Category: Big Reptiles

Fruitisforus the Big Dinosaur, Ballandean, QLD

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!

March 21, 2025
Grrrreta the Grrrreat Big Dinosaur, Fruita, Colorado

The hills above Fruita, Colorado, are full of dinosaur bones, but it’s in the centre of town that visitors can get up close and personal with Grrrreta, a bombastic, bright-green tyrannosaurus.

Radiating with a pleasant retro zeal, Grrrreta has served as the symbol of this quirky outpost for more than 80 years. From her spot in Circle Park, she watches over Fruita’s laidback coffee shops and bohemian craft beer emporiums.

It’s a bit like Jurassic Park, with slightly less chance of having your head bitten off. Well, unless you’re Mike the Headless Chicken.

Grrrreta’s syrupy smile, however, hides a prehistoric pain. Despite her legendary reputation in western Colorado, the old girl has more than once stood upon the precipice of extinction.

Her story starts way back in the primordial soup that was the 1940s. Local chap Ray Thomas and his wife owned The Dinosaur Store on the outskirts of town, which sold a scrumptious array of candies, sodas and, erm, rocks. Well it was before PlayStations and Tamagotchis, so the kiddies made do with what they had – and Colorado certainly has its share of rocks.

When Highway 50 was rolled out right outside his shop’s front door, Ray knew he needed something BIG to pull in customers, and decided on an enormous dinosaur. The only problem? He didn’t really know what they looked like.

“They wrote to the Smithsonian and asked them to send them specs for a dinosaur,” explained local character Sherry Tice, who later leased the building the creature guarded. “And so they sent the specs and they built that dinosaur out of railroad ties, chicken wire, and ferrocement.”

Looking at the beastie, maybe that should be ferocious-ment – teehee!

Ray named his creation Dinni – but let’s just stick with her current name, Grrrreta, to avoid confusion. Thousands of curious travellers popped in to see her, and the commemorative rock business had never been healthier.

But that’s not all-osaurus, folks!

They said you’d never get anywhere
Well, they don’t care and it’s just not fair
That you know, that I know Grrrreta

Anyone who thinks ancient lizards don’t have a flair for fashion, has never met Grrrreta. She’s had more looks than Greta Garbo, Greta Thunburg and Greta the disturbingly sensual mogwai from Gremlins 2 combined.

As The Dinosaur Store changed hands over the years, her new owners festooned her with their own quirks and peccadilloes. One year she was green with orange spots, the next a handsome shade of chartreuse yellow. One owner, feeling festive, replaced her eyes with bright red lightbulbs, which must’ve freaked out the local drunks.

“Later on, there was a speaker put in its mouth and a remote control from inside the gas station, and they could press a button and the dinosaur would roar,” Sherry revealed. “One lady was pumping gas and the dinosaur roared and it scared her so bad she jumped in the ditch nearby.”

These days it’s just the gas prices that terrify customers – teehee!

Much like the age of the dinosaurs, however, all good things must come to an end. But instead of a colossal comet, it was the twin terrors of gentrification and corporate gluttony that almost wiped out this prehistoric princess.

In the early-80s a truck driver – terrorised, perhaps, by her jagged teeth and relentless claws, but more likely overwhelmed by lust for her exotic curves and come-hither eyes – got into a tyrannosaurus wreck, destroying Grrrreta’s tail. The tricera-cops turned up to drag him off to the gulag for the crime of damaging a Big, but the damage was done.

When The Dinosaur Store shut its doors for good, Grrrreta was left to decay in the relentless Colorado sun. A metaphor for the downfall of society, the old girl’s predicament became a saur point for the good folk of Fruita.

But, as chubby, bearded gentleman from Jurassic Park would say, “Life finds a way!”

When I say, ‘I love you,’ you say, you Grrrreta
You Grrrreta, you Grrrreta you Grrrret

Seizing upon Grrrreta’s cultural value, some art boffins in nearby Grand Junction raised funds to have the dinosaur completely rebuilt. The old one was thrown in a bin somewhere and a brand spankin’ new metal skeleton was crafted, with some sort con-cretaceous poured over the top. With a new lick of paint, Grrrreta was ready to charm the locals for another four decades.

But it ain’t easy bein’ green (or whatever colour Grrreta was at the time).

