Ringo Starr, may play the drums, this rock-topus prefers the guitar – the Big Guitar up the street, that is. Not surprisingly, this eight-legged legend is also mates with Bigfoot, who lives a short walk up the road (and an even shorter walk for Bigfoot, as his feet are so big!).

    And like many new Gold Coasters, the Big Octopus has family in Victoria. In Ring-O’s case, it’s the quirky Big Octopus in Lakes Entrance. I bet these octopods just eight being apart!

    Adults and squids alike enjoy taking a cheeky cephy with this marvellous mollusc. I’m a sucker for a photo op, so asked one of the famous Meter Maids to snap a photo of me with the slimy sweetheart. I tried to Act Naturally with Ring-O but was, of course, completely overcome by lust.

    “You octopi my every thought, will you cala-marry me?” I squirted, but Ring-O remained silent, forever waving his arms in the air. He may have three hearts but, sadly, none of them will ever beat for me.

    We’re o-fishi-ially over, Ring-O :'(

  • Ally the Alpaca, One Mile, QLD

    Ally the Alpaca, One Mile, Queensland, Australia

    Dropping the little ones off at pre-school is a heart-wrenching experience for any parent. But the mummies and daddies of Ipswich can rest easy in the knowledge their kiddies are being cared for by a bizarre giraffe/alpaca/human hybrid with a stylish bob.

    Ally the Alpaca is the star employee at Ally’s Kindy in the trendy suburb of One Mile, and is the wackiest Big Thing in Australia. Passersby and students alike could be forgiven for thinking they’ve missed their afternoon nap or are suffering the heady effects of guzzling too much red cordial.

    Despite this, her slender neck, chubby cheeks and sultry eyelashes are impossible to resist. She draws in admirers of all ages, teaching them the joys of being body-positive. Casting aside the shackles of gender and species conformity, Ally provides little ones with a valuable lesson in diversity.

    Ally was al-packaged together by Natureworks, the savants responsible for Frilly the Lizard, the Big Thorny Devil and the Big Koala Family.

    “Recently Ally’s Kindy near Ipswich asked for Natureworks’ help to put them on the map,” an excitable spokesperson revealed. “We started by taking their logo, which was a cartoon character of a friendly alpaca, and sculpted a larger-than-life version of its head. We then morphed its head onto our six-metre giraffe body and gave it a repaint.”

    There’s no doubt about it, this llama is a charmer!

    Long, tall Ally

    My playmate Gordon Shumway was acting like a big baby during our trip to One Mile, due to the decline in value of his Ethereum portfolio.

    I needed a break from his antics so I could enjoy a slice of something naughty and a good gossip with the girls in Ipswich, so I dropped Gordon off at Ally’s. The service, not surprisingly, was impeccable, and I was reassured that the little alien was in safe hands.

    Barely had I tucked into a decadent serving of red velvet cake when my phone rang. I reluctantly pulled myself away from one of the girls’ enthralling – and really quite graphic – retelling of an encounter with local heartthrob Fernando, only to be told to come pick up Gordon immediately.

    I arrived at the kindergarten, the sweet memories of buttermilk and cocoa resting heavy upon my lips, to find a dejected Gordon sitting in the gutter alone. My heart broke for my tiny friend. Ally’s expression, usually so whimsical, had become one of disdain.

    “Why won’t they accept me, man?” Gordon whimpered as we drove away, a single tear rolling down his furry face.

    “Spending our lives surrounded by Bigs, with their kind hearts and non-judgemental attitudes, means we live within an echo chamber of unconditional love. But the world can be a harsh place and many people still aren’t ready for those of us who challenge their binary ideals.”

    “Yeah, and I also tried to eat their pet cat.”

    As we cruised through the idyllic suburbs of South Brisbane, Gordon was unusually quiet. Eventually, as we pulled into his favourite El Savadoran restaurant, the little alien placed his hand upon mine and gave me a wry smile.

    “Bigs, do you think I have a shot with Ally?”

    “Gordon,” I chuckled. “Ally has great legs, but she’s too tall for you.”

  • The Camira Critters, Camira, QLD

    The Camira Critters, Camira, Queensland, Australia

    Howdy pardner, this is your hat-wearing hawtie Biggie the Kid! I don’t mind a cockatoo, so when word rang round the holler that a gang of giant birds was causin’ trouble out near Ipswich, I jumped on my trusty stead Liberace and moseyed on out to the badlands of Camira.

    The settlement’s welcome sign has long been a thing of cotton-pickin’ beauty, and a source of pride for the natives. By the time I arrived, it had been well and truly overrun by ne’er-do-wells. There was a colossal kookaburra, a prodigious possum and yes – a real hard-lookin’ cocky.

    Ladies and gentlemen, I had run afoul of the notorious Camira Critters.

    It’s not often a fella finds three Big Things nestled so roody-poo close together. When it comes to big, strong, handsome native gentlemen, being outnumbered three-to-one are just the odds this cowboy likes – yeehaw!

    Cocky, Awesome Possum and Kooks – as their legion of admirers know them – aren’t the largest Bigs around, but are handsome enough to make up for it. Several empty poles pointed to the possibility of more gang members, but they didn’t appear. I was half expectin’ a Big Single Mother or a Big Toothless Bogan. It was Ipswich, after all!

    The Good, the Bad and the Cuddly

    I swaggered upon the critters, all tough and rough and overflowin’ with machismo. Unholstered my Kodak Instamatic. Spat a thick wad of Hubba Bubba on the dusty ground, then thought better of it and wrapped it in a small sheeth of paper before carefully disposing of it in the nearest bin.

    “Boys, boys, boys,” I snarled, peering at them with eyes so blue they would make the devil himself run and hide. “I’m going to have to capture you – for a photo! Three of you is guilty of bein’ just too darn cute!”

    Posing majestically with the gang in the wilting light of a Queensland afternoon, a ruckus tore through Camira’s tranquil bushland. Suddenly a coupé utility vehicle – or a ‘ute’, as the natives call it – came to a screeching halt in front of myself and my new friends. We watched in silence as four large, heavily-tattooed scoundrels climbed out, their mullets flapping in the light breeze.

    They were trouble personified. Hate warmed up. A cyclone of bigotry in flanelette shirts.

    The dawn of a new Camira

    “You with this galah?” the leader asked, pointing at the oversized animals. There was a sneer on his face that could darken the brightest day, and his flunkies howled like a pack of deranged baboons.

    “Actually, he’s a cockatoo,” I replied gallantly. “But yeah, we’re bosom buddies – what are you gonna do ’bout it, amigo?”

    “We was just wonderin’ whether there was any other massive creatures like ’em,” one of the toughs said shyly, kicking at the dirt. I realised that their hyper-aggressive display of toxic masculinity was a mask for their love of Big Things.

    “Of course, my passive-aggressive pal. There’s a gaggle of giant native birds in Queensland, such as Pete, the Big Parrot, and the nearby Big Honeyeater. And y’see that possum there?”

    “How could I miss, him, padre? He’s several times the size of a regular ring-tailed possum.”

    “There are many other mega marsupials scampering around Australia, such as Matilda the Kangaroo, the Big Koala and the Big Tassie Devil.

    “Aw shucks, Biggie,” piped up another gang banger, scribbling into a small notebook. “The only thing bigger than these animals is our love and respect for you.”

    The brutes snapped a series of playful photos with their hero – the one and only Biggie the Kid – before piling back into their coupé utility vehicle and cruising peacefully into the inky twilight.

    Silence descended upon the roadside, and I prepared to say my goodbye to the gang. Kissing the possum on his ring-tail, I climbed atop Liberace once again and reflected upon the lessons I’d learnt. Not all gang-related activity is detrimental to the community. One should never judge a book by its cover, nor a Queenslander by the cut of his mullet.

    And a handsome cowboy, raised on a steady diet of ultraviolence and and fear, can learn the meaning of love.

  • The Big Honeyeater, Logan Reserve, QLD

    The Big Blue-Faced Honeyeater, Logan reserve, Queensland, Australia

    I believe I can fly
    I believe I can kiss this big guy
    I think about Big Blue every night and day
    His handsome wings take my breath away
    I believe he wants more
    Cuddlin’ each other till we’re both sore
    I believe I can fly
    I believe Big Blue’s all mine
    I believe he’s my guy (wooooooo)

    The words of urban visionary R-Kelly resonate with visitors to The Big Blue-Faced Honeyeater, who really will make you believe you can fly.

    This superbly-detailed Big is perched outside the Sequana housing development in trendy Logan Reserve, giving the residents a birds-eye view of his feathery loveliness.

    As twilight settles over this little slice of heaven, the air rings out with calls of, “Honeyeater, I’m home!” It’s no coincidence, therefore, that housing prices in the village are 13.7 percent higher than surrounding, Big Thing-free suburbs.

    Sure, nearby Marsden has a vibrant culinary scene, some of the state’s most respected educational institutions and a range of sprawling, yet immaculately-maintained parks and reserves. But without a Big Thing to call their own, the locals might as well be living in the slums of Mumbai.

    I don’t want your money, Honey, I want your love!

    Blue-faced honeyeaters are native to Logan, although they rarely grow to such epic proportions. It’s not uncommon to witness a clutch of ‘bananabirds’ nestled atop their oversized amigo. What can I say, who doesn’t enjoy a night out with a bigger bird?

    Though generally amicable, honeyeaters are known to violently attack intruders such as goannas and dogs – the perfect security system. Not surprisingly, there have been remarkably few lizard-related ransackings of homes since the winged wonder was installed a few years ago.

    Australians have fallen in plover – oops, I mean in love! – with giant birds. There’s the leggy Stanley the Emu in Lightning Ridge. The wise, yet delightfully chubby Chinute Chinute in Darwin. The Big Chook in Western Sydney and his cousin, Charlie, in Newcastle. And waddled we do without Tasmania’s Big Penguin?

    Oh yeah, and Pelican Pete is just up the road from Big Blue in Noosa – I can’t beak-lieve I forgot about him! The Honeyeater, however, might just be the sweetest of them all.

    Honestly, I could chirp this friendly fowl’s praises until, like him, I’m blue in the face!

  • The Big Red Belly, Maudsland, QLD

    The Big Red Belly, Maudsland, Queensland, Australia

    Do you have a viper-active child with heaps of ser-pent-up energy? Want to put a great big reptile on their face? Maybe you’re just after a quiet spot to sit and enjoy a meat pie-thon? Then give the Big Red Belly a try-pan!

    Located in sprawling Gibirrngaan Park within Maudsland’s exclusive Huntington Estates (which, sadly, doesn’t offer anaconda-miniums), the Big Red Bellied Black Snake is surrounded by stunning gardens and play equipment. There are even slides and swings for the asp-iring gymnasts.

    Unlike his cold-blooded cousins, who are amongst the most dangerous snakes on the planet, this concrete colossus is cute and congenial. He welcomes kiddies to climb atop his handsome head, and it’s even possible to perform a-cobra-batics off his tube-like body.

    The adder-ly adorable Big Red Belly was boa-constructed in 2018 by the team at Urban Play, and really is a venom-ust see next time you’re on the Gold Coast. Yeah, forget the world class beaches, fruity nightlife and thrilling theme parks, because this ophidian-credible park in Maudsland is the new centre of the universe.

    Though not as gob-smackingly huge as Gubulla Munda in Ayr, this verte-great big snake is no limb-less impressive. Yes, he’s one in a reptilian, but if you have a foot fetish, you might prefer The Big Thorny Devil in Canberra or Dirrawuhn the Goanna in Lismore.

    The Big Red Belly sure is un-hisssss-able!

    A WORD OF WARNING: It’s not a great idea to ask the children of Maudsland if they’d like to ‘come to the park to see a great big snake’. Thank you to the local constabulary for rescuing me from what would have been a fairly unpleasant public lynching at the hands of the enraged locals.

  • Dirrawuhn the Big Goanna, Lismore, NSW

    Dirrawuhn the Big Goanna, Lismore, New South Wales, Australia

    Hell came to Lismore in early 2022, when a wall of water surged through the northern New South Wales town and consumed everything before it. Lives and homes and businesses were obliterated as weeks of wild weather caused flood waters to reach an incredible 15 metres.

    With official rescue efforts consumed by chaos, survivors were left stranded on rooftops for days as the nightmare worsened. Brave villagers risked their lives to rescue neighbours and strangers as the whole world fell apart around them.

    When the water finally subsided, the horror of their new reality set in. Thousands were left homeless. Piles of furniture lay rotting in the summer sun. The town square was transformed into a makeshift rescue shelter, looking like something out of a war zone. Crooked souls wandered aimlessly through the sludge, searching solemnly for the shattered shards of their lives.

    Lismore, a proud village that had stood for almost two centuries, was destroyed. And Dirrawuhn, the enormous goanna who watches over the town from beside the regional art gallery, was left heartbroken.

    Dirrawuhn in a Million

    Dirrawuhn’s story flows back 50,000 years, to the age of the Dreamtime. Enormous creatures roamed the wild lands of Australia, creating the rivers and mountains and valleys. Goannas were seen as guardians of the area that would one day be known as Lismore, and were revered by the native Bundjalung people.

