Category: New South Wales

  • Heart of Country, Fairholme, NSW

    Heart of Country, Fairholme, New South Wales

    For aeons the Wiradjuri roamed the barren plains west of what we now call Sydney, hunting, gathering, and dreaming. These proud people formed a spiritual connection with the land, becoming one with the mountains and trees.

    And now their sinuous history has been immortalised in the form of Heart of Country. The six-metre-tall indigenous warrior stands ominously by the side of the road in Fairholme, 24km south-east of Condobolin.

    So if seeing Shannon Noll‘s childhood home isn’t enough to entice you to ‘Condo’, maybe Heart of Country will convince you to head out there.

    Created by Victorian artist Damian Vick, the one-tonne Corten Steel behemoth was unveiled to an intrigued public in June, 2021. Along with Varanus the Goanna in Forbes, this king-sized Koori serves as a guardian of the beloved Sculpture Down the Lachlan art trail.

    “I was extremely conscious that the creation of this work rested on a delicate cultural landscape, and that it must be approached with the gravity and sensitivity it demands”, Damian pontificated. “Seeing it in its final location, standing tall, with its earthy finish was an extremely proud moment and gave a sense of finality to a sculpture that I consider the most powerful and important one of my career to date.”

    Gazing, unblinking, at the tortured landscape of western NSW, Heart of Country becomes one with the red dirt. The scrub at his feet heaves with grasshoppers; the swaying trees echo with birdsong. As the fragrant outback breeze caresses the giant’s robust thighs, he reverberates with the pain and pleasure of the past.

    This above-average aboriginal truly is a work of Heart.

    Welcome to Country

    Brutal, natural, mournful, complex; Heart of Country means something different to everyone who visits him. The experience changes depending on the weather, season and time of day. What may appear intimidating – even aggressive – during the harsh light of a summer afternoon, takes on a melancholy candor under the silvery light of a winter moon.

    “Too bad the country’s heart is in the middle of nowhere,” my sidekick Gordon quipped as we rolled through Fairholme aboard the Bigsmobile. “I saw a good chimichanga shop about 200km back that would be the perfect place to put that statue.”
    “Were you impressed by the chimichangas,”I grinned, “or the mamacita serving them?”

    The air was hot enough to melt the sauce off a shish kebab as we pulled into the carpark. The first thing I noticed was how petite Heart of Country looks beneath the big skies of the golden west.

    “It’s as if Damian was commenting on man’s immaterial insignificance,” Gordon said solemnly, climbing out of the car.

    With his remote location, this is one Big that you won’t have to battle the crowds to get a photo with – and that’s a good thing. One can only appreciate Heart of Country by sitting at his feet and drinking in a millennia of culture and history.

    “Geez, Gordon,” I tittered, as we posed for our photo. “With his thousand-yard-stare and spiky spear thingy, I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”
    “He doesn’t have a bad side,” Gordon sniffed pompously. “He truly is a work or Heart – and you can use that on your website if you like.”
    “I already have, old mate,” I giggled, as we swaggered off into the bush. “I already have.”

  • 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 Big Diver, Darling Harbour, NSW

    Diver, Australian National Maritime Museum, Darling Harbour, New South Wales, Australia

    Depression, much like a hideous squid from the darkest depths of the deepest ocean, wraps its slimy tendrils around us all at some point or another. Tragically, Big Things, despite their beauty and fame and cultural importance, are no more likely than the rest of us to escape its wrath.

    Never is this more evident than with Diver, who stands forlornly out the front of the Australian National Maritime Museum.

    On the surface, he has it all. Designed by the incomparable Tim Kyle and installed in November 2021, Diver’s the tall, dark and handsome dude all the girls want and all the guys want to be. At five metres from weighted boots to bulbous helmet, he has a splendid view over the Sydney skyline.

    Chinese tourists line up for hours for a selfie with Diver, before kissing his plinth for luck. Children stop in their tracks to gawp, overwhelmed by his grandeur. Despite this, Diver remains cloaked in loneliness, his intricately-detailed tunic separating him from the harsh realities of the outside world.

    To stand with Diver for a moment, to hold his cold metal hand and listen to the mournful melody of water lapping at his enormous feet, is to understand the folly of mankind. This, my fellow Biggies, is desolation made flesh.

    And it was all by design.

    The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

    Installed to mark the United Nations Decade of Ocean Science for Sustainable Development (which runs from 2021–2030, and really could do with a snappier title), Diver compares and contrasts the plight of modern man to the solitude of the endless brine. Whilst a regular-sized diver may explore the bottom of the ocean, Diver helps us explore the very essence of humanity.