Shortly after Sherry Tice took over the former Dinosaur Store and turned it into a pizza shop (the marrrrgherita was, not surprisingly, delicious!), the building was condemned. Grrrreta, tragically, was to be torn down. Well, jurassic times call for jurassic measures, and Sherry wasn’t going to let her gal pal become part of history.

“When we found out, I went down to the federal building in Grand Junction and I asked if the federal government would give us that dinosaur for the town of Fruita,” Sherry spluttered.

The pollies, empathetic to the plight of a fellow sharp-fanged, scaly creature, gave a resounding, “Yes, ma’am!”

One warm day in 2000, Grrrreta was loaded up on a truck and driven through the sun-dappled streets of Fruita to her new home, as thousands of besotted locals watched on. To ring in this new era, the local kiddies were given the opportunity to rename their favourite dinosaur.

They of course chose Barney, but the town went with their second choice – Grrrreta. I assume the ‘r’ key must’ve gotten stuck when they typed out her nameplate.

Grrrreta the Devil You Know

The old gal was placed behind a sturdy fence to keep distracted truck drivers – and hormonal teenagers unable to restrain their lurid desires – away from her hedonistic curves.

She also had a leash strapped around her ankle to prevent her from going crazy and storming through the streets of Fruita, chasing cars and peeping in windows. Or, at the very least, popping into one of the town’s colourful, yet competitively-priced restaurants for a snack. Just a tip, this dino likes her steak rawwww!

The locals took to dressing Grrrreta up for special holidays. A pumpkin on her head for Halloween, a Santa costume leading up to Christmas, a yarmulke for Yom Kippur, that sort of thing.

Grrrreta’s whimsical nature harkens back to simpler times. No, not the Triassic period, that would’ve been vaguely horrible. I mean a time when men and women across the world built giant roadside dinos, like Tyra and Big Kev and Digby and the marvellous, majestic Ploddy.

Millions of years from now, long after we’re all gone and the Land of the Bigs servers have been shut down for good, the next inhabitants of this planet may, perhaps, stumble upon what’s left of Gretttta and the thousands of other roadside attractions that decorate our lonely blue planet. The only remaining trace of mankind’s existence, they’ll tell the stories of our culture and history, our triumphs and failures and wildest dreams.

Perhaps they’ll stand before Grrrreta, their six mouths agape, 23 eyes non-blinking, antennae wobbling around comically, feeling the same sense of wonder that the rest of us did the first time we saw this prehistoric masterpiece.

Gretttta, my fellow Biggies, is the ultimate expression of what it means to be human.

November 5, 2024
Varanus the Big Goanna, Forbes, NSW

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.

October 27, 2024
The Red Iguana, Salt Lake City, Utah

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?”

October 5, 2024
Icus Kanan, Finca El Amate, Guatemala

Scrambling through the heaving valleys of deepest Guatemala, Bigs Bardot and his plucky sidekick Bigella Fernandez Hernandez approached their fate. They paused momentarily in the shadow of El Volcán de Pacaya – a wisp of smoke drifting languidly from its peak – and surveyed the mangled landscape.

Their journey to the ancient realm of Finca el Amate, foretold by the stars for eons, had only one intent. To confront the hideous beast who had cast a black cloud over these lush, green hills: the dragon known as Icus Kanan.

(Well, and to have a scrumptious slice of chocolate cake at the Finca’s well-appointed café – don’t skimp on the whipped cream, Francisco!)

After much searching, they spied the leviathan, his gaze unyielding, stationed high upon the fractured earth. Of course, they could have simply copied the directions from the Finca’s easily-navigatible website, but that was no challenge for ones so courageous.

“Icus Kanan…” sniffed Biggles Leticia Bardot. “What an odd name!”
“You’re one to speak,” replied Bigella Fernandez Hernandez, herself no stranger to unique monikers. “Icus comes from the name Ficus, the scientific term for the region’s abundant amate trees. Kanana is the Mayan Guardian of Nature. Hence, Icus Kanan.”
“Thanks for the history lesson,” Bigs sneered. “But we’re here to slaughter an awe-inspiring mythical beast.”