    In 2009, Lismore Council decided to honour this history by installing a goanna statue of epic proportions in the centre of town – years before their counterparts in Taree had the same idea. Local artist Keith Cameron took to the task with gusto, creating the 300kg mesh marvel in his Tabulam backyard.

    When Dirrawuhn was completed, Keith waited patiently for someone from the Council to pick up him up. And waited. And waited. The leviathan lay in Keith’s yard for five long years, staring out at the rolling hills and swaying gum trees. Despite splashing out $17,000, the giant goanna just sort of slipped through the cracks.

    “It still lives here at South Tabulam, paid for by the Lismore ratepayers,” Keith told a bemused reporter from the ABC at the time. “They obviously own it, I don’t. I’ve never had any communication, other than a few words by Lismore City Council, they’ve never asked me to store it, look after it, or do anything.

    “I guess I’d like it to be placed in a position where it’s enjoyed by Bundjalung people and others, and to be used for what it was originally intended.”

    When brave Dirrawuhn finally took his rightful spot in the centre of town, a new age of prosperity and happiness ensconced Lismore. And then nature, cruelly, took it all away.

    You’re the Dirrawuhn That I Want

    Lismore was a mess of mud and mayhem when I rolled in, mere days after the water subsided. The area around Dirrawuhn was smeared with slime, a single hanging from his eye. The stench of rotting carpet was overwhelming. Mutilated mattresses and trashed tables lined the streets, and an eerie silence blanketed the town.

    Despite spending time completely submerged in the muck, the lengthy lizard had been spared the worst of the carnage. He still stands regally in a small park, although during my visit he was covered in muck and looking beaten down by the weight of expectation.

    Keith’s craftsmanship is awe-inspiring. He really captured the ferocity of this Australian icon, whilst creating an artwork that fits in with the working-class nature of Lismore. Dirrawuhn is approachable and always up for a photo, although his enclosure was taped off when I arrived.

    But there’s something else to Dirrawuhn now; a sadness, a coldness, hardness. He’s witnessed loss and heartbreak. Seen those he watches over at their lowest points. Observed the ferocity of the land he loves so much. These things change a reptile.

    Beneath his steel facade, however, is a gleaming sense of pride and wonder. For Dirrawuhn also bore witness to feats of extreme bravery and selflessness, as those he has sworn to protect came together to save the town. 

    Lismore will never be the town it was before damnation swept through, but the people will rebuild it. And right there watching them, inspiring them, will be the indomitable Dirrawuhn the Big Goanna.

  • The Undaunted Spirit, Fremont, Washington

    The Undaunted Spirit, Brown Bear Car Wash, Fremont, Washington, United States of America

    Are you teddy for a good time? Then track down this snout-standing bronze bear, who is paws-ibly the hairiest, scariest, most delicious chap in Seattle. Trust me, you’ll fang me for it later!

    Known as The Undaunted Spirit, the giant grizzly can be found outside the un-bear-lievably bargain-priced Brown Bear Car Wash. They boast centres across the hiber-nation, most with ultra-sized ursidaes out the front. I guess they just like panda-ing to bear lovers.

    This ferocious fourteen-footer was created by local artist, horseman and naturist naturalist Lorenzo Ghiglieri. He fell in love with the rugged Washington landscape decades ago, and dedicated his life to recreating it through his art – often working bearfoot.

    Never bear us apart!

    This cute little cub has been on the lookout for a big, strong, handsome bear to growl old with. Upon meeting The Undaunted Spirit, I threw restraint out the window to bear my very soul to him. Sadly, despite being un-bear-ably handsome, this hirsute hunk can also be a little aloof, and rebuffed my advances. I guess he might be a bi-polar bear.

    My visit to the Brown Bear wasn’t a complete waste, however. Not having a car to wash due to an international driving ban that American authorities take surprisingly seriously, I strolled through for a much-needed shower after weeks of wandering the highways of the United States.

    Yes, I ended up with industrial strength bleach in my eyes and the bristles left several serious lacerations on my face and thorax that may never heal, but it was nice to chat with people afterwards without them wincing at my musky stench.

    Fremont really does have an An em-bear-assment of riches when it comes to Big Things. The Undaunted Spirit isn’t fur from the tendentious Lenin statue, and the Fremont Troll is also claws by. It seems like every street offers a kodiak moment!

  • The Big Water Dragon, Port Macquarie, NSW

    The Big Water Dragon, Port Macquarie, New South Wales

    Port Macquarie? More like Port Mac-don’t-worry, because there’s a giant aquatic lizard watching over the town! The Big Water Dragon was installed in 2017, as part of major upgrades to the historic Kooloonbung Creek Nature Park.

    The park is also home to over 100,000 flying foxes, who can be seen hanging from trees down by the well-maintained mangroves boardwalk. Sadly they’re all normally-sized and prone to urinating on visitors.

    The Big Water Dragon was crafted by Bill Lawrence of the Natural Landscape Co., with help from talented concreter Matt ‘The Boss’ Penboss. His vivid, colourful paintjob was completed by local artist Lynley Kirkness, who poured her heart and soul into this project. Lyn, you might want to sit down before reading on.

    Won’t somebody please think of the supersized lizard!

    Obviously unimpressed by Lyn’s keen eye for pastel hues, some local tough guys have decorated the poor water dragon with a variety of illegible tags and sadly all-too-legible depictions of male genitalia.

    These hooligans have turned the park into their own personal den of inequity and took immediate exception to my androgynous dress sense and shrill, girlish squeals of delight.

    A severe beating was in the offing until I calmed the unruly mob down by explaining the cultural significance of the Big Water Dragon and his unique place within the pantheon of Australian Big Things. They seemed particularly inspired by my tales of the nearby Big Bowl and Big Koala Family, along with other giant lizards Joanna, Dirrawuhn and Frilly.

    After listening intently for several hours, the heavily-tattooed gangbangers not only decided against using my gall bladder as a football – as had been the general consensus – but also that they might think about putting their shirts back on and looking for jobs.

    One even suggested he’d stop smoking marijuana out of plastic orange juice bottles, but I’ll believe that when I see it.

    The Big Water Dragon and the inimitable Bigs Bardot; proving that not all heroes wear capes, but that they usually are just as cute as a button!

  • Harvey the Rabbit, Aloha, Oregon

    Harvey the Rabbit, Aloha, Oregon, United States of America

    For more than half a century, Harvey the Rabbit has brought love and laughter to the good people of West Portland. The quirky 25-foot-tall bunny stands merrily beside the Tualitin Valley Highway in scenic Aloha, offering a big wave and a warm grin to generations of Oregonians.

    Most pass by, honk, and think no more of the brief encounter. But those brief moments are all that keep Harvey standing.

    To spend time with Harvey – I mean really spend time with him – is to discover that this bunny’s smile is merely painted on. Behind the gaudy clothing and outrageous whiskers is a thoughtful, if deeply troubled, individual with a traumatic past and a poet’s soul.

    Harvey’s been tortured, abused, abandoned, and felt the crushing weight of hatred and prejudice. He’s survived a brutal sexual assault that would bring most roadside attractions to their knees. Yet even as the world crumbles around him, Harvey, putting the happiness of those passing by before his own needs, keeps up the façade.

    And now it’s time for the true horror of Harvey’s life to be cast into the Oregon sun.

    Species dysphoria blues

    Harvey started life not as a rabbit, but as a man. He was originally one of around 300 Big Friends created to stand proudly in front of Texaco gas stations. From a young age he felt uncomfortable with his identity, as if he’d been born into the wrong fibreglass body. To this day, Harvey dislikes talking about this part of his life, and refuses to reveal what his ‘dead name’ was.

    “That man with the hat and the eyebrows has been dead a long time,” Harvey told me in an honest and wide-ranging interview. “Deep down, I always knew I was different from the other Big Friends. I’d look at my reflection in car windows and think, ‘Where are my pointy ears and fluffy tail? But it wasn’t easy to be yourself back in the 1960s. I was filled with inner turmoil. A tsunami of self-hatred raged within me.”

    In 1962, the winds of change blew through Oregon. A massive storm brutalised the ‘old Harvey’ and sent him careening upon a journey of self-acceptance. The statue’s owner took his broken Big Thing to Harvey Marine for repair, leaving him with owner Ed Harvey as he stepped out for ‘a pack of cigarettes’.

    He never returned.

    “The storm broke my head in half,” Harvey lamented, ” but my father abandoning me broke my soul in half. I gave up on life for a while after that.”

    Harvey lay amongst the verdant Portland grass for more than a decade, peeling in the sun, forgotten and neglected. The few bright spots in his mundane existence came when Ed would take him to a nearby lake to use him as a boat. Harvey, craving any kind of acknowledgement, simply went along with this deplorable act of emotional manipulation.

    The Old Harvey

    Man, I feel like a rabbit

    During the free-lovin’ summer of 1974, Ed Harvey became obsessed with a movie about a giant invisible rabbit named Harvey and, late one night, decided to make his own. It was 1974, after all.
    Ed crafted a monstrous bunny-head out of fibreglass and plonked it atop the Big Friends’ broad shoulders, then erected him outside his shop.

    The response was immediate, with thousands of fanatical supporters enthusiastically honking their horns as they drove past. Love letters poured in, and it was common for bouquets of roses and boxes of chocolates to be found at Harvey’s oversized feet.

    Harvey, finally, seemed to have found the love he so craved.

    “I waved at 10,000 motorists a day, and 10,000 motorists waved right back at me,” Harvey enthused. “People travelled from around the world to meet me. I had my photo taken with the Beatles, Muhammad Ali and Elvis Presley. I was even engaged to Farrah Fawcett for a few weeks, until she sobered up. It was good, man, it was good.”

    There’s nothing bunny about what happened next

    The good times, unfortunately, were short-lived. Harvey, as a trans-specied rabbit in a predominately white, heterosexual neighbourhood, was the target of disgusting bigotry. His fingers were broken off. His ears were stolen. And then the unthinkable happened.

    During a cold, moonless evening in the mid-90s, a gang of depraved perverts descended upon Harvey. Not prone to prejudice, Harvey greeted them with his customary smile and wave, but the creeps wanted something more. They wanted Harvey’s innocence.

    The particulars of this deranged encounter have, thankfully, been lost to the ravages of time. Harvey acknowledges that something happened but, understandably, does not want to relive the darkest period of his life. All we know is that when Ed arrived at work the next day, a grotesquely oversized phallus had been attached to poor Harvey.

    “Yeah, they stuck a big penis on him,” Ed’s son told a media scrum at the time. The quote made headlines around the world.

    Ed and his family were physically sickened by what they saw. Portland was shocked, with a slow procession of cars passing by to honk solemnly. Harvey, of course, went right on smiling as his whole world fell apart.

    Down the rabbit hole

    Harvey’s life spiralled out of control. He was used by the FBI as a meeting place for informers. He underwent extensive plastic surgery to radically alter his appearance, as if distancing himself from the lacerations of his past.

    “With my physical limitations, I wasn’t able to look in a mirror – and I doubt there’s one big enough, anyway,” Harvey trembled. “But if I had been able to, I wouldn’t have liked what I saw. I wanted to erase any trace of my former self.”

    Portlanders turned their attention to alternative rock and craft beer. The number of honks decreased into nothingness. Ed Harvey passed away in 2017, and Harvey Marine closed its doors for the final time. The giant rabbit was discarded once again. He now stands beside an empty building, promoting nothing, beaten by time and the relentless Oregon rain.

    Despite the horror show of his life, Harvey is still an impressive specimen. He’s incredibly quirky and distinctive, and his size induces a real sense of awe – much like the nearby Paul Bunyan. The giant bunny’s a work of art by any definition, an icon, a part of the region’s rich history. He’s fun to take photos with, and as welcoming as any Big you’ll ever find. He can even be quite playful and cheeky if caught on the right day.

    Just understand that this is one Big Thing who has been through hell and has the scars to prove it.

    Don’t worry, be hoppy

    Knowing our time together was coming to an end, Harvey and I stood in silent unison for the longest time. The only sound was the beating of our hearts and the occasional honk from a disinterested local. I tried to find the right words but, for once, they wouldn’t come.

    “You know, Harvey,” I stumbled, “it’s going to get easier.”
    Harvey stood there in the mist, waved at a passing SUV, did his best to hide the single tear that rolled down his plump cheek. “No,” he replied sadly, “it won’t.”

    I patted Harvey on his muscular calf, gave him a sad smile of understanding, and walked away forever.

  • Howie the Turtle, Oak Park, California

    Howie the Turtle, Oak Park, California

    McLatchy Park, home to a happy-go-lucky turtle and a rag-tag selection of oversized fruit and junk food, seems like the happiest place on Earth. It’s hard to imagine that this tranquil slice of Californian suburbia was the site of one of history’s most tragic events.

    Joyland Amusement Park opened to a flabbergasted public in 1913, boasting a giant racer, swimming baths, and a zoo. There was even a turtle named Howie, who provided much joy to the people of Sacramento until perishing from loneliness in early 1914.

    Men, women and children would ride the streetcars to the park on Sac’s outskirts, looking to escape the crushing banality of a world before the Big Bike and Big Hands were around to amuse them. Then, in 1920, fire tore through the park, destroying the rides and wiping out many of the remaining animals.

    Howie, it seems, had the best of it.

    Guess who’s back, back again?
    Howie’s back, tell a friend!