    “The piece presents as a metaphor for anonymity and introspection,” Mr Kyle explained to a wet-behind-the-ears scribe. “The sculpted suit acts as a symbolic armour, serving to reinforce his isolation. The scale elevates the figure’s melancholic presence, while retaining the formal elements of traditional sculptural language.”

    Tim, sweet Tim. It’s as if you took all my insecurities and wrapped them in the veil of an anatomically-correct roadside attraction.

    And thus, we may never know the real Diver. Like a deep-sea explorer trapped at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, helplessly watching his oxygen run out as the world trundles on miles above him, this Big is an enigma wrapped inside a mystery ensconced inside a three-bolt copper diving bonnet.

    Coda

    Forever changed (refined?) by the cold indifference Diver showed towards us, Gideon the Guacamole and I wandered through the brisk Sydney night. We gorged ourselves on cookies and cream gelato and boba tea encrusted with cheese foam, whilst avoiding the elephant in the room; the poignant despondency we had born witness to.

    “Golly gosh, Mr Bardot,” Gideon finally said, as he wiped foam from his quivering lip. “I sure am glad we have each other.”
    “And Bigella,” I replied. Gideon looked so happy I thought he might burst.
    “And Gordon and Gordina.”
    “And Lee Kernaghan.”
    We grinned at each other, pleased to have a loved one to share this moment with.

    Without special someone to take along for the ride, we’re destined to drift aimlessly through the pitch-black ocean of life. It’s the people we meet along the way that make this journey through the Land of the Bigs so special.

    If you or someone you know are going through difficult times, please contact Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636, or visit them at beyondblue.org.au.

  • The Big Footy, Ungarie, NSW

    The Big Footy, Ungarie, New South Wales, Australia

    Ungarie, a speck of a town hidden in the scrub between West Wyalong and Lake Cargellio, is remarkable for two reasons. Firstly, the Daniher brothers, a quartet of fearsome footballers who rose from obscurity to become the most celebrated sportsmen in the country.

    Secondly – and most notably – The Big Footy, which was built in their honour and looms large over the sleepy village of less than 400 people.

    Terry, Anthony, Neale and Chris Daniher made their marks with the Essendon Bombers, and in 1990 became the first set of four brothers take the field together. All up, the gang played 752 games in the AFL. Their legend has only grown in Ungarie, where the lads have taken on almost mythical status.

    The Big Footy, which is five metres long and weighs 800kg, was revealed to the public just after specky – oops, make that brekky! – on March 10, 2018. There must’ve been a lot of people calling out, “Baaaaall!” that day!

    “It’s very much indeed an honour,” Terry told a clearly-impressed reporter from the ABC. “It’s not something we ever thought would happen, but I think it’s wonderful.”

    “The Big Footy is great for our family but also for the community,” Neale added. “Ungarie is a tiny town in the middle of nowhere but a big-hearted community. If this means a few more people stop in town, that’d be a good thing.”

    More Than A Game

    Andrew Gordon and a couple of mates built The Big Footy in a workshop in Albury. Working with steel and fiberglass, the boys obviously had a ball making it!

    “The three of us have been working pretty hard. It had to be done and it had to be right,” Andy chirped after unveiling his creation, which cost just $60,000 – about the price of a pie at the MCG these days. “We started in September and the last 20 per cent of the job took 80 per cent of the time, which I guess is always the case.”

    You always give it 110 per cent, mate!

    “I reckon the last month or so, there weren’t many finishes before midnight and plenty and 1am and 2am finishes,” he added. “I wanted it to be as perfect as possible, and I’d say it’s perfect enough – but only just.”

    Thanks for ‘sherrin’ that story with the world, Andy!

    Up there, Bigs Bardot! Have a go, ya mug!

    Egged on by my travel buddy/personal concierge Gordon (the cherubic alien, not the chap who built this Big), I kitted up in a traditional Aussie Rules tunic for a photo sesh with The Big Footy.

    “36-24-36 – hike!” I chuckled as I played kick-to-kick with my petite friend, deftly goose-stepping around the verdant grounds of downtown Ungarie.

    As I was catching my breath, a funny little man trotted over with a look of astonishment on his face.

    “Bigs, I’ve never seen a display of athleticism quite like that,” the fellow gasped. “My name’s Eugene Kransky and I’m a talent scout for the Sydney Swans. I’d like to offer you a $5 million contract and a three-bedroom apartment overlooking the harbour.”