Bigs straightened his outlandish flamingo tunic, and Bigella adjusted her fashionable cat hat, and they approached Icus Kanan with much bravado. Bigella moreso than Bigs, who hung back and made excuses for why he shouldn’t be the one to confront the dragon.

“I’ve just had my hair done,” he sniffed valiantly. “One puff of that dragon’s fiery breath and I shall resemble a young Richard Simmons.”

And so, with plastic swords flailing in the autumn breeze, Bigs and Bigella ambushed the behemoth.

How to Maim Your Dragon

They punched and pinched and kicked and slapped. Wrestled and wrangled and argued and spat. But nothing could make the colossus go SPLAT! Finally, as our heroes collapsed to the grassy grass, the dragon rose up and spoke.

“Hey, hey, hey guys, what are you doing?” he said in a surprisingly high-pitched squeak, not unlike popular 90s TV character Steve Urkel.
“Slaying you,” shrugged Bigella.
“Well you’re not doing a very good job of it,” Icus Kanan chuckled.

“Give us a break,” Bigs sighed. “We survived the horrors of La Mano Verde, and scurried past Ebony & Ivory – lovers trapped in the eternal rapture of devotion – just to vanquish you.”
“Vanquish me? But why?” gasped the serpent, with genuine hurt in his voice. “I’m a beloved icon of Guatemalteca culture. Over 4000 people visit the Finca each year just to take a photo with me.”

“Well, and to enjoy the area’s natural beauty, pleasant climate, and well-maintained camping facilities,” suggested Bigella.
“And to try the gorgeous chocolate cake,” added Bigs.
“Yes, Francisco is a talented chef,” grinned Icus Kanan. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried his strawberry mousse. I can introduce you to him, if you like. We’re meeting up for pickleball this afternoon.”

Wiping tears from their eyes, our heroes ensconced the dragon in a warm group hug.
“Icus, I must offer my humblest apologies,” Bigs blubbered. “I thought you were a real fire-breather.”

“Only if I don’t get my morning coffee – teehee!”

And thus, the three of them lived happily together in rural Guatemala for the rest of their long lives.

~Fin~

Leaflet

July 30, 2024
The Great Gonzo, Moab, Utah

Moab, Utah, is most certain to please
A desert oasis that’s best served with cheese
With mountains and shrubs and Arches and quilk
And quaint restaurants that serve bumdoozlers with milk

I felt a great leaping of joy in my heart
As I swaggered along, seeking oversized art

In no time at all, my stroll turned to a hop
I’d spotted a Big Thing outside of a shop
And with great skilful skill that would impress a wizard
I raced towards something that could be a lizard

As I got nearer I heard a ga-whine!
I looked
I saw some him perched up on a sign
Wearing a Hawaiian shirt, the oddest of creatures
Describe him? That’s hard. He had such bizarre features
He was largish, and oldish, and bluish and mossy
And he spoke with a Utah accent that was sharpish and bossy

“Bigs Bardot!” he said, taking swift action
“I am The Gonzo. A roadside attraction
I lure in travellers both ancient and young
With my palpable sense of both filbus and fun”
His tail did flap and his eyes they did spin
“Won’t you please join me inside The Gonzo Inn?”

“Look, Gonzo”, I said. “I don’t see the harm
It’s better than sleeping out there in a barn
Moab’s quite cold when you’re on your ownly
A life tracking down Bigs can be rather lonely
So please lead the way, to a room for this brat
With a rat, a cat, and a Big Cricket Bat
I hope it has carpets, and pillows, and sheets!
And curtains! And comfortable, munchable seats!

The Gonzo said, “Bigs! You are crazy with greed
A sensibly-priced condo is all that you need!

But the very next minute I proved Gonzo wrong
For, just at that minute, I burst into song
And the critter found my voice was really quite great
Then invited me out on a lovely bro date
I laughed at The Gonzo, and gave him a smile
“No, all I need is the love of a handsome reptile!”

Leaflet

June 18, 2024
Lizzo the Lizard, Somersby, NSW

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.

May 12, 2024
Iguana, Isla Mujeres, México

A tropical island full of women sounds like Hell on Earth to a man of my tastes, so it would take something special to lure me towards México’s Isla Mujeres. That something special arrived in the shape of an enormous iguana – named, creatively, Iguana – and so off I popped to the sultry Island of Women.