    The charred remains of the fair were purchased by a Mr Valentine McClatchy, who named it James McClatchy Park after his father. At the time of publishing, I’ve been unable to confirm whether the ‘Park’ bit is because it was a park, or whether his father was actually named James McClatchy-Park.

    It was soon gifted to the city and turned into public recreation grounds. The current-day playground was installed a few years ago, with its design heavily inspired by history. The slide looks like a rollercoaster, there’s a huge box of popcorn… and there’s even a turtle.

    A century since his passing, Howie is back to charm and enthral the people of Sacramento with his cheeky grin and oddball personality. Though slightly smaller than his Aussie cousin Colin, this turtle has won the hearts of a new generation of thrillseekers.

    And the best news is that this is one turtle unlikely to die of depression, because children (and grown men who act like children) are constantly climbing on him. McLatchy Park is, finally, the very happiest place on Earth once more.

  • The Big Crab, San Francisco, California

    The Big Crab, San Francisco, California Fisherman's Wharf

    “(Sittin’ With) the Crab for the Day”

    Sittin’ in the San Fran sun
    The Crab’ll be snippin’ when the evenin’ comes
    Watching Bigs Bardot roll in
    Then he’ll make an excuse and scuttle away forever, yeah

    I’m sittin’ with the Crab for the day
    Wondering which way he sways, ooh
    Because it’s scientifically proven crabs can be gay
    Crustacean time!

    I left my home in Gosford
    Headed for the Frisco Bay
    ‘Cause I’ve had everythin’ to live for
    As there’s a Big Thing to visit every day

    So I’m just gon’ sit with the Crab for the day
    Watchin’ the way his his cephalothorax sways, ooh
    Shopping at the The Wharf Store is a good way to save
    Crustacean time!

    My obsession with the Big Crab may seem strange
    But trust me when I say I am sane
    I want him to pinch my bum even when I say not to
    But he doesn’t want to play that game, no

    The poor ol’ Big Crab has no bones
    Without him I fear I’ll die alone, listen
    I’m 20,000 miles from home
    Kissing a crab statue highlighted in chrome

    Now I’m just gon’ sit with my beloved Crab for a day
    Until he inevitably scurries away, ooh yeah
    Why will nobody I love stay
    My whole life has been a waste of time

  • The Big Koala Family, Port Macquarie, NSW

    The Big Koala Family, Billabong Zoo, Port Macquarie, New South Wales

    We are family
    I got all my koalas with me
    We are family
    Get up to Port Mac for this Big Thing

    Good things come in threes… or should I say Big Things come in TREES! Either way, this trio of torpid titans are the perfect embodiment of the modern euc-lear family.

    The Big Koala Family stand a grand total of eight metres tall and take pride of place in front of Port Macquarie’s sprawling Billabong Zoo, where it’s possible to take a happy snap with one of their regular-sized cousins. Emphasis on regular-sized, so I didn’t bother going in there.

    The monument is lovingly maintained and anatomically correct. There’s enough humour and character in the design to make for fun photos, and the gang are well positioned within lush bushland for a meet and greet.

    You could even say they’re un-bear-ably cute! Even though, scientifically, koalas aren’t bears, they’re marsupials. Thanks, biology, for getting in the way of another of my jokes!

    They’re a weird, yet adorable, mob!

    You might be surprised to learn that these Aussie icons are, like many of us, immigrants. The Big Koala Family was built by Natureworks (the Big Thorny Devil; Frilly the Lizard) in 1990, originally taking up residence in front of the successful Coffs Harbour Zoo. Those were the halcyon days of the town, with the Big Banana and Big Bunch of Bananas also proving a-peel-ing to tourists.

    Cataclysmically, the allure of this fabulous family wasn’t enough to save the zoo, which closed in 2007. Amid the hopelessness and destruction, the brave refugees packed their pouches for the long, hazardous journey south. Fending off bigotry, poverty and the fact everyone drives on the wrong side of the road, they found solace in another subtropical paradise.

    Like most ethnics, they’ve become much-loved members of their community – much like the nearby Big Bowl. Their vibrant migrant community is growing, with more than 80 one-metre-tall koalas hidden around town. Sure, there are a few concerns regarding the changing demographics of Port Mac, but most welcome their hairy, chlamydia-riddled new neighbours. Next they’ll be asking for the vote!

    A koala-ty design

    Keeping with the theme of family, I visited with my best friend/mentor Gordon Shumway and Rory, our adopted son. Rory is a child of koala background, and it was illuminating for him to meet others of his kind. As we left the zoo, I pinched Rory’s chubby little cheek and asked him what it was like to learn more about his history and culture.

    “I guess it was cool,” Rory replied, before returning to a YouTube video featuring a woman dressed as a princess opening Kinder Surprise chocolate eggs. Kids, hey!

    Fun fact: the two adult koalas are, in fact, both male. There you go – large and progressive!

    A note from the inimitable Bigs Bardot: Unfortunately I inadvertently outed two brave and sanctimonious koalas in this article. For that I apologise unreservedly. Coming out is a process that should never be taken out of someone’s hands and, as someone whose sexuality is under constant media scrutiny, I’m ashamed of my actions.

    Geoff and Scott – you’re braver than you can ever know. I’ve left the article untouched as a tribute both to my callousness and your gallantry as gay koalas. You guys rock!

  • Joanna the Goanna, Taree, NSW

    Joanna the Goanna, Taree, New South Wales Man and giant lizard

    London. New York. Rio de Janeiro. Taree.

    There was a time, not too long ago, when this coastal oasis was one of the world’s great tourist destinations. With the Big Oyster luring fascinated fans in their millions, Taree was the playground of the rich and famous, and the centre of the Big Thing universe.

    Then this riverside paradise was bypassed by the Pacific Highway and the monumental mollusc fell into disrepair, tearing the beating heart out of the town’s tourism industry.

    The five-star resorts and lavish nightclubs closed. Taree Disneyland was no longer the happiest place on Earth. Even Jamie Oliver’s Michelin star fish and chip shop served up its final Chiko roll. Taree, tragically, had become a ghost town.

    This is the epic tail of a goanna named Joanna, who returned hope and pride to a medium-sized mid-north coast conurbation.

    Taree’d and Feathered

    May 2014. The Taree Aquatic Club. I’m on my third non-alcoholic aperol spritz with a pinch of turmeric.  With cap in hand, mayor Basil Sanchez shuffles towards me, the inimitable Bigs Bardot, seeking advice on rejuvenating the town. He spews forth convoluted plans to tidy up the CBD and plant a few new trees, but it’s clear his master plan is missing something BIG.

    “Basil,” I sigh, “if you can’t maintain prolonged prosperity with the aid of an oyster of epic proportions, then I’m not sure I can help you.” Submerged in thought, I languidly sip my reasonably-priced rambutan daiquiri as I gaze out over the mighty Manning River. “I never thought I’d say this, Basil, but perhaps oversized roadside attractions aren’t the solution to all society’s problems.”

    The mayor turns away from me, doing his best to hide the tears of shame cascading down his plump cheeks. “Bigs, I know we’ve stuffed up, but give us another chance,” he splutters. “Please, the people of Taree deserve a Big Thing they can rally behind.

    “Alright, alright. Maybe you could install a giant goanna as a tribute to the Biripi people who have inhabited the area for the past 50,000 years.”

    “But Bigs, we don’t have that sort of money. We blew our budget flying you in from the Maldives. Did you have to travel first class, Bigs?”

    “Yes I did, and the sumptuous Neil Perry-curated meals and attentive service were worth every cent.” I hold up my empty glass and Basil reluctantly shuffles off to the bar to buy me another. When he returns, trembling, I soothe him with kind words and my inimitable smile.

    Her Full name is Joanna Bigs

    “Basil,” I offer when he returns, “I’d like to introduce you to a feisty, yet approachable young lady named Joanna.”

    “Oh no, Bigs. My wife has been quite clear that if she catches me with one more – ”

    “Honestly, Basil, I’m not talking about one of your cash-crazed courtesans. Joanna is a three-metre-long wooden carving of a goanna who was lovingly created by my good friend, popular local artist Rick Reynolds. And it’s your lucky day, because Rick’s willing to donate her to the town.”

    Basil devolves into a blubbering mess, but this time he’s leaking tears of pure joy. He knows that his beloved township had been saved.

    “Bigs,” Basil shudders, “the people of Taree owe you a debt that can never be repaid. But where can we install this massive lizard?

    “Somewhere that encapsulates the verdant culture and unique identity of Taree,” I explain as I take up my Dolce & Gabbana travel purse and briefly, icily, kiss Basil farewell, “and where the locals will see her every day as they go about their business”

    Joanna the Goanna can be found outside Centrelink.

  • The Big Trout, Adaminaby, NSW

    The Big Trout, Adaminaby, New South Wales Photo of a handsome man, an alien, and a giant fish

    Anglers love trawling the crystal clear waters of Adaminaby, a charming poplar-lined village nestled high in the Snowy Mountains. But it’s snow laughing matter when I say the main attraction is the Big Trout which, at 10 metres and 2.5 tonnes, is o-fish-ally the largest aquatic, craniate, gill-bearing animal in the tunaverse!

    Living on prime eel estate in the i-gill-ic Lions Park in the centre of town, the Big Trout is reely easy to find, although you may have to bait in line for a photo as he’s so popular with his legion of fins. The quality of the craftsmanship is astonishing, with a plethora of details, so you won’t want to throw this one back!

    You might call me main-stream for making this joke, but this tremendous Trout will take you hook, line and Big Thing-ker!

    The fintastic fishtory of this troutstanding landmark

    Leigh Stewart, a much-loved real estate agent and self-confessed Big Thing tragic, decided to build a massive fish during 1969’s summer of love, after a particularly successful afternoon on the lake. After taking a few years to mullet over, the cashed-up Snowy Mountains Authority were dorsal-ivating at the thought of funding Leigh’s dream.

    With the money in the tank, Leigh had his niece knock up a rough sketch of the Big-to-be, which was apparently quite splendid for a five-year-old. He raced the doodles over to his mate Andy Momnici, a popular and handsome artist from Budapest, who was more than happy to tackle the project.

    Working closely with the crayon-and-finger-paint blueprints, the Hungarian grabbed one of his more imprefish catches and froze it in an appropriate pose. He then cleared space at the Adaminaby Bowling Club and began the arduous task of sketching out a full-sized design that he cod work off.

    Andy, a slave to perfection much like myself, didn’t sleep until he was finished, working seven days a week. Except on the second and fourth barra-Mondays of the month, when the CWA held their meetings and he had to get out, lest Ethel get all up in his gill again.

    After an interminable hunt for a shed of the requisite proportions, Andy started the daunting task of building the Big Trout from steel, mesh and fibreglass. Wanting the fish’s scales to look as au-fin-tic as possible, he wrapped an extra layer of mesh around his plump rump, zapped it with an extra layer of fibreglass, then ripped it off to leave a pattern almost indistinguishable from the real deal.

    He’s more realistic than Manilla’s Big Fish, at least.

    Honestly, I caught an elderly gentleman trying to squeeze a slice of lemon onto the Trout’s tail and get stuck in with a knife and fork. After explaining the cultural and economical significance of the Big Trout to the kindly geezer, he told me off for ruining his lunch and kicked over a garbage bin on his way back to his car. There’s no pleasing some people.

    I don’t know him from Adam

    As we blazed out of Adaminaby astride my custom-built e-trike, the verdant hills melting around us, my travel partner/friendly neighbourhood alien Gordon Shumway squeezed me just a little bit tighter and leant in close.

    “You know, that Adam was a pretty cool dude,” he yelled, as I expertly manoeuvred through a particularly tight corner.
    “Adam?” I asked. “I don’t recall meeting an Adam.”

    “Yeah, the tall dude with the shiny pink-and-silver suit. Had a trout pout that would make a mackerel jealous, so maybe he had collagen injections. Anyway, I don’t want to cast aspersions. Ha! I kill me! Adam Inaby I think his name was.”
    “You mean the Big Trout?” I asked in astonishment. “His name is Adam Inaby?”

    “Do you need your herring checked? That’s what I said,” Gordon sneered. “Anyway, Bigs, let’s stop for tuna quesadillas on the way home. I know a place in Cooma that will blow your socks off.”

    And that, dear readers, is how the Big Trout became known as Adam Inaby.

  • The Big Murray Cod, Tintaldra, Vic

    The Big Murray Cod, Tintaldra, Victoria

    Tintaldra is an indigenous word that roughly translates to ‘a young man by the water’. I’m not sure what the indigenous word for ‘a young man by the water, admiring a predatory perch of epic proportions, before retiring to the nearby historic hotel for a glass of economically-priced pinot noir and a portion of the famous fish and chips’, but it might be time to change the town’s name to that.

    The Big Murray Cod swam smugly into Tintaldra – population 60 – in 2019, as part of a big budget scheme to bring more Big Things to the region. Whilst notably smaller than the nearby Big Murray Cod in Tocumwal, this perky peixe has the benefit of rotating with the wind.

    He also actually lives in a body of water, unlike pretty much every other oversized sea creature in Australia. Not even the much larger, much more famous Giant Murray Cod in Swan Hill can boast that!