    The little guy held out a contract and a pen, hopeful tears pricking at his eyes, and my heart broke for him.

    “Eugene,” I said gently, “I appreciate your offer, but you know my loyalty lies with with the Big Things of Australia. Becoming a highly-paid sporting idol and sex symbol would just get in the way.”

    “Bigs, please,” Eugene wept. “The Super Bowl is this weekend, and we’re no chance of winning it without you. The whole country’s counting on you, mate.”

    “Alright, Eugene, keep your wig on,” I reassured him, as we walked into the sunset. “But make it $10 million, and I demand you sign Ernie the Shepparton Giant to be our wicket keeper.”

  • The Big Corkscrew, Berrima, NSW

    The Big Corkscrew, Berrima, New South Wales, Australia

    Bon appétit, sweeties! It is I, erudite New York socialite and cultivated wine snob, Bigs von Bubbles. But then you already knew that, ya putz!

    Rare is it that I venture past West 29th – it all gets a bit ethnic for my cultivated tastes – but, when I heard there was a gigantic corkscrew at the Bendooley Estate in the Southern Highlands of New South Wales, Australia, I knew I had to see it.

    After all, if the Aussies need a corkscrew the size of a taxicab, just imagine how much yummy booze they must have – hick!

    Not wanting to miss out on the soiree, I scrambled to book a flight on one of the few airlines that will still have me. (My heartfelt thanks to Motu from Air Eritrea, who made sure I was never without a carafe of alcoholic baboon milk – an East African favourite – during the 67-hour flight)

    The journey, and my brief incarceration at Sydney Airport, were well worth it. The Big Corkscrew, which was created by the captivating David Ball and installed in 2015, proved to be whimsical, offbeat and, dare I say it, fermented in melancholy. A love letter to alcohol dependency, if you will.

    “That’s lovely,” I muttered to myself after an appropriate period of admiring the Corkscrew. “But I have a Big Thirst, so where’s the Big Wine Bottle?”

    The Turn of the Screw

    Imagine my disappointment to discover that Bendooley wines – despite tantalising the tastebuds with zesty notes of plum and cherry – are served in teeny tiny 750ml bottles. Us Noo Yawkers like to drink out of 44 gallon drums, so that just wouldn’t do.

    Trembling uncontrollably, I scoured the estate’s luxurious grounds for for a bottle large enough to quench my cravings. Finally, a kind soul revealed that the nearest Big Bottles were in Pokolbin and Rutherglen – too far for me to travel to before immigration officials could track me down.

    Fortunately I was able to hitchhike to Australia’s cultural hub, Dan Murphy’s, to purchase the finest flagon of goon I could find. Only the freshest and most flavourful viño would do.

    Oh, who am I kidding? I’d guzzle methylated spirits out of a windsock if it came down to it – hick!

    The rest of the afternoon is a deplorable blur of alcoholic excess, as I well and truly wore out my welcome at Bendooley. After crashing a wedding and knocking over the three-tiered Boho-inspired cake I was, mercifully, ejected from the estate whilst professing my unyielding love to the newly-betrothed.

    My sincerest apologies, Malcolm and Rekesh.

    Teehee, it’s only me – a brief note from Bigs Bardot

    Buenos noches, Land of the Bigs fanatics! It is I, the inimitable Bigs Bardot. I had a bit of cheeky fun writing this entry in character as my alter-ego, Bigs von Bubbles, and took a little creative license for humorous effect.

    What I didn’t embelish, however, is how much I enjoyed my visit to Bendooley Estate.

    Nary a drop of alcohol has passed my supple lips, so I am unable to report on the fine range of Bendooley wines, but the charcuterie board, with its sumptuous selection of cured meats and homemade pickles, was like heaven on earth. Pair that with attentive service and rustic pastoral views, and you have the recipe for a ‘vintage’ afternoon.

    What a corker!

  • 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.

  • The Big Bread Clip, Dulwich Hill, NSW

    The Big Bread Clip, Dulwich Hill, New South Wales, Australia

    Yes, that’s a giant plastic thingy used to keep bags of bread closed, made from thousands of little plastic thingies used to keep bags of bread closed. And they say Australia lacks culture!

    Officially known as Monolith, The Big Bread Clip was unveiled to a bewildered public in November 2018, bringing a touch of glamour to Sydney’s inner west. Unique. Elegant. Colourful. This crust-see attraction is a delightful, playful tribute to one of the most underappreciated packaging devices on the planet.