Isla Mujeres rests a few kilometres off the golden shores of Cancún, where sunburnt American tourists spend their days crowding around Clawdia the Crab and their evenings stuffing overpriced tacos into their faces. Ultramar run regular ferries to the island from Puerto Juarez, and if you’re lucky you might be entertained by a chubby Mexicán Elvis impersonator during the half-hour trip.

Juan Méndez say
Only fajitas rush in
But I can’t help eating nachos with you!
El Vis Pérez, Cancún’s third-chubbiest Elvis impersonator

The ferry, shockingly, doesn’t head straight to the Iguana, instead docking in a far less interesting part of the island. I couldn’t find a limousine, so had to jump on an overcrowded party bus like a filthy commoner.

There I was, surrounded by a gang of liquored-up British hooligans (who showed little interest in the cultural importance of oversized roadside attractions), with a voluptuous Latina perched upon my lap, her melon-heavy breasts suffocating me as she attempted to pour tequila down my unwilling gullet. Lo siento, Maria, but those aren’t the sort of Big Things I’m aroused by!

By the time I plunged sweatily from the bus at Punta Sur, my curvy admirer declaring her undying love for me, I was both physically and emotionally drained. I honestly didn’t know if I had the willpower to show the Iguana the reverence she deserved. I shouldn’t have worried, because what I found on that island filled me with a newfound respect for Mexíco and her people.

Hang around for a rep-while and I’ll tell you all about it!

I wish I was in Tijuana, kissing a giant iguana!

Iguanas have long been the symbol of the Yucatan Peninsula and, fortunately, the legions of drug-obsessed tourists haven’t managed to snort or smoke them all yet. The sociable sauropods slither over every scrap of Isla Mujeres, seemingly making a pilgrimage, like me, to the statue of their leader.

The Big Iguana sashayed into this sun-kissed spot in 2001, taking pride of place at the entrance to the island’s popular Sculpture Garden. ‘Iggy’ has changed colours and patterns many times over the years, so maybe she’s part chameleon!

She was all I could skink about as I followed a cluster of cold-blooded critters along the carbuncled coastline. And then there she was, standing proudly over the her kingdom, with the baying brine churning behind her. Queen Iguana, the Monarch of Mujeres.

Iggy’s spines are at once menacing and motherly. Her scales are shockingly lifelike, her eyes deep and regal, as though she knows more than the rest of us ever shall. This is a Big built not simply to attract tourists, but to pay homage to the rich local culture. Falling to my knees to nuzzle her noble nails, I came to realise that women aren’t so bad after all.

But I didn’t let Maria know that!

By the time the tangerine sun dropped into the turquoise sea, my fear of the fairer sex had quelled enough for me to pose not only with Iguana, but with a nearby statue of the shapely Mayan goddess Ixchel. One afternoon with this sublime squamate had done more to cure my fear of gynophobia than years of electroshock therapy ever did.

I love you, Iguana!

Iguana see more!

Has this scaly scamp left you hungry for more? Then scurry along to exotic Taree to see Joanna the Goanna, or spend a frilling afternoon with Frilly the Lizard in beautiful Somersby. There’s also Dirrawuhn, The Big Thorny Devil and The Big Water Dragon. For something closer to Méxicó, stroll over to Costa Rica for an unforgettable encounter with La Iguana. Yes, there’s more than iguana of them!

Honestly, if I had a peso for every Big Lizard I’ve visited, I’d be a chemeleonaire!

February 16, 2023
The World’s Largest Dinosaur, Drumheller, Alberta

Sixty-seven million years ago, when rivers ran red with molten magma, the towering tyrannosaurus traipsed across the bleeding badlands we now call Canada. Standing six-metres tall and with a head full of lancinating ivories, this terrifying thunder lizard tore all before her to shreds.

Well, it’s 2022, and the tyrannosaurus has evolved. Now seven-storeys tall and capable of gobbling dozens of bemused tourists at once, she towers over the streets of far-flung Drumheller and is one of the most celebrated Big Things on the planet.

Please put your comically undersized forearms together for Tyra, the World’s Largest Dinosaur.