    Picturesque Tintaldra is the oldest settlement along the Murray, dating back to 1837. As one of the only crossings between Victoria and New South Wales, it gained a reputation as a wild border town. The party came to a cataclysmic halt in 1937, when bushfires burnt much of Tintaldra to the ground.

    Dark days lay ahead for the town. But eight decades later, hope returned to Tintaldra when this fairly large fish was fin-stalled. These days, it’s estimated that Big Cod-related tourism makes up around 98% of the village’s economy.

    Thank Cod You’re Here

    The well-appointed Clearwater Caravan Park rests peacefully by the banks of the mighty Murray, and is the perfect place to base yourself ahead of a few days of hardcore Big Thing watching. To help plan your dream holiday to Tintaldra, I’ve drawn up a rough itinerary.

    DAY 1
    6am: Arrive in Tintaldra, head straight to the southern bank of the Murray to admire the Big Cod.
    1pm: Drag yourself away from the Big Cod for a hearty feast of salmon and asparagus with a side of locally-sauced sauvignon blanc at the newly-renovated Tintaldra Hotel and an in-depth discussion with the barman about the Big Cod.
    2pm: Climb atop the Tintaldra Bridge in order to worship the Big Cod from a slightly greater altitude.
    5pm: Return to the Tintaldra Hotel for grilled barramundi, a bottle of rosé, and further debate with the barman regarding the Big Cod.
    6pm: Assuming COVID restrictions aren’t in place and you can actually cross the river without a policeman cracking your skull for trying to enter New South Wales, sequester yourself away to the northern bank of the Murra to admire the Big Cod in the waning twilight.
    DAY 2
    Pretty much the same as Day 1.
    DAY 3
    5am: Wake up early for a dawn swim with the Big Cod.
    5:30am: Be washed away by the fast-flowing Murray Riveriver, leaving your loved ones with no closure as to what ever happened to you. As your head plunges beneath the sanguine waves one final time, look back at the glorious Big Murray Cod, now no more than a speck in the distance, and think, "It was all worth it."

  • The Big Eagle, Mt Alfred, Vic

    The Big Wedge-Tailed Eagle, Mount Alfred, Victoria

    Hey hey hey, good old Big Eagle Rock’s here to stay
    I’m just crazy ’bout his wings – so smooth
    Doin’ the Big Eagle Rock
    Oh oh oh, don’t drive past, he’s nicer than a crow
    I’m just crazy ’bout his wings – so smooth
    Doin’ the Big Eagle Rock

    Watch out, there’s a hat thief about! This enormous Wedge-Tailed Eagle soars through the skies of northern Victoria, on a tireless mission to pluck the bonnets off unsuspecting visitors.

    But even if you get away with your fedora or Akubra, he’s sure to steal something else – your heart.

    Hats off to the abs-birdly talon-ted Benjamin Gilbert and his team at Agency of Sculpture (the Big Acorns, Bogong Moth and Yabbie), this pleasant passerine was able to take up residence at the delightful Mount Alfred Gap Lookout in 2019.

    The site offers eagle-eye views of beautiful buttes and bubbling brooks, and the chance to watch real-life eagles plucking rabbits from the meadows, carrying them to great heights, and then dropping them to their doom.

    It’s not all been beer and skittles, though. In a disturbing reversal of fortune, the Eagle’s steel hat was stolen by a heartless thug in 2019. Hopefully when the police find this career criminal, he’s strung up and left for birds to peck out his eyes.

    This is certainly not the first Big Wedgie I’ve encountered, as I was often on the receiving end of a severe pants-pulling from my peers (and several of the more boisterous teachers) during my younger years.

    Yeah, but where are those bullies now? Alright, a few of them have gone on to raise families and have successful careers, and one served as the Federal Transport Minister for several years, but they’re not Australia’s leading historian on Big Things, are they?

  • The Big Rainbow Trout, Harrietville, Vic

    The Big Rainbow Trout, Harrietville, Victoria

    Yibbida yibbida, this is fishing expert and notorious philanderer Rex Bardot, on the hunt for the Big Rainbow Trout! And look, there she is, out front of Mountain Fresh Trout & Salmon Farm. Trust me, folks, it doesn’t get any better than this!

    If she looks familiar, that’s because the Big Rainbow Trout was the star attraction of the 2006 Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony in Melbourne (an event I was forcibly removed from after making inappropriate comments towards several female athletes and getting my lights punched out by the Belize women’s weightlifting squad).

    Representing Cyprus, the Big Rainbow Trout was one of 72 humongous fish that swam around the MCG, symbolising the countries of the Commonwealth. They swiftly splashed their way into the hearts of a generation, much as Matilda the Kangaroo had in 1982.

    I was kicked out of that ceremony for an act of depravity, too, but the less said about it the better. Yibbida yibbida!

    My good mate Ian Thorpe, who went on to win a dizzying seven gold medals at the event, later thanked the Big Rainbow Trout and her ilk for inspiring him to success. The various aquatic vertebrates have been scattered across the length and breadth of Victoria, so grab some lemon juice, a tub of tartar sauce and track ’em down. Yibbida yibbida!

    Rex Bardot’s Fishing Misadventures

    The Big Rainbow Trout was looking pretty bloody good when we caught up so, after offering a hearty ‘Yibbida yibbida’ and a tip of my cap, I leant in for a non-consensual smooch. What started as a peck soon became a wanton display of affection that even the French would be disgusted by.

    As things rapidly proceeded towards M-rated territory and I began to remove my fishing tunic, a farmhand with a broom trotted over and chased me from the property. My boundless enthusiasm for perversion could not, however, be abated, and I sequestered myself to Bright to explore the local Thai massage parlours.

    The good people of Harrietville banded together to run me out of town, and the hate-filled mob warned me in no uncertain terms that I was not to visit any of Australia’s many fshy Big Things ever again. Not the Big Clownfish, the Big Murray Cod or the ever-amorous Big Octopus.

    “Yibbida yibbida!” I cried. “What about the other Big Trout, in Adaminaby?”
    “Definitely not the other Big Trout, in Adaminaby!” they shouted, before poking me with their pitchforks.

    They’ll soon learn what countless innocent young ladies already have – that Rex Bardot doesn’t take no for an answer.

    Yibbida yibbida!

    Please note: This entry was written ‘in character’ as a spoof of troubled celebrity fisherman Rex Hunt. I did not – and never would – kiss one of our wondrous Big Things against his, her or their wishes. I have also never ventured inside a massage parlour, Thai or otherwise, as I’m not overly fond of human contact.

  • The Big Octopus, Lakes Entrance, Vic

    The Big Octopus, lakes Entrance, Victoria

    “The Big Octopus’s Garden”

    I’d like to be
    Right by the sea
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    Wearing suede

    He’d let me in
    To see his collection
    Of shells and coral and even
    A model railway

    I’d ask my friends
    To come and see
    The Griffith’s Sea Shell Museum
    With me

    I’d like to dance
    Through Lakes Entrance
    To the Big Octopus’s garden
    Without my pants

    His cuddles have charms
    Because he has eight arms
    After admiring him for hours
    There’ll be romance

    Kissing his bulbous head
    Dreaming of being wed
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    He really enchants

    We would sing
    And wave our limbs around
    Because we know
    That our love abounds

    I’d like to be
    A few hundred metres from the sea
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    My love won’t fade

    We would shout
    And wiggle our suckers about
    Our relationship has no lies
    Beneath the waves

    Oh what joy
    For this mollusc and boy
    Knowing we’re happy
    And we’re safe

    We would be so happy
    ‘pus and Biggie
    No one there to tell us
    That an oversized recreation of a cephalopod and a 38-year-old man can’t have a meaningful relationship

    I’d like to be
    Just over the Cunninghame Arm Foot Bridge from the sea
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    With my boo

    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    With my boo
    Unfortunately the Big Octopus
    Just did a poo

  • The Big Clownfish, Lakes Entrance, Vic

    The Big Clownfish, Lakes Entrance, Victoria

    Ladies and jellyfish, barras and gilas, pilchards of all ages. Please welcome the mystical, magical, great Big Clownfish! Bright and beautiful, this silly sausage is trapezy to find outside Lakes Caravilla Caravan Park, and you’ll feel like a bozo if you pass him by.

    He’s certainly hard to fish – I mean miss – because the tropical delight is right beside the main road into town. You might find this hard to swallow, but it’s even possible to clamber inside his stunning smile

    Yes, he’s handsome, but don’t tell the Clownfish that, because he’ll think you’re just fishing for compliments!

    This happy chappy was the clowning achievement of one George Holding, and served as the fish de résistance of the 1976 Moomba parade in Melbourne. The Clownfish then spent the next decade or so swimming up and down the picturesque boulevards of Lakes Entrance – also home to the Big Octopus – as the star attraction of various festivals and celebr-oceans.

    The Big Clownfish found his forever home in 1987, when then-owner of Lakes Caravilla, Darlene Freeman, aqua-red him from the local Chamber of Commerce. She then fin-stalled the cute clown out the front of her business to bring joy to the community, which was a nice jester.

    This clown ain’t big enough for the both of us. Oh wait, yes he is!

    I’ve struggled with acute coulrophobia since an unsavoury encounter with a Ronald McDonald impersonator during my formative years, so was gill-ty of feeling apprehensive as I climbed betwixt his insatiable lips.

    It was no laughing matter, however, when I discovered this Clown not only looks funny, he smells funny too. Sadly it seemed some joker had urinated within the cavernous bowels of this scaly scamp.

    After taking another dozen or so photos – most of which were super cute – I burst from the Clownfish’s maw like Jonah from the Whale, and proceeded straight to the local constabulary to report this fish-graceful offence.

    Honestly, a lengthy prison sentence is too good for any cretin who would befoul a Big Thing’s luscious mouth. Let the scallywag sleep with the fishes, I say – and not in the good way!

    Ultimately, I had a big top day out. Now, orange ya glad I told you about the Big Clownfish?

  • Pat the Dog, Yarragon, Vic

    Ladies and tramps, please put your claws together for a pup-standing citizen with a paws-itive attitude – Pat the Dog and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat!

    Perky Pat patrols the perimeter of picturesque Yarragon Railway Station, and is a welcome sight for those returning home after bark on a poochoo train. The two-metre-tall, 500-kilogram mutt was the passion project of the Baw Baw Arts Alliance, and hound his forever home in 2021.

    The fetching fellow is covered in the most magnificent mosaic motifs, so get ready to do as his name suggests and pat this dog – he doesn’t bite!

    Mosaic-y Breaky Heart

    The process of bringing Pat to life was led by Yarragon locals Jessie Mclennan and Janet ‘Wet’ Wyllie, who doggedly fought for funding. They originally wanted to build a water fountain dedicated to mosaic maestro Maery Gabriel, but decided to go for an enormous poodle instead.

    Fur what it’s worth, I reckon they made the right choice!

    Jessie lab-ricated a scale model of Pat, which was scanned into a high-tech computer. This was used to create styrofoam pieces that were glued together to form Pat’s perky paw-sture, then shaved into shape. He was then slathered in kerabond and isolastic, which are either fancy waterproofing elixirs or popular rappers.

    Eight or ca-nine artistes attached Pat’s thousands of coloured glass tiles, although I’ll never understand howl they did it! The end result was a very dog-nified Big Thing that was revealed to rapturous applause on August 6, 2021.

    I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the gorgeous plinth that Pat sits atop. It weighs half a tonne and features another salubrious mosaic pattern.

    If you’d like to show your appreciation, drop into the adjoining art gallery to make a small dalmatian to their cause.

    It’s a Dog’s Life

    Pat isn’t a square pug in a round hole, because there are several mosaic marvels around. Darwin’s Colin the Turtle and Big Barramundi are similarly decorated and sure to make you tile. He’s also not the only fur-baby to be hound, with the Big Golden Dog lighting up hearts in Glenreagh.

    Pat’s quickly become Yarragon’s most famous resident, meaning he attracts plenty of pup-arazzi. Or maybe they were just there for Bigs Bardot and his chum Gordon! Sure, my responsibly-sourced tunic was nothing compared to Pat’s outfit, but I had no reason to be melan-collie, because he’s absolutely paw-some!

  • Bruno the Big Pheasant, Tynong North, Vic

    Bruno the Big Pheasant, Tynong North, Victoria

    Forever stylin’ and profilin’, Bruno the Big Pheasant has been sauntering around rural Gippsland for decades. But this colourful character is more like a phoenix, having survived a terrorist attack and come out the other side looking better than ever.

    During a dark and stormy night October 2011, a deranged terrorist stormed into Bruno’s enclosure and, with hatred in his heart, approached the enormous bird. The thug dumped a homemade bomb at Brono’s feet and escaped into the darkness. Tick, tock, tick, tock. In the distance, a kookaburra cackled. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

    The midnight sky lit up like midday. Fickle fingers of flame reached in all directions. Then the sound and the shrapnel – like a thousand realities colliding – ripped through the landscape, plucking birds from their nests and sending children hurtling into their mothers’ arms.

    And then, silence.

    When the debris finally settled and the people of Tynong gathered as one in front of Bruno, they realised the world as they knew it was no more. The photogenic pheasant had sustained more than $50,000 worth of damage to his rear, and many wondered whether his tail would ever be the same again.