    Gary Deirmendjian designed The Bread Clip, with the help of students from Dulwich High School. Overseeing the project was teacher and self-confessed Big Thing tragic Shane Forrest. Understandably, Shane’s since become the toast of the town.

    Without wanting to blow my own crumpet, this is the culmination of my selfless campaign to have Big Things added to the New South Wales bread-ducational curriculum. I’ve worked tirelessly with the state government to ensure every student has the opportunity to build a Big. After all, the next generation needs to learn the three R’s – reading, ‘riting and roadside attractions.

    Move over, mathematics, you’ve become stale!

    Girls Just Wanna Have Bun

    Boasting a level of detail rarely seen on a Big, this is a glorious example of postmodern artistry. By re-using oodles of bread clips, it also serves as timely reminder to recycle. Oh, and you can even poke your head through the centre for a bappy snap!

    You can find the dough-licious Big Bread Clip within the sprawling Johnson Park, sandwiched between a basketball court and a playground. It’s the perfect place to walk your dog or sit down to eat a roast chook roll, but it’s easy to get lost – so don’t baguette to bring a map.

    Invite your chums along to break bread, and you’ll really be the loaf of the party!

    This wholemeal – oops, I mean wholesome! – Big has become in-grained in the community. He joins The Big Cauliflower and Discobolus as Sydney’s most prominent tourist attractions.

    The Big Bread clip is like muffin you’ve ever seen. Last but not yeast, you knead to know is that it’s worth taking a clip out to see him!

  • The Big Tutankhamun, Buronga, NSW

    The Big Tutankhamun, Buronga, New South Wales, Australia

    Walk like an Egyptian to beautiful Buronga, near Mildura, where you’ll find an eight-metre-tall tribute to King Tutankhamun. All together now – Way-oh-way-oh, ooh-way-oh-way-oh!

    Surrounded by swaying palm trees and perfectly located by the roadside for a selfie (don’t forget to Nile!), King Tut provides the full Egyptian experience, without the 45-hour flight to North Africa. Like Cairo, there are a few dodgy types lurking around, so don’t get caught up in any pyramid schemes while you’re there.

    The Golden Goliath rules over the luxurious Edge Motel, a building that bears an uncanny resemblance to the Great Pyramid of Giza. But does the pyramid have OptusVision and and a 5.9 review score on Booking.com?

    Apparently there used to be a world-class restaurant onsite, with a range of food and sphinx served by head chef Gordon Ramses. But he left to open Anubis-tro somewhere else. And a word of warning to my friends in the Bitcoin community; despite the sarcophagus out the front, the little chap at reception doesn’t accept cryptocurrency.

    Locals say that, much like the Egyptian Pyramids, the owners used slaves to build the motel – but I had a good look around and it seems like they just used bricks.

    Stop by to say say hi-roglyph!

    Tutankhamen presides over a rough area of Buronga, so it came as no surprise when, as I struggled into my custom-designed Egyptian tunic, one of the local bogans hung his head the window of his souped-up Kia Stonic and yelled, “Show us ya Tuts!”

    “You must’ve ingested one too many cans of kicky beer, buddy,” I screamed at him. “There’s only one Tut in Buronga – and he’s right there in front of you!”

    Fortunately, the hotel room Gordon and I shared was well-presented, with relatively few scarab beetles scurrying around. My only complaint is that the bed was a bit hard, so I had to visit the Cairopractor the next day – teehee!

    We were kept up into the wee hours by Cleopatra and her six kids in the next room who, after a bit of back-and-forth, invited Gordon over to be her Mark Antony. Thanks for the offer, Raelene, but he has enough mummy issues as it is!

  • 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.

  • The Clam, Long Jetty, NSW

    The Clam, Long Jetty, NSW

    Hallelujah! Your prayers have been answered, because Brother Bigs is here to introduce you to a clam of biblical proportions. And, best of all, it doubles as a church, so you won’t have to take a break from worshipping Big Things in order confess your sins to a man of the cloth.

    It’s a miracle, baby. A dadgum miracle!

    The Clam rises divinely above Long Jetty, long known as the pearl of the Central Coast, and perfectly capture’s the area’s beachy aesthetic. An unassuming Big, The Clam can only truly be appreciated from the air. Which makes sense as it was, after all, built to appease a higher power.

    A shrining example of modern architecture, the Clam-thedral’s details are simply heavenly. The exhalant siphon has been lovingly recreated, and the prominent – some may even say provocative – umbo is almost indistinguishable from the real deal.