Open the door…

The undulating curves and tortured ravines of central Canada remain a hellscape from another time. The red dirt heaves with the bones of long-extinct creatures, attracting budding palaeontologists in their thousands. But all of this lies, quite literally, in the shadow of Tyra.

This Jurassic jaw-dropper dominates Drumheller’s unassuming skyline, and can be seen from every corner of the town. At 26.3-metres tall, 46 metres from titanic tail to stately snout, and tipping the scales at a sensational 66 tonnes, it’s hard to appreciate just how massive Tyra is until visiting in person.

I was completely unprepared for how small and insignificant Tyra made me felt, and it took my brain a while to process the unreal spectacle before me. At first, she looks like an optical illusion, because she’s so out of proportion with her surroundings.

Tyra’s immense size is matched only by the quality of her construction. Incredibly lifelike, she seems poised to rip the passing tour buses apart at any moment. The World’s Largest Dinosaur was recently renovated, so her lifelike green and yellow hues really pop against the arid landscape. She’s the most gorgeous lizard you ever did ‘saur.

Honestly, I could never get Tyra’d of looking at Tyra!

Get on the floor…

October 13, 2001, was a big day for the good people of Drumheller. That’s when Tyra was officially introduced to a world that could scarcely believe her dimensions, and the town was put squarely on the Big Thing map alongside Barellan and Nadym. Her story, of course, began many years before that fateful moment.

The idea to build a thought-provoking theropod in the centre of town was floated by Cory Campbell, the former executive director for the Drumheller Regional Chamber of Development.

“The town was bringing 500,000 people a year, but a lot of them were just going to museums and leaving,” Cory whined. “It was a day trip for them. So we were trying to capitalise on that. The idea of a big dinosaur had been floating around the community for a while.”

“My thought was ‘Well, that’s a good idea, but it needs to be interactive, it can’t just be a statue, take a picture, leave. We need people to stick around,’” he chattered. “It’s a great success story for the community. And I’m hoping that our downtown core will continue to develop around it.”

It wasn’t until 20 years later that The World’s Largest Dinosaur, who previously presented as non-binary, was revealed as female She took on the name of world-renowned paleontologist/part-time model Tyra Banks, who is also a self-confessed Big Thing fanatic. Sadly Tyra was in Budapest for a high-profile meeting of the world’s greatest minds when I visited Drumheller, but she sent me her best wishes.

Everybody walk…

Tyra may be a proud Canadian, but her DNA is uniquely Australian. Queensland company Natureworks, the wunderkinds responsible for Ally the Alpaca, Frilly the Lizard, and the Big Koala Family, took on the mammoth task of building Tyra. As always, they created something magical, but the project remains a dino-sore point for the company’s Imagineering Director, David Joffe

Rather than relying on David’s experience and creativity to design the creature, the good people of Drumheller handed him a small toy dinosaur and told to blow it up to epic proportions

“I was appalled when told that, after much discussion, the client had approved this pathetic T-Rex toy-like model,” David lamented several years later in a tense-yet-illuminating interview, the shockwaves of which still ripple throughout Central Canada. “I was told to shut up and just make it bigger.”

Tyra was built in pieces in the Philippines, then shipped to Drumheller in a convoy of 10x40ft containers. The result, as you can see, is remarkable… but try telling Dave that!

“Over one million dollars later, the finished dinosaur is as sh***y as the original model,” he raged. “The finished photos don’t deserve the paper to be any bigger than a postage stamp. This is what happens when artists’ egos are not tempered by realists.”

It sounds like Drumheller’s leaders were so preoccupied with whether or not they could turn a tiny T-Rex toy into the World’s Largest Dinosaur, that they didn’t stop to think if they should!

The World’s Largest Dinosaur!

There is one Aussie who is hopelessly, unapologetically infatuated with Tyra, and that’s me, the inimitable Bigs Bardot. I respect and admire David Joffe more than any man on the planet, but believe he’s doing his work a disservice with his claims. Tyra is big, buxom and beautiful, and a must-see for any Big Thing fanatic.

It was a long and bumpy scooter ride from Calgary to Drumheller, but I found the desolate scenery breathtaking and enjoyed every rustic moment of it. Western Wayne and Squirt the Skunk provided welcome company but, as delicious as they are, they’re little more than appetisers for Tyra the Temptress.