    Clear and Pheasant Danger

    Bruno can be found strutting his stuff outside the Gumbuya World fun park, which offers waterslides, animal exhibits, and other attractions that I was never able to enjoy as a youngster. The park was built on the site of an old pheasant farm so, when owner Ron Rado decided he needed something BIG to promote his investment, there was only one thing to do.

    He tapped local legend Bruno Crestani to craft the 16.8- metre-long, 7.6-metre-tall golden pheasant. The friendly fowl was made from five tonnes of concrete set over a steel frame, and was revealed to a curious public in December 1981.

    They were, of course, pheasantly surprised.

    Bizarrely, Big Bruno wasn’t named after his creator until 2021, when the park ran a hotly-contested competition to find a new moniker for the majestic merrymaker. Suggested names included Kuryana, Goldy and the imaginative Carlos Pheasantana.

    My suggestion, Donald Pheasants, was met with widespread praise but was ultimately discarded for being too controversial.

    He is happiest, be he king or pheasant, who finds peace in his home

    Bruno’s tale is as long and vivid as his tail. He’s recently been renovated as part of Gumbuya World’s revamp, and it’s easy to see him without shelling out for a (rather cheap) ticket into the park. It’s for the best, because my alien companion Gordon Shumway was banned for life after an unsavoury incident on the Tiger Snake Tango slide a few years ago.

    Big Brono’s nice and close to Arthur Sprout, Pat the Dog and the Big Spuds and Forks. At pheasant, however, he’s the biggest and brightest Big in the region. He’s also good chums with fellow well-dressed avians the Big Kookaburra and the Big Parrot.

    Bruno’s certainly peck-tacular, so don’t be a turkey and just fly by!

  • Lord Hanuman, Batu Caves, Malaysia

    Lord Hanuman, Batu Caves, Malaysia

    He’s chimp-ly irresistible! This 15-metre-tail repro-douc-tion of the Hindu monkey god Lord Hanuman sits on primate real estate in front of the Batu Caves, and promises a gorill-a-minute experience – but that’s a gibbon!

    You may have ape expectations for this marmoset-piece, and I’m happy to lesusa-nnounce he’s a total babe-oon, from his simian-kles to his capu-chin. He’s also a very urakaring individual. They just don’t macaque them like this anymore.

    I can take it no langur! Lord Hanuman is tamarin-credible, and I rhesus-pect you’ll find him just as titi-lating as I did. He’s ex-saki-ly the sort of orangutan-tilising fellow who leaves you begging for le-mur. I don’t bo-know-bo how I ever lived without him.

    Lord Hanuman, quite obviously, has the mon-key to my heart. OMG – probosc-is it getting hot in here?

    OK, some of these jokes have been howlers, but you should know the mandrill by now!

  • Mammoth and Baby Mammoth, Nadym, Russia

    Mammoth and Baby Mammoth, Nadym, Russia

    My unquenchable thirst for Big Things has taken me to some of the most beautiful and wondrous places on earth. It also dragged me through the frozen wastelands of northern Siberia, to the decaying industrial town of Nadym.

    I was lured to this remote corner of Russia by fellow Big Thing enthusiast Yevgeny Kafelnikov. No, not the world famous tennis player – every second Russian seems to be called that. Yevgeny enchanted me with tales about a mammoth of immense size, so I spent several months hitchhiking through the desolate tundra to track it down.

    If you’ve ever seen a Russian dashcam video on YouTube, you’d know that I really should’ve just caught a plane. I was involved in three fatal car accidents, several brutal street fights, and developed a serious addiction to vodka and counterfeit Adidas tracksuits. If I’d been on the road any longer I would’ve started yearning for the downfall of western civilisation.

    Sadly, by the time I arrived in Nadym, Yevgeny had fallen afoul of the local mafia. Considering his divisive opinions regarding roadside attractions, it came as no surprise. Fortunately, I was able to stay with his grieving widow, so Yevgeny’s public beheading didn’t get in the way of seeing the Big Mammoth.

    From Tusk Till Dawn

    I visited on a balmy summer afternoon, as the temperature threatened to climb out of the negatives. The flat, lifeless terrain, punctuated only by the odd car wreck or abandoned shanty, made it easy to find what I was looking for. The massive mastodon lives a few kilometres out of Nadym, where a group of her ancestors were discovered a few decades ago.

    I never completed my paleontology degree, so I don’t know for sure what killed these graceful beasts, but my guess would be the boredom of living in Nadym. They certainly got the raw end of the stick compared to the mighty milodón!

    Tears of joy froze upon my cheeks as I finally approached my holy grail. Along with her baby, the hirsute hottie is the size of a real mammoth. If you think that disqualifies them from being regarded as Big Things, I know some Russian skinheads who want to have a word with you.

    Of particular note is the mummy mammoth’s titanic tusks – she would’ve needed a really big toothbrush! More than 100 political prisoners died during the monument’s construction, so it’s nice to know their deaths weren’t in vain.

    Despite their detailed craftmanship and enviable size, the mammoths can’t really be considered roadside attractions. The nearest town is 10 hours’ drive away so there’s little passing traffic, and any car that slows down risks being burnt out by a gang of troubled youths.

    You can’t pull the wool over my eyes! Actually, you can…

    During my visit I encountered a young boy named Yevgeny Kafelnikov (again, not the tennis player) who offered to photograph me with the mammoths. I thought it was a kind-hearted exhibition of man’s kindness to man, until I realised it had all been a ruse so that his chums could steal my iPod. Oh well, boys, hope you like Shania Twain.

    After a glorious afternoon with the mammoths, I filled my backpack with cheap vodka and set off on my months-long trek back to Moscow. I would’ve stayed longer, but Nadym made the possibility of freezing to death or getting bopped over the head with an iron bar seem like pretty appealing options.

    As I crossed the River Nadym, its oily surface shimmering like a dying rainbow, I wondered whether it was all worth it. The confronting journey gave me time to reflect on the fact that I’m much like the mammoth. A graceful relic of a bygone era, loved and feared in equal measure.

    A few weeks after I left, local children discovered my friend Yevgeny’s remains out near the mammoths. I think he would have liked that.

  • The Big Koalas, Salt Ash, NSW

    The Big Koalas, Salt Ash, New South Wales

    Koalas aren’t endangered in scenic Port Stephens, with a pair of massive marsupials lazing about beside the main road into town. The Big Koalas fiercely guard the entrance to Oakvale Wildlife Park, where visitors kan kuddle a kangaroo or kiss an ekidna.

    All those animals are regular-sized, though, so who cares.

    Known as Blinky and Bill, these silver studs are around 150 centimetres tall. Not massive by Big Thing standards, of course – not even as large as Doonside’s version – but pretty big all the same. You certainly wouldn’t want a burly gang of koalas this size turning up at your front door to steal your eucalyptus leaves.

    Both are e-koaly beautiful and easy to spot, living abreast a set of billboards. These signs are quickly becoming more famous than that one over in Hollywood, earning Salt Ash the nickname of koaLa-La Land.

    There are plenty of celebrities around, with the Big Red Bug, Big Peach and the Shoal Bay Whale all living in the area. All deserve a star on the Big Thing Walk of Fame.

    Sadly, one of these Big Koalas suffers from chlamydia. Try to guess which one!

  • Queany the Platypus, Queanbeyan, NSW

    Queany the Platypus, Queanbeyan, New South Wales

    Please rise for Her Royal Wetness, Queany the Platypus! The 500kg mammalian monarch rests regally by the Queanbeyan River, ruling the hearts of locals with a strong yet webbed fist.

    Queany is the crowning achievement of Neil Dickinson and ascended to the throne in 2016. She was designed to put Queanbeyan – which has long stood in Canberra’s shadow – on the map. She’s certainly made that platypossible!

    “We were originally going to do something quite modest and it just developed,” Dicko told a fascinated reporter from the ABC. “Platypus are in the river here, so it was quite exciting.”

    I don’t know the bill for Queany’s construction, but I’m sure it was mono-ex-tremely reasonable. Hopefully Dicko gets royalties from her success.

    Queany has a massive personality that belies her compact proportions. Whilst much bigger than a real-life platypus, she’s only the size of a large dog and would struggle to climb upon the nearby Giant Chair. Ah, now her Napoleon complex makes sense!

    Despite presenting herself as a strong, independent woman, this ravishing royal seems to be forever looking for her King. She enjoyed a whirlwind romance with Morty the Snail, sending the notoriously rabid Queanbeyan paparazzi into a spin, but the two decided they were better off as friends.

    It’s probably for the best. We all saw what happened when Prince Harry shacked up with a commoner, and they’re the same species.

    I could gush over Queany forever, but I’d be splashing into platytudes!

  • Morty the Snail, Queanbeyan, NSW

    Morty the Snail, Queanbeyan, New South Wales

    Don’t be sluggish if you want to see the world’s largest snail, just escar-go to beautiful Queanbeyan. There you’ll find shy, reclusive Morty hiding in the town’s sensory garden. And despite his relaxed demeanour, he’s fast becoming a local legend!

    Artist Neil Dickinson has worked wonders on this sheepish slowpoke. Morty’s handsome head is quirky and exotic, yet cheerful and comforting. He is at once so shocking enough to stop passersby in their tracks, and completely at one with the lovingly-maintained gardens. He’s even snailor-made for sitting on, so giddy-up for a fun photo!

    Morty – named after his home at Ray Morton Park – cost just $10,000 to bring into this world. That leaves me to moll-ask myself why there aren’t more supersized snails around.

    Queanbeyan Council must agree with me, because Queany the Platypus lives right around the corner from Morty. The Googong Giant Chair isn’t far away, either, and I recommend you go and seat it!

    Spend enough slime with Morty and he really comes out of his shell, proving to be a charming and – at times – roguish gent. And, like all of us, this bashful Big is eternally chasing true love… just at a more sedate pace than some!

    “Morty is a modest chap, he just needs to be loved,” Neil told a pencil-pusher from the Queanbeyan Age. “He’s a nice fellow, quite lovely and I hope everyone embraces him and he becomes part of the landscape.

    “We were looking to create something that was connected to the sensory garden. We started off with an organic, abstract, shell-like form and it just evolved from there. “The response has been overwhelming. It’s good, very positive.”

    I reckon you snailed it, mate!

  • The Big Teapot, Leura, NSW

    The Big Teapot, Leura, New South Wales

    I’m a handsome teapot
    There’s no doubt
    Here is my handle, here is my spout
    When I find a Big Thing
    Then I shout
    Stop the car and let me out!

    Although I’m not one to spill the tea, I must say that this ‘pot is really brew-tiful! You can find her in front of Bygone Beautys, which houses the world’s largest private teapot collection.

    There are more than 5,500 regular-sized jugs inside, from around the world and across the centuries. None, however, are as breathtaking as the tea-lightful Big Thing outside.

    Just look at that bunny perched on top of the ‘pot! The whimsical wabbit is straight out of Alice in Wonderland, and recalls the innocence and curiosity of youth. And don’t worry, he won’t be late for a very important date with your heart!

    The whole complex is straight out of a fairy tale. Resting peacefully in a tree-lined street in the majestic mountain village of Leura, Bygone Beautys is only minutes from magnificent lookouts. There’s nowhere more inviting on a frosty winter’s afternoon.

    The museum serves a scrumptious range of teas, sandwiches and deserts to please all palates. I allowed myself a moment of decadence by wallowing in the rich tapestry of a cup of Turkish Apple Infusion tea and a generous serving of bread and butter pudding with whipped cream.

    It probably went straight to my hips but, then again, you only live once.

    The theatrical service so enthralled me that I managed to stop peeking out the window at the Big Teapot every five minutes. I even considered treating myself to the famous apple pie, but then realised such an action would likely upset a nearby Big Thing.

    Even though the skies were a little Earl Grey when I visited, I couldn’t miss the opportuni-tea to see this prodigious ‘pot. Don’t kettle for second best!

  • The Big Thorny Devil, Acton, ACT

    The Big Thorny Devil, Acton, Australian Capital Territory

    Canberra’s home to many hideous, cold-blooded monsters, but I’m not here to talk politics. No, my dear readers, I want to let you know I’ve sold my soul to the devil – the Big Thorny Devil!

    This three-metre-long lizard of Oz is a fine recreation of the real-life beasties, who call the outback home. They’re a mere 21cm from rugged head to spiny tail, and look like something out of a fever dream.

    Along with a collection of razor-sharp spikes, each devil also has a fake head growing out of his or her neck. Not only does it serve as a decoy to predators, but allows them to blend in with Tasmanians.

    The super-sized centralian is the centre of attention at the Red Centre exhibit, which is centrally located in the National Botanic Gardens. A spike-able chap, he pranced into town in 2013 and has been setting hearts aflame with his striking looks and cheeky disposition ever since.

    I had a devil of a time finding this thorny lothario, because he lives all the way up the back of the Gardens. Perhaps someone in his family was a chameleon? The thrilling mixture of rainforests, rocky outcrops and cafes, however, proved to be a welcome distraction. There are even a few other statues of large creatures – I especially enjoyed the frog! – but none that qualify as Big Things.

    Don’t break down in tears, though, because the Big Acorns and Big Bogong Moths are within scurrying distance.