    Surrounding The Clam are understated lawns and pastors – oops, I mean pastures! – that are perfect for a moment of quiet reflection. There’s even a few psalm trees round the side.

    Whilst not as large as the similarly-shaped Big Oyster, please don’t allow this to alter your perception of The Clam. This is a truly special Big, an icon of the Central Coast, and a sacrosanct structure that should be admired and praised.

    There’s often a congregation outside to admire The Clam, which is no surprise because it’s a holy lot of fun!

    Wham! Bam! Thank you, Clam!

    Owned by the disciples of the Greenhouse Church, the mass-ive Clam is more than just a pretty ventral margin. Gatherings are held each Sunday, and the centre is also available for functions and weddings – making The Clam the only Big you can get married in!

    Of course, matrimony is nothing but a pipe dream for yours truly. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

    Any zealot of the Bigs really needs to make a pilgrimage to the sunny Central Coast, where you’ll also find Frilly, Daryl Somersby, The Big Cricket Balls, The Big Poppies, The Big Flower and The Odyssey of Life, all of which you can read about in the Good Book of Big Things – Land of the Bigs. You’ll be in raptures!

    So overcome by emotion were Gordon and I whilst exploring The Clam, that we tossed in our lives of atheism and became devout members of the church. Gordon even dressed as an alter boy – so cute!

    Our lives became full of love and meaning, we made soul-enriching friendships built on values and respect, and we were able to sit beneath the mystical glow of The Clam on a daily basis. Yet that was just the clam before the storm. We were, tragically, cast out when the other parishioners found out about my ‘alternative lifestyle’.

    Oh well, I guess the church simply isn’t ready to accept a man whose lord and saviour is a gigantic yellow dinosaur named Ploddy.

  • 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!

  • 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!

  • YININMADYEMI, Sydney, NSW

    YININMADYEMI - Thou Didst Let Fall (The Big Bullets), Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

    Drawing a blank on what to do this weekend? Are you locked and loaded for a Big that’ll make you go ballistic? Then it’s time to pull the trigger and shoot off to Sydney’s sprawling Hyde Park, where you’ll find seven big bullets of supreme size.

    And you thought you’d have to venture into Sydney’s southwest to find a bunch of spent cartridges strewn around a local park!

    Snappily titled YININMADYEMI: Thou didst let fall, this revolver-lutionary sculpture was created by Tony Albert, an indigenous artist who has many tricks in his arsenal. It celebrates the selfless contribution of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander service men and women, and can be found a few hundred metres from the famous Anzac Memorial. The whole precinct really is a barrel of fun!

    But that’s not all there is to this story – not by a long shot! Tony was inspired by the experiences of his grandfather Eddie, a war hero who escaped a brutal German concentration camp. Now, let us rifle through this incredible tale.

    The Magnificent Seven

    “Using his agility and speed, Eddie escaped the prison grounds and crossed Germany’s southern border into Italy,” Tony elucidated. “In Biella, a town in the northwest of Italy that lies at the foothills of the Alps, he and six other escaped Australian soldiers took refuge in a remote farmhouse on the outskirts of the town. Early one morning in late April, Italian soldiers found Eddie and the other escapees hiding in the farmhouse.

    “Captured again he found himself in the worst situation to date – the men were ordered to line up side by side to be shot one by one. After the execution of the three men before him there was a halt in gunfire.

    “An Italian Officer-in-Charge ordered his men not to shoot. He identified the men as Allied soldiers and that they must be returned to Germany. Miraculously, Edward Albert and three of his companions survived the ordeal.”

    A harrowing experience, to be sure, that has been vibrantly brought to life in The Big Bullets.

    The battle, however, had only just began for Eddie. The tribulations he faced when he finally returned home provided ample ammunition for his grandson when he was planning this icon. I guess I should bite the bullet and tell you that dark part of this story.

    War, huh, yeah! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing… unless you’re a fan of the Bigs!

    Even after giving the Nazis a good ol’ walloping, racism continued to ricochet throughout Australia. Alright, you may have already read about this in a magazine, but please, don’t shoot the messenger.

    “When service men and women returned to Australia, they were given land for their service,” Tony explained. “However, not only was Eddie and his fellow Aboriginal soldiers not given any land, their land was still being taken away.

    “Eddie and fellow Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men and women defended our country, they were prepared to fall but upon returning, they were left to fall again – ‘yininmadyemi,’ thou didst let fall. I envisage this memorial in Hyde Park to be a special and powerful place for contemplation and remembrance, a space for all our stories to be heard and recognised.”