Her size moved me to tears. Her elegance caused my stomach to flutter like a freshly-cooked bowl of poutine. Even my flirtations with Ploddy and Big Kev and Digby and Fruity – some of the largest dinosaurs in existence – couldn’t prepare me for the emotions that crashed over me like the overripe waves of September.

Wanting nothing more than to be inside Tyra, I paid my $5 at the adjoining gift store and climbed gleefully into her bowels. One-hundred-and-six steps took me to the apex of the World’s Largest Dinosaur, and I climbed out of her gullet to gawp in wonder at the view of majestic Drumheller. It was one of the defining moments of my life.

Yes, Tyra can take hundreds of people in her mouth each hour without gagging, although she complain about having a bit of a ‘saur throat afterwards!

October 26, 2022
Geckomania, Southport, QLD

The Gold Coast is all about sun, surf and squamates, because the city’s been seized by a set of bug-eyed bad boys who love laying the smackdown on each other. Welcome to Geckomania!

These beaut newts are in a three-way battle to become the Heavyweight Champion of Your Heart. I’m not sure what style of wrestling they’re practising, but I’d assume it’s Gecko-Roman.

The suave saurians can be seen sparring next to a set of swings and see-saws in Southport’s Broadwater Parklands. A whole day can be serpent salameandering through the gardens, exploring the playgrounds and admiring the gentle ocean. You might even meet Bigfoot, Blue Perspective and the dynamic duo of Maddie & Mike.

The Big Geckos were being reno-snake-ted when I visited, with a friendly chap giving them a much-needed lick of paint. Apparently, this is done go-annually. Unfortunately, it also meant I was unable to climb atop their strapping physiques to serve a devastating piledriver. Ah well, there’s always next time.

The Wonderful Lizards of Oz

Australians sure are obsessed with voluminous lizards. In fact, there are more of these cold-blooded cuties than you can shake a detached tail at.

There’s Dirrawuhn down the road in Lismore, Joanna the Goanna in Taree, and Frilly in Somersby. You can also find the Big Water Dragon in Port Mac, a Thorny Devil of epic proportions in the nation’s capital, and more crocs than you can shake a German tourist at in the Top End.

Feeling faaaaaaabulous? Then it’s about damn time to visit Lizzo!

Nowhere else, however, is it possible to see a bunch of geckos suplexing each other for your amusement. I’m pretty sure I even saw one of them put his opponent in a Boston crab! I just hope these ‘rasslin’ rascals don’t resort to bopping each other over the head with chairs.

I skink they’re wonderful and iguana go back and visit them one day! Sure, they might get a bad rap-tile, but stay calm-eleon because the Big Geckos are aphibi-amazing!

October 8, 2022
The Big Red Belly, Maudsland, QLD

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.

July 23, 2022
Ploddy the Big Dinosaur, Somersby, NSW

Long before the age of Bananas, Penguins, Pineapples and Prawns, an enormous concrete dinosaur watched over Australia’s highways. Ploddy, the oldest of her kind and the grandmother of the Bigs, was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.

With her timeless beauty and vivacious personality she ushered in the era of massive roadside attractions, becoming a national celebrity in the process. However, like the ancient thunder lizards she was modelled after, extinction is on the horizon for this gentle giant.

Despite her proud history, this folk hero has been abandoned in the bush, locked away behind a gnarled barbed-wire fence and left to rot. It’s a tragic and shameful situation for the mellow yellow lady, who’s terribly lonely out there in the wilderness.

This, dear readers, is the tragic tale of Ploddy the Dinosaur.

Do-you-think-she-saurus?

Ploddy’s epic story begins in the halcyon days of 1963, when hair was long and short-shorts were super short. Eric Worrell, owner of the popular Australian Reptile Park in Wyoming, New South Wales, was looking for a way to draw in more visitors from the Pacific Highway – and the common worm-skinks just weren’t doing the job. That’s when he had a BIG IDEA.

What if he built a life-size dinosaur and plonked it out by the main road? The plan was as preposterous as it was brilliant. Although Grrrreta the Grrrreat Big Dinosaur was wowing the crowds over in America, nothing of the sort had ever been attempted in this country. Undeterred, Eric and his chums got to work, largely making it up as they went.