    Thorn To Be Wild

    Although he’s no taller than a toddler, the Big Thorny Devil stands head and shoulders above most Bigs in regards to craftmanship. He’s absolutely exquisite, and wouldn’t look out of place at the National Gallery. I can think of seven pear-ly large chaps who might have a problem with that, however!

    The devil is in the details, of which there are many thanks to the Big Thing legends at Natureworks, who are also responsible for another renowned reptile – Somersby’s Frilly. If you’d like your own Thorny Devil to snuggle up to, the good news is they actually sell replicas. I’ll try to act surprised if one turns up in my Santa stocking!

    Don’t bother skink-ing about it, take a squiz at this giant liz!

  • The Big Koala, Doonside, NSW

    The Big Koala, Doonside, New South Wales, Australia

    What’s cute, cuddly, and widely beloved despite being considered daggy by zoomers? These three guys right here! Sardonic alien Gordon Shumway joined me on this visit to Featherdale Wildlife Park, where we met the un-bear-ably handsome Big Koala.

    He’s not the biggest arboreal herbivorous marsupial around – that distinction goes to the Giant Koala in Dadswells Bridge, Victoria. But he’s 1.5 metres tall and made from high-koalaty materials, so I think he koalafies. Honestly, would you like to have a furr-ocious fellow that size slowly following you? Didn’t think so!

    As a tiny zoo swamped by the endless banality of suburbia, Featherdale is a throwback to a more innocent time. The Big Koala fits in well, because he’s simple and homely. I assume he arrived around 1972, when the park opened, making him one of Australia’s oldest Bigs. There have been numerous attempts to turn the park into housing, but the locals fought against its claws-ure.

    The Big Koala’s pouch-standing popularity proved inspirational to many nearby businesses. The Big Chook, Big Axe and Big Roller Skate are all within a short gallop.

    Dozens of world-famous celebs such as Leo DiCaprio, Bobby De Niro, Fatty Vautin, and the irresistible Taylor Lautner have spent time with the Big Koala. I saw the manager taking down Gwen Stefani’s photo to make room for this happy snap of Gordon and I. Unfortunately Ko-Ali G, Leaf Cassidy and pop group U-calyptus 2 haven’t visited yet.

    Featherdale is also home to quokkas, crocs, kangaroos and penguins. It’s possible to take a selfie with them, but why bother when there’s an awesome Big out the front? And sorry, ladies, but the little furry alien was a one-time deal ?

    The three of us had a mar-super-ial time together. We even enjoyed a piña koala or two!

  • George the Big Crocodile, Darwin, NT

    You don’t need to leave the Land of the Bigs to have a memorable encounter in the African wilderness. Just pop over to the Botanic Gardens in sunny Darwin, where a monstrous metallic maneater meanders through the Madagascan-modelled meadows. Mmmmm… marvellous!

    Surrounded by breathtaking baobabs and bubbling brooks, Gorgeous George delights with his size and looks. The 10-metre-long lizard was cast from steel by local legend Techy Masero, the artiste responsible for Colin the Turtle and the Big Barra, under the watchful eye of world-famous wildlife wizard Tommy Nichols. It truly does take a village to raise a colossal crocodilian.

    After five wonderful years of hard work, George was dipped in a vat of zinc (in a scene I can only assume was reminiscent of the ending of Terminator 2: Judgment Day) and hauled off to his forever home in April 2020. I’ll go out on a limb and say nobody leaves the Gardens jabbering on about the heliconias and orchids anymore – although they are delightful.

    Always smile at this crocodile!

    I’ve had encounters with the most beautiful Bigs ever made, but was reduced to a blubbering mess upon meeting George, so beautiful was he. Thousands of hours went into his intricately-detailed features, and it certainly shows. I was particularly impressed by the oversized barramundi he has tucked between his titillating teeth. Fortunately George didn’t snatch the Wanguri or Katherine barras for his lunch!

    As I struggled to catch my breath, a couple of the Gardens’ friendly horticulturists assisted me to a bench beneath a nearby weeping willow, where I was able to regain my composure before resuming my date with George. He lives in a quiet patch of the park, beneath a huge tree, but of course he attracts a lot of attention. Move over George Clooney and Boy George, we have a bigger celebrity here!

    I strongly urge visitors not to climb upon Bigs they don’t have a strong and trusting relationship with – it’s a hate crime as far as I’m concerned – but George made it clear to me that he’s open to being mounted, so I made the most of the opportunity. Despite hardly being a ‘waxhead’, I a surf on George’s handsome head. Hang 10-metre-long crocodile, dudes!

    There’s no doubt about it, George is a real croc star!

  • Nala the Big Whale, Hervey Bay, QLD

    She’s a sexy humpback
    Them other Bigs don’t know how to act
    I think she’s special, what a large humpback!
    Go visit Nala and don’t forget a snack

    Have a whale of a time and a blowhole lot of fun with Nala, the 22-tonne pride of Hervey Bay! The town is one of the best places on Earth for whale watching, but now you don’t need to risk a bout of sea sickness to admire a massive mammal.

    Nala was introduced to the communi-sea in 2012 to much finfare, with hundreds of whale-wishers blubbering with delight at her grand un-whaling. She’s a heartfelt tribute to her namesake, a much-loved whale who’s visited the region every year since 1992.

    The big bopper has to be marine to be believed, and wouldn’t look out of place at the Louvre or Guggenheim museums – if she’d fit! Just look at those intricate wooden details and all that shiny metal! I almost felt like I should’ve worn a tuxedo for our date!

    Ross Bradbury built the 11.5 metre-long, 8.3 metre-tall leviathan out of ironbark timber and stainless steel, and reckons he spent more than 250 hours on the carving alone. He’s also the virtuoso behind Nala’s son Nolan, a smaller whale who lives at the neighbouring WetSide Water Park.

    “I feel really lucky to be a part of it,” Ross whaled to a bemused journo from the Courier Whale… oh, sorry, the Courier Mail.

    Whales and Pelicans and Criminals… Oh My!

    The Queen of the Fraser Coast is just one of many Big Things in the region, with fellow water-dwellers Pete the Pelican and the Big Shell to the south, boozy buddies the Big Rum Bottle and Darrel the Barrel to the north, and the legendary Matilda a short drive inland. The suave and handsome Big Ned Kelly – often rumoured to be a suitor of Nala – is shacked up at nearby Maryborough.

    If you’re planning to get spout-and-about, the good news is you don’t have to pay to see Nala – that’s right, a visit is free, Willy!

    Many thanks to local fisherman and lifelong Big Thing admirer Dickie Ham, who acted as my tour guide. He’s a perfect gentleman and quite the twinkle toes. Who would’ve though Hervey Bay would have such a vibrant salsa scene?

  • The Big Bulls, Rockhampton, QLD

    The Big Bulls, Rockhampton, Queensland

    For an unforgetta-bull experience, head to Rocky, where you’ll find multi-bull bulky bovines on display. All six Big Bulls have moo-vie star good looks and would love to meat you, so it’d be a mi-steak to miss them!

    The first two Bulls – a Braford by the Bruce Highway and a Brahman located on the main median strip in town – were con-chuck-ted in 1978 as a way to beef up tourism. They were designed by Hugh Granderson… sorry, Anderson, the legend behind the Big Cow, and the townsfolk were very shankful to have them.

    Udder-standably they proved so irresisti-bull that they were joined by a Santa Gertrudis in Frank Ford Park in 1985, and a Droughtmaster at the entrance to the airport in 1994. Rookie error, Rocky Council – if there’s a Big Thing by the airport, people will never want to leave!

    Public demand saw the Fab Four joined by a Romangnola, located in O’Shannesy Park, in 1997, and another Brahman – known as Forrest Rump – swaggered into Rockhampton in 2000 and set up camp at the roundabout on the southern entrance to the city. It sounds like a cock-and-bull story, but it’s true!

    Although they seem like typically ‘ocker’ fellas, the boys do, in fact, have an American cousin. Chromey, a bison of epic proportions, lives in Colorado. Say buff-hello to him if you’re nearby.

    I had plenty of fun exploring the sultry city of Rocky, which straddles the Tropic of Capri-horn, seeking out the Big Bulls. Sure, they’re not enormous, but they’re all very handsome and their sheer number makes them a must-see. But I guess you’ve already herd that!

    Please leave their balls alone!

    Unfortunately they also attract the dregs of society, with local troublemakers finding amusement in stealing the Bulls’ bulbous balls. This behaviour is reprehensi-bull, but we can console ourselves with the knowledge these ruffians will probably spend the rest of their lives in prison where there are few, if any, Big Things.

    It was my displeasure to meet one of these deranged imbeciles in the form of a Portuguese backpacker named António. Whilst seemingly gorgeous and charming at first glance, this pervert showed his true colours by stripping off in front of the Bulls and gyrating provocatively for photos. Dispica-bull!

    Thankfully a hurried call the the local consta-bull-ary saw António deported for his outrageous display of disrespect, and he’s Portugal’s problem now. I’ve spoken with Australian Immigration Minister and Big Thing sympathiser Alex Hawke at length about the situation, and he has assured me that António’s been banned from Australia for-heifer.

    Sorry to turn this into the punning of the bulls with all these terri-bull jokes!

  • Daryl Somersby the Croc, Somersby, NSW

    Daryl Somersby the Crocodile, Somersby, New South Wales

    Never smile at Daryl the Crocodile
    No, don’t get friendly with Daryl the Crocodile
    Don’t be taken in by his games and lark
    Or the fact he lives at the Aussie Reptile Park

    Never smile at Daryl the Crocodile
    Never kiss his handsome head and stop to talk awhile
    Never listen to his hopes and dreams
    Of gobbling up six football teams

    You may very well lose your body
    Just up the road from Frilly and Ploddy
    But there’s always a special time and place
    To look at that rugged, whimsical face
    And say, “I don’t care if he eats me, we just have to kiss!”
    Daryl’s one Big that you just can’t miss!

  • Matilda the Kangaroo, Traveston, QLD

    Tilly bounced her way into our hearts during the 1982 Commonwealth Games, taking centre stage at the opening ceremony in front of 50,000 enamoured fans. The cute kangaroo flirted with the crowd, winking her long lashes and swivelling her perfectly-proportioned head as a forklift flittered her around the track.

    The world drew breath as one when the voluptuous Matilda lingered in front of the Duke of Edinburgh for an extended moment and their eyes locked. Time stood still as we hoped and dreamed that this most unlikely relationship might take its first, tentative steps.

    The silence, however, was broken when dozens of excited kiddies dressed as joeys poured out of Matilda’s massive pouch and jumped around on trampolines as Rolf Harris belted out the timeless classic Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport. It was a moment no Australian will ever forget.

    I was one of those joeys, and I’ve never felt as alive as I did whilst crouched in the belly of that 13-metre-tall marsupial. I cherish my grainy first photo with Tilly, and my memories of playing with Rolf’s wobble board. After that magical afternoon our lives took such different paths – Rolf as a much-loved singer, me as Australia’s foremost expert in Big Things, and Tilly as a hero to Queenslanders of all ages.

    Bounding into retirement

    Following the Games she took pride of place at Cade’s County Waterpark on the Gold Coast, where she kept a watchful eye over swimmers until being dismantled in the mid-2000s. She lay sad and alone in a field until 2009, when the happy chappies from Puma Energy resurrected her as the mascot for their new chain of service stations.

    Though she originally hoped to live in Tugan on the Gold Coast’s glitter strip, Tilly settled for a quieter life in Kybong after planning approval fell through. It’s probably for the best, because I would’ve hated to see her with collagen lips and a fake tan!

    Tilly’s just as beautiful as ever and is in a great location for photos and hugs. She’s an inspiration for other former parade floats such as Buffy and Pete, but the service station she called home until recently had been bypassed by the Bruce Highway and fallen into disrepair. On my recent visit, a dog chased me – and he wasn’t as friendly as his golden relative down south! Fortunately Tilly’s no stranger to a life on the road, and was recently roo-located to the new super servo along the road. Phew!

    How much is that Tilly in the window?

    I’m not sure whether there are any Matilda souvenirs at her new home, but you might be able to buy something much better. No, not a tea towel – a nine-metre-tall replica of the lovely kangaroo from Natureworks in Highvale, Queensland! Slightly slimmer than the busty original, she can also turn her head and wink. There were plans to place replica kangaroos at hundreds of Matilda service stations around the country, but financial strife scuttled that and only one was ever built. My birthday’s coming up, in case my admirers want to pitch in for a present…

    Sexy, sassy, survivor. From packed stadiums to water slides to abandoned petrol stations, Matilda has lived a remarkable life with the sort of class and grace others can only dream of. She’s every bit as seductive as the day we fell in love with her 39 years ago, and I wish her much hoppy-ness in the future.

    Please note; since writing this article, it’s been brought to my attention that Rolf Harris has been convicted of serious crimes and is currently incarcerated. Whilst I’ll always love his music and consider him to be a visionary, Matilda and I have decided to remove Rolf from our WhatsApp group.

    Please note 2; apparently Rolf has died, so let’s all just move on.

  • The Big Snake, Ayr, QLD

    Gabulla Munda, Ayr, Queensland, Australia

    There was a time, long before the age of man, when enormous creatures roamed the wasteland we now call Australia. From Tiddalick the Frog to Biladurang the Platypus, these behemoths filled the rivers with water, shaped the mountain ranges, and cast the stars into the sky. Dreamtime stories, passed down through a thousand generations, keep the history of our homeland alive.

    Gubulla Munda, a carpet snake of epic proportions, has been the protector of the Birri-Gubba people of North Queensland for millennia. Now he looks after the rest of us, too! This 60-metre-long totem was built in his honour in 2004, having been designed by local indigenous artists.

    You’re unlikely to find a longer or lovelier Big Thing, or one with so much hisssss-tory behind him. I’ve met hundreds of Bigs around the world, but the sheer size of this gentleman brought me to my knees. Ironic, seeing as he doesn’t have any!

    Gubulla looks absolutely wonderful, is well cared for and regularly repainted. The snake offers so many options for fun photos, because his friends are welcome to climb all over him. Just be respectful, not only because he’s a Big, but because of the cultural implications.

    Love is in the Ayr

    The Big Snake lives in a particularly happy corner of Queensland, which is full of good viper-ations. This cobra is a cutie and subsequently snakes any journey up north worth it.

    After snapping off some photos, do take time to explore the surrounding Plantation Park before heading off to see the nearby Big Watermelon, Big Pumpkin and Big Sardine Can. The area has long been a sacred site and burial ground for the local indigenous population, and there are a number of commemorative plaques. There’s even a cafe where you can purchase a meat pie-thon.

    An afternoon with Ayr’s Big Snake is time well serpent!

  • The Big Cow, Highfields, QLD

    The Big Cow, Highfields, Queensland, Australia

    Have you heifer herd the udder-ly moo-diculous story about the two-story cow who become a Sunshine Coast icon, fell into a life of depravity, climbed out of the gutter to become a leader of the lost, and eventually retired to a leafy farm near beautiful Toowoomba? Yeah, I know it sounds like a load of bull, but be-hoove yourself because it’s true!

    The Big Cow was calved in 1976 in the rural village of Kulangoor, just down the road from the incredible Big Pineapple. She was the feature attraction of a working dairy farm, where visitors were able to yank a bemused animal’s boobies when not climbing inside the belly of this Big. What a delightful teat!

    Seven times taller than the Ayrshire cows she’s modelled on, the beefy beauty was created by Huge Anderson…. sorry, make that Hugh Anderson. He enjoyed the task so much that he went on to craft the Big Bulls in Rockhampton, so certainly didn’t go into it calf-hearted.

    Put Out To Pasture

    Sadly the farm was abandoned and this bo-vine-looking Big fell into disrepair, much like the Prawn and Ploddy the Dinosaur. The farm was used for a number of purposes, most notably as a halfway house for recovering drug addicts. When I visited in 2017, an aggressive man with a spider tattooed on his forehead offered me a package of illegal drugs. “Sorry,” I told him as I handed over my wallet and shoes, “my only addiction is oversized roadside attractions.”

    Whilst distressed to lose my Video Ezy membership card and collection of Tazos, I had no beef with the lunatic, and was pleased that the withdrawal symptoms from a nasty case of methamphetamine addiction would be somewhat mitigated by the opportunity to admire a giant cow every morning.

    Our friend was soon cow-moo-flaged behind thick bushes, and forgotten in favour of Queensland’s ma-newer Big Things. She was clearly pasture prime and it seemed like this steak was cooked. Thankfully the Big Cow was donated to the happy chappies at Highfields Pioneer Village in 2019, and a few months later was sliced in half (ouch!) and trucked to her new home on the outskirts of beautiful Toowoomba.

    “She had a bit of render fall off, probably from all that salt air on the coast, and some weather has gotten in from those holes,” village secretary Jody Dodds told a gobsmacked journo from the ABC. “She hasn’t had much TLC for a while. We think it will cost around $29,000 to have her back in perfect condition.”

    Cow-abunga, dude!

    A Manure Hope

    On September 20, 2020, the redemption of the legendary Big Cow was complete, when she was unveiled to her hordes of rabid fans in a very moo-ving ceremony. The new owners even re-opened the moo-seum inside the Cow after decades of closure. She’s now calm and relaxed in her tranquil retirement home, and it’s no cow-incidence that attendance at the village has never been higher.

    Alright, I’ve milked this story long enough, but I have a question; since when did cows have horns?

    A quick note; whilst I’ve included a cheeky udder pun in this story, udder infections in dairy cows are a serious problem. They’re painful and potentially fatal if left untreated. I enjoy a giggle as much as anyone, but cows suffering due to unhygienic conditions and lack of adequate medical attention is no laughing matter.

  • Itsy Bitsy the Big Spider, Urana, NSW

    Itsy Bitsy the Big Spider
    Climbed up the water tower
    Down came the rain
    And made the spider cower
    Out came the sun
    And dried up all the rain
    And Itsy Bitsy the Big Spider
    Climbed up the tower again!

    You’d hate to be a fly in the cosy village of Urana, because it’s home to a spider the size of a small car! But don’t be scared, because this aspiring web designer is a charming chap who you absolutely arach-need to meet. In fact, he’s so popular they might have to rename the town Tarant-Urana!

    Despite being a fair way up the tower, Itsy Bitsy is a lot of fun to take photos with and easy to find, living at the end of the main street, next to a small lake with community BBQs. He certainly didn’t mind putting on a tough guy act as I shrieked in terror!

    Itsy Bitsy was created by local artist Andrew Whitehead and revealed in May 2009, taking up residence on the town’s imposing water tower. Made from scrap metal and piping – similar to Murray the Cod – he has eight lovely eyes (doesn’t that make him a spiiiiiiiider?) and loves spinning a yarn. Fittingly, he’s around eight feet tall.

    Brave Andy installed this Big Thing all by himself, which certainly impressed a flabbergasted reporter from the Border Mail. “Mr Whitehead, who is afraid of heights, installed the artwork himself, climbing a 16m ladder then walking around the 30cm rim of the tower carrying an 8kg bracket and 8m of cable,” the breathless report read.

    “Once the bracket and cable were in place a cherry picker raised the spider into position and it was secured with the three cables.”

    Easy Spider

    Thankfully, Andy didn’t build a Daddy Long Legs because Urana’s overrun by bugs; he was in-spidered by the town’s legendary former Aussie Rules team, who were known as the Spiders and surely must’ve played at Webley Stadium.

    Itsy lives reasonably close to his good mates the Big Murray Cod at Tocumwal and the Big Guitar at Narrandera, but thankfully nowhere near Ossie the Mossie, who he’d probably try to eat!

    Today this not-so-creepy crawly is the coolest dude in town and it’s customary for him to appear in wedding photos – newlywebs think he’s the greatest. I’d love to hear more from Itsy Bitsy, so hopefully he’ll launch an arthro-podcast soon!

  • The Big Frogs, Darwin, NT

    Roll out the red carpet, because we’re in the company of some Hollywood bad boys… Ribbet Redford and Dennis Hopper! The amphibian actors squat smugly out the front of the salubrious Ramada Suites, just a hop, skip and jump from Darwin’s waterfront.

    Ribbet and Dennis spawned at the humorously-named Get Stoned Masonry, before re-croak-ating to their current spot when the shop shut. Their identical sisters – the brightly-coloured Sandra Bullfrog and Lillypad Allen – live down the toad at the Territory Wildlife Park in Berry Springs.

    Their current site is an unassuming, but very accessible, home for two superstars. They’re surrounded by shrubs in a quiet street and Dennis, who’s looking worse for wear, has succulent flowers growing out of him. But don’t worry, I didn’t see any Easy Spiders crawling out!

    Despite looking similar, the pair actually have very unique personalities. Ribbet – star of classics such as The Green Gatsby, Charlotte’s Webbed Feet and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Amphibian – is cool, carefree, and a bit of a showboat. Dennis, by comparison, is more intense and eccentric – as seen in his classics Blue Vel-wet and A-frog-alypse Now.

    Both are worthy of a star on the Big Thing Walk of Fame, but are comfortable sharing the slime-light with their hunky cousin, Buffy the Big Cane Toad. They also enjoy staying up all night with their nocturnal neighbour, Chinute Chinute the Big Owl.

    A quick ap-pond-ix; As I was photographing the frogs, Mr Redford made an Indecent Proposal – for me to climb atop him for a hoppy snap! I would’ve loved to spend more time with the long-tongued tough guys, but unfortunately I had other Kermit-ments.

  • The Big Chook, Mount Vernon, NSW

    The Big Chook, Mount Vernon, New South Wales

    What’s chookin’, good lookin’? This king-sized cockerel really is something to crow about, and you’ll have egg on your face if you don’t chick him out!

    A Western Sydney icon for decades, the Chook is an extremely charismatic old-school Big. He looks a bit homemade, like the Big Golden Dog and fellow feather-head the Big Parrot, but that just makes him more relatable.

    He stands proudly outside a wildly popular egg farm named after him, and locals find it almost impossible to drive past without popping in. It’s not just for a photo op with the Chook, because along with an enviable selection of chutneys and jams, the on-site store sells two-and-a half doz-hen eggs for just $4 – and you don’t need a coop-on for that!

    Whilst it’s not possible to cuddle the ravishing rooster because he’s behind a chicken-wire fence, he’s in a great position for a happy snap. Just look at the two of us strutting around together, we really are poultry in motion!

    He’s really plucking big!

    Local legend Chris Sammut spent two glorious weeks building this peck-tacular specimen, at a cost of $1500. He based the Chook on a styrofoam model of a rooster, then moulded him out of chicken wire and duck tape. He then sprayed the whole thing with fibreglass and added the details with all-feather paint.

    The Big Chook was completed in 1986 or 1987, apparently without council approval. Chris kept him as a temporary attraction for a few weeks in case a busybody turned up to complain, before concreting him to the ground. I guess that cemented the Big Chook’s place in the community!

    There are rumours of other oversized chickens prowling the fields and farms of Australia – and plenty of other birds, such as the Big Pelican, the Big Owl and the Big Penguin, but this handsome chap is near the top of the pecking order.

    There’s also a rather large strawberry nearby, but unfortunately it’s nothing to crow about.

    Don’t chicken out, take a beak at the Big Chook today – and hurry up because the cluck is ticking!

    Please note, I understand that there are some obvious and tired jokes that can be made comparing this delightfully large chicken to a part of the male anatomy. You probably think you’re being both original and hilarious. Trust me, you couldn’t be further from the truth. The Big Chook is a gentle, kind being who should be admired and revered, not become the butt of crass jokes. Neither he nor I appreciate the fowl language!

  • The Big Boxing Crocodile, Humpty Doo, NT

    The Big Boxing Crocodile, Humpty Doo, Northern Territory, Australia

    Our next Big weighs in at seven tonnes and hails from Humpty Doo, Northern Territory. He is the saltwater slugger, the concrete treat and the leather-weight champion of the woooooooooorld… ladies and gentlemen, put your claws together for the Big Boxing Crocodile! Or Bite Tyson, as I like to call him!

    Our punchy pal was made possible by enigmatic businessman Marshall Brentnall. He was hoping to draw attention to his Humpty Doo Bush Shop. Inspired by the boxing kangaroo logo used in Australia’s successful 1983 America’s Cup campaign, he contacted Sydney artiste Ray Park to complete the six-metre-tall colossus. After 14 weeks of construction and two weeks of painting at the Sydney Prop Centre, he made his debut in 1988. Not surprisingly, he was an instant hit with the locals!

    And just how much does a legendary Aussie boxer Kostya? Oh, around $120,000 – bargain!

    Whilst he looks like a cold-blooded killer, the croc is actually a big baby with a kind heart. The quality of his design and construction is extraordinary and he ticks all the boxes to be a Big Thing Hall of Famer, ranking alongside fellow lizard Ploddy, the Big Pineapple and the Big Prawn. He’s huge, regionally-appropriate, easy to take photos with and zany enough to stand out from the crowd.

    He got knocked down, but he got up again

    Like many of his massive mates, Bite Tyson’s had some Rocky years, and spent time in a state of disrepair. Fortunately the adjacent petrol station has given him a lick of paint and cut back the unruly bushes at his feet, so he’s not ready to throw the towel in yet!

    He rounds out an assortment of NT lizards including the Giant Jumping Croc, George, and the Croc Hotel down the road at Jab-iru. There’s no denying that this absolutely glove-ly pugilist is a real knockout – and that’s a unanimous decision.

    Oh, and I was going to finish off with another amusing quip, but I can’t remember the punchline!

    Please note that, whilst I appear to be making aggressive gestures towards this gentle giant in some photos, it was all in good fun and with the permission of the Big Boxing Crocodile. He has a wonderful sense of humour! Do not mock/threaten any Big – they’re placid, sensitive creatures and here to be admired. Aggression towards them will not be tolerated!

  • The Crocodile Hotel, Jabiru, NT

    Everyone fantasises about spending a luxurious evening inside a Big Thing. The only place you can do that is in the remote Northern Australian village of Jabiru. Deep in the heart of the mystical Kakadu National Park you’ll find the senses-shattering Crocodile Hotel. At 250 metres long and 30 metres wide, he’s earned a reptile-tation as the most massive Big in this sunburnt country.