The project took just two months for Eric’s talented team, including designer Ken Mayfield and construction engineer Jim Sullivan, to complete. Not bad for a diplodo-custom made dinosaur!

At 26-metres-long and weighing 100 tonnes, Ploddy was unlike anything the good people of the Central Coast seen before. She ushered in a new era of prosperity to the park, drawing in tens of thousands of curious onlookers who just wanted to say ‘allo-saurus to the Central Coast’s largest resident.

Ploddy was the first Big Thing Aussie’s ever dino-saw. So why is she so close to being wiped off the face of the planet?

Plodding into our hearts

The inimitable Bigs Bardot moved into the adjacent caravan park with his family in the mid-80s, and it was love at first sight – even though I was a little intimidated by Ploddy at first. Whenever things became too brutal in the trailer, I’d sneak over to see my massive mate. As I nestled into her serpentine neck, everything seemed right in the world.

In those days she was easily accessible and it was even possible to climb on top of or inside her, and she was always willing to listen to my problems. Ploddy told me there was a vast world out there, full of giant icons just like her. I promised her that I would visit every single one of her friends, and I take that vow seriously.

Ploddy was something of a chameleon, changing colours often, and as a rebellious youth I would dye my hair to match. We were inseparable, so I was understandably heartbroken when she took me aside one windswept day in 1994 to let me know she was moving away forever.

After 33 years in Wyoming, the Reptile Park’s new owners, John and Robyn Weigel, were taking the cold-blooded cutie and the rest of the reptiles to a new location at Somersby. It took two years to fossil-itate, and I spent as much time with Ploddy as I could, but things weren’t the same. A sadness hung over our rendezvous, and I even flirted with other Bigs such as the Merino, Oyster, and the man who would go on to become the other great love of my life, The Big Avocado.

What can I say? I was just love Jura-sick!

Movin’ on up

When Ploddy finally made her move on a stormy day in 1996, thousands of people lined the streets of Gosford to bid her farewell. I was in tears, not only to lose my best chum, but because they cut Ploddy’s poor feet and tail off to remove her from the concrete platform she guarded for so many years. It took Gosford’s largest crane to place her onto Gosford’s largest truck, and I marched proudly, but with a heavy heart, alongside her through the adoring crowds.

It was the greatest party Gosford had ever seen but, once the celebrations faded away, the tragedy of Ploddy’s situation became apparent. She wasn’t planted at the entrance of the new Reptile Park; that honour was bestowed upon Frilly the Lizard, with Ploddy tossed into a dusty clearing several hundred metres away.

She could watch the cars zip by on the new Pacific Highway, of course, but her friends had no real way of getting up close and personal with her. Ploddy was no longer able to serve her purpose as a Big Thing – she was a glorified billboard, locked away behind a fence and at the mercy of the elements. When the wind blew just right on a clear night, I could hear her weeping all the way from Wyoming.

Perhaps, I thought, she could also hear my cries.

The Lizard of Oz

Ploddy’s the oldest of the Big Things, an important part of Australia’s history and culture, and for her to be treated like this is nothing short of disgraceful. Whilst the Big Banana, Big Boxing Crocodile and even Ploddy’s little brother Big Kev and niece Digby have people lined up to take photos with them, pouring millions of dollars into their local communities, this grand old dame of roadside attractions has been cast aside, with only a few hardy souls visiting her. It’s outrageous and the good folks at the Australian Reptile Park need to do something about it.

Mercifully it’s still possible to see Ploddy, if you’re up for an adventure. The best way is to park by the side of the Old Pacific Highway at Somersby and locate the steep, overgrown path heading north towards the sizeable sauropod.

It’s not for the faint of heart, small children or the elderly, but those who brave the 100-metre climb will be rewarded by a meeting with the graceful Queen of the Bigs. It’s a bit like visiting my stepdad Craig in jail, though, due to the chainlink fence and the sour stench of desperation.

Until then, Ploddy’s true friends will visit her, chat to her, reassure her that everything will be OK. We’ll hold back the tears and pretend to believe our words, then fall apart as we walk away. This site, my life, and the passion that beats through the heart of every Big-thusiast, exist because of the incomparable Ploddy the Big Dinosaur. My first love, my purest love.

April 28, 2021