    Being the size of a city block means this green machine is difficult to photograph – unless you have a drone, you’ll have to settle for a happy snap of his eye, shoulder or a part of his tail. Despite being a lovely chap and a perfect gentleman whilst entertaining guests, the Croc also likes to put on a bad boy veneer at night, when his eyes glow a spooky red. But don’t be frightened, like a leather jacket-wearing biker in a 50s movie, he has a heart of gold when you get to know him.

    He’s very big Dundee-d

    ‘The Croc’, as the locals imaginatively named him, opened his ginormous jaws for business in 1988, following the worldwide success of the classic Aussie film Crocodile Dundee. Soon his belly was filled by a constant stream of loud-mouthed Americans in even louder Hawaiian shirts, saying, “that’s not a knife” in cockney accents, many of whom proceeded to wander off into the wilderness and get eaten by real-life crocodiles. With international travel temporarily stilted, I was fortunate enough to be offered a complimentary night at the hotel, thanks to my role as Australia’s Big Thing ambassador.

    After a number of delectable crock-tails at the bar, I was treated to a tasting platter of authentic bush tucker, featuring buffalo, kangaroo, possum and, of course, crocodile. A tsunami of shame and guilt washed over me as I nibbled on The Croc’s relatives, but I couldn’t stop – it was just too delicious!

    The rooms are spacious and far more comfortable than spending an evening inside a real reptile, which I imagine would be most unpleasant. I suffer from quite serious night terrors, and I can’t begin to explain how comforting it was to be shaken from a particularly horrifying dreamscape to find myself safely ensconced within the belly of a Big. It was like returning to the womb.

    In a region with more Big Lizards than you can shake a didgeridoo at – including the Big Boxing Crocodile, Keith the Crocodile, George and the Giant Jumping Crocodile, the Croc Hotel beggars belief with his scales… I mean his scale! He makes the perfect base for a once-in-a-lifetime journey through Kakudu but be warned – at the Hotel Crocodilia, you can check out any time you like, but your heart can never leave!

  • The Giant Jumping Crocodile, Wak Wak, NT

    He was a bad boy with a heart of gold from the wrong side of the Adelaide River. I was a fresh-faced Big Thing enthusiast discovering myself in the wild Australian outback. Together we found love and the forbidden art of the samba. This is Dirty Water Dancing.

    They say you should never smile at a crocodile. But I challenge you to look at this happy little face without croc-ing a grin! This groovy dude is one of the most joyous Bigs you’ll ever see, and has been boogying non-stop outside The Original Adelaide River Queen Jumping Crocodile Cruises headquarters since 1984.

    He lives by the banks of the murky Adelaide River, which I don’t advise you to take a dip in, unless you’d like to become the lunch of a not-so-friendly real-life croc! Better to join a sensibly-priced jumping crocodile tour and then enjoy some light refreshments at the adjoining cafe. You can also say hello to Wak Wak’s other Big Crocodile as you munch on a scrumptious chocolate brownie.

    Yet another oversized lizard, the world famous Big Boxing Crocodile, lives just 20 minutes down the road at Humpty Doo, and the Croc Hotel is only a couple of hours away, making this the undisputed modern-day-dinosaur roadside attraction capital of the world (they should put that on a tea towel). You know you’ll visit sooner or alligator, so head along to the Giant Jumping Croc… and make it snappy!

    Oh, and remember… nobody puts Bigs in the corner!

  • Keith the Crocodile, Wak Wak, NT

    Big teeth? It must be Keith!

    For those who believe the Giant Jumping Crocodile is a little too wacky, there’s a more realistic, down-to-earth, version just a short sinusoidal stagger away. He lives in the courtyard of the Original River Queen Jumping Crocodile Tours cafe and is an unassuming monster who shuns the limelight.

    Nobody at the cafe knows who built him or when (I’d guess mid-to-late 80s), or even his name, so I call him Keith. It’s a shame because the design and workmanship are delightful – he looks enough like a real beastie to stop famished families in their tracks, but has enough character and charm to ensure everyone leaves a slice of their heart behind when they say goodbye.

    He’s big, too – 10 metres long at least, which makes him the largest, if not the most famous, croc in Wak Wak. They’re both outsized by the legendary Big Boxing Crocodile in Humpty Doo, Darwin’s George the Croc and the massive, awe-inspiring Crocodile Hotel in Jabiru, though. There’s capacious competition for king-sized crocodilians in the Northern Territory (and let’s not forget the Big Crocodile in Somersby, NSW).

    As I was snapping my photos, a local wag tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the chain attaching the smiling saltie to the ground. “Bigs,” he told me, cackling into the tropical twilight. “It’s to stop him from running away. “I found it so amusing that I couldn’t wipe the smile off my ‘dile for days!

    Alas, my time with Keith came to an end too soon, and we embraced as I told him I was off to see other Big Things. A little insensitive, sure, but I didn’t expect him to bite my head off about it!

  • Lefty the Big Pink Buffalo, Winnellie, NT

    If alcoholics see pink elephants, then those who prefer the intoxicating allure of Big Things must see pink buffalos! This festively-coloured fella is named Lefty, due to the unfortunate fact one of his bulbous, confronting testicles is larger than the other. Alright, alright, settle down! Small things (or, rather, massive dangly things) amuse small minds, I guess.

    To spend a right good time with Lefty, buffalo your instincts to the delightful Travans Cars & Commercials, where you can have your photo taken with a giant roadside attraction and buy a second-hand Toyota Hilux in the same afternoon.

    When I visited, nobody bothered coming over to chat to me during the 45 minutes I spent taking photos – probably because a burning passion for Big Things and an appreciation for reasonably-priced ex-fleet vehicles rarely go hand-in-hand.

    Lefty pranced into the Territory as a grey-coloured parade float many years ago, in a similar manner to the Big Shoe and Percy the Big Pelican. He bullied his way into the hearts of Darwinians and gained a ravenous supporters club, so he was purchased by a local buffalo trading company and popped on permanent display. I don’t know about you, but that’s the sort of thing that would convince me to buy an enormous beastie!

    A snazzy new paint job for Lefty wasn’t enough to keep the company afloat, and during the bankruptcy proceedings he ended up with his current owners. He seems happy enough in the car yard, much like Taree’s Big Oyster.

    It seems like he could still be wheeled out for a party, but that he hasn’t hit the social scene in many years. So rock up, meet the Pink Prince and please, don’t say anything about how he got his name – Lefty is a sensitive soul.

  • The Big Tasmanian Devil, Mole Creek, TAS

    The Big Tasmanian Devil, Mole Creek, Tasmania

    Don’t be frightened of this fang-flashing fella, because he’s friendly! And he wouldn’t be able to chase you anyway, because he’s missing his back legs and just sort of merges into the fertile Tasmanian earth. The Tassie Terror is a curious and unforgettable Big in a quiet corner of the country, and you’ll have a hell of a time if you visit this devil!

    Despite extensive research from myself and my sidekick, Brazilian Big Thing savant Bebezinha Grande, we were unable to pinpoint the devil’s exact age. Going by the style of the craftsmanship, which is eccentric, whimsicall and slightly homemade, my guess is he arrived sometime in the 70s. He certainly looks good for his age!

    The titanic Tassie lives out the front of Trowunna Wildlife Sanctuary, where you can see smaller, more active devils for a small fee. That’s not marsupi-all they have, either, because the sanctuary is home to wombats, kangaroos, quolls, pademelons, owls, eagles, swans and ducks. No penguins, though, but you can see one of those just up the road.

    Speaking of the Big Penguin, the Tassie Devil seems a bit underdressed in comparison. In fact, you could say that the Devil wears nada!

    Nearby Mole Creek is home to 609 very friendly people and is famous for its honey, the nearby limestone caves, and the historic Mole Creek Hotel – which has a Big Tassie Tiger above the door! The village is also ideally positioned within 90 minutes drive of the astonishing Dove Lake and Cradle Mountain, so nature lovers are in for a treat. There are no moles around, though, making this another town that should be renamed to better represent its most famous resident.

    I was absolutely devil-stated to say goodby to this happy chappy!

  • The Big Golden Dog, Glenreagh, NSW

    The Big Golden Dog, Glenreagh, New South Wales

    You’d have to be barking mad to miss out on The Big Golden Dog, which is conveniently located just 30 just minutes west of Coffs Harbour’s Big Banana! This four-metre tall, six-metre-long dreamboat scampered into Glenreagh in 2011 and has proven to be a howling success, with visitors often paws-ing for a photo with the handsome fellow.

    The massive mutt stands guard outside the prosperous Golden Dog Hotel, which offers a wonderful selection of beers and traditional Aussie tucker. And no, despite the name, they don’t just serve Chum and kibble! There’s also a handful of Golden Dog souvenirs available – stubby coolers, bottle openers and such – but I hounded them about getting more stuff in.

    Legend has it that, back in the day, a local hunk found a massive gold nugget nearby and raced into the pub to show it off. His chums, after presumably indulging in several celebratory lemon spritzers, decided the nugget bore a slight resemblance to a dog, and the pub was promptly renamed. Or at least that’s what the current owners, the ever-congenial Steph and Brendon, reckon.

    The monstrous mongrel has a tough-guy snarl and a bit of a wild streak – but don’t worry, he’s generally well behaved and certainly man’s best friend. He’s also a bit of a cutie. Don’t believe me? Well, the woof’s in the puddingo!

    Q: What does the Big Golden Dog eat at the movies?
    A: Pup-corn!

    The prodigious pooch was crafted by local builder Gary Smith and his mastiff proportions are truly impressive, with more of a yellow collar than the expected sparkly gold. Obviously constructed with love, care and true skill, this beautiful bowwow also has a charming homemade quality, which is part of the appeal of all the best Bigs.

    The original design was a little ruff, looking more like a mogwai than anything, so The Golden Dog was givena facelift in 2020. After the work he was every bit as cheek-pinchingly adorable as Pat the Dog, and just as strappingly handsome as Dunkeld’s Big Dog. Don’t worry, Goldie, even the most dapper gents have dabbled with cosmetic surgery – but I’m not sure we saw the same surgeon!

    It’s not uncommon to see gangs of bearded motorcycle riders, mouth agape, staring in wonder at this giant dog during their weekend rides. Families gather to worship him. The beer garden is particularly pup-ular with patrons, and is the perfect place to enjoy a beer or ca-nine. In fact, it’s so nice you might want to stay fur-ever!

    Yes, the behemoth barker is certainly labr-adorable, but I feel sorry for whoever has to clean up his big golden poo!

  • The Big Merino, Goulburn, NSW

    The Big Merino, Goulburn, New South Wales

    Have you herd about the world’s largest farm animal? Don’t be sheepish, visit the ewe-mungous Big Merino today! At 15.2m high, 18m long and weighing more than 100 tonnes, you’ll be amazed by the shear size of this gentle giant, who features p-ruminant-ly on the Goulburn landscape.

    The Big Merino is the brainchild of Big Thing luminaries Louis and Attila Mokany, who were also behind Taree’s outrageous Oyster and Ballina’s prodigious Prawn. Designed by Gary Dutallis and built by Glenn Senner, the project took around six months to com-bleat.

    The woolly wonder came ram-paging into town in 1985, with hundreds of thousands of tourists c-lamb-ering to see him. Along with a gift shop and a museum dedicated to the region’s wool industry tucked away inside his belly, our mammoth mate’s eyes provided a wonderful view out over Goulburn’s verdant fields.

    I still remember the first time I met this friendly farm animal – it was love at first sight because I’d never seen a roadside attraction on such a scale, or with so many incredible details. He looks like he’s about to wander off into the wilderness at any moment!

    Q: Where does the Big Merino get his wool cut?
    A: At the baa-baa!

    His legion of fanciers came to know him as Rambo but don’t worry. Unlike his action film namesake, he has a calm disposition and is highly unlikely to attack you with a machine gun.

    When Goulburn was bypassed by the Hume Highway in 1992, many of Rambo’s admirers feared for his future. However, we needn’t have worried. In 2007 he was plonked on the back of a truck and moved 800m up the road to his current home near the southern exit ramp.

    I was lucky enough to witness the move, along with thousands of others, and to this day it remains one of the most inspiring feats of human achievement. I was so inspired, in fact, that I trotted straight over to Karoonda, South Australia to see their take on The Big Ram.

    Today, Rambo is more striking than ever. Cosmetic work was carried out after his migration to complete his legs and add some other minor details, and his eyes now peer out over a nearby Bunnings Warehouse. I guess he has something in common with his brothers the Prawn and Big Kev in that regard! The sprawling gift shop in his tum-tum has plenty of Big Merino souvenirs at great prices, so they won’t try to fleece you!

    Q: What do you get if you mix the Big Merino with Matilda the Kangaroo?
    A: A woolly jumper!

    Baaaaaaa-t wait, there’s more! It seems that a small number of scoundrels purporting to be friends of the Bigs have taken to molesting Rambo’s rude parts, which are displayed prominently at the rear of the beast. Many, tragically, delight in taking photos of this act of treason. Whilst I’m sure they believe this to be funny or clever, it is neither.

    In fact, it’s a gross exploitation of our friend’s privacy. He has feelings, too, so please leave his Big Balls alone. Admire them, sure, but leave his balls alone. If you dare send me a photograph of this manner, you’ll end up on Rambo’s Hall of Shame. You’ve been warned. You might think you can get away with it, but you can’t pull the wool over my eyes!