    Emotionally confronting, thought-provoking and perched upon the precipice of a great cultural awakening, The Big Bullets are also super fun to take photos with. For this shoot I chose a modish army jacket that an acquaintance left at my house after a big night at a local dance club. I was also fortunate enough to have Grant, a luminary of the local homeless population, camped nearby to provide feedback on my poses and life choices.

    So inspired by YININMADYEMI was I that, in a military lapse of reason, I marched straight over to the nearest Army boutique to enlist. Oh well, hopefully there are plenty of Big Things for me to visit in Mogadishu!

  • The Odyssey of Life, Terrigal, NSW

    Don’t be a hermit, scurry along to the sun-soaked sanctum of Terrigal to see this ever-tilish mosaic crab, who comes with his own oversized sea shell. Known as The Odyssey of Life, this salt-encrusted wonder takes pride of place outside the Central Coast Marine Discovery Centre and is sure to pinch a piece of your heart!

    The Odyssey of Life he was lovingly created by the dynamic duo of Christopher Pekowski and Carlos Diaz, two passionate, self-taught artists whose hearts beat in unison. So in tune are these lads with each other, so driven by a shared passion for Big Things, that they answer to the collective name of Christopher Diaz and are rarely – if ever – seen apart in public.

    This Big is truly gob-smacking, with exquisite artisanship and impeccable attention to detail that must be seen to be believed. And the art world agrees. The Odyssey of Life picked up the Judge’s Choice award at the 2018 Sculptures @ Bayside festival in Kyeemagh, NSW – with one Biggles Marion Bardot casting the deciding vote.

    Apparently the runners-up were really crabby afterwards – teehee!

    Christian Diaz donated the sculpture, which is part of a series of works known collectively as Pacifica Australis, to the Discovery Centre in 2022. Since then, attendances have tripled, and the boys have found themselves as local shell-ebrities and the toast of the Coast’s blossoming so-shell scene.

    If you didn’t find those puns funny, babe, you must be shell-ucinating!

    Odyssey is the Best Policy

    This deliciously large Triton trumpet has swiftly become a much-loved feature of Terrigal’s burgeoning tourist scene, alongside The Skillion and underage drinking. Christian Diaz, however, see it as much more than that.

    “The ocean is a living organism in which everything is connected to everything, where constant migration and changes are turning it into a spectacular Odyssey of Life,” the boys explained when revealing their pièce de résistance. “It’s happening just under the water’s surface and we are a huge part of it having such an impact on life on Earth.

    “Pacifica Australis, through its explosion of colours, complexity and bold appearance, is confronting two environments: trapped between concrete, a relatively modern world and natural forces that support life and sustainability on the planet since its beginning – both are vulnerable and closely related.”

    Take that, anyone who erroneously believes that Bigs aren’t at the apex of haute couture! With time, this tour de force may well become as entwined within the fabric of Australian society as Tewantin’s legendary Big Shell.

    Sadly our afternoon with The Odyssey was ruined by Gordon, who carried on like a big baby after the crab nipped his tiny tootsie.

    Oh, Gordon, don’t you know some of us would pay good money for that?

  • The Giant Sofa, Sydenham, NSW

    The Giant Sofa, Sydenham, New South Wales, Australia

    Yawn! Whatever, guys, I’m burnt out with travelling the globe in an endless quest for Big Things, and can’t even be bothered to get off the lounge. I’m just going to lay here eating popcorn chicken and binge-watching TikTok videos of people eating popcorn chicken.

    The sofa I’ve chosen to take refuge upon is, of course, a giant one, and can be found betwixt the verdant lawns of Sydenham Green. Forget a three-seater Chesterfield, this primrose put-you-up could hold dozens of lounge lizards at once.

    Thankfully I had the entire settee to myself, so was able to stretch out upon its luxurious cushions without the threat of actual human interaction. There’s even a powerpoint welded to the side of the Giant Sofa, so was saved the cloying fear of a dwindling smartphone battery.

    I did reach between the cushions, but unfortunately was unable to find any Big Coins. Maybe they fell down the back of the Googong Giant Chair. If I wasn’t so lazy I’d head down to Canberra to see them, but they’re just sofa away. Whatever!

    The Giant Sofa was designed by a gaggle of local artistes, with its intricate tile mosaic glued into place by the artistic students of Tempe High School. It serves as a memorial to the countless houses bulldozed to make way for the Sydney Airport runway extensions.

    So a few thousand innocent people lost their family homes and were tossed out onto the cold, windswept streets of inner-Sydney, begging for loose change and plummeting further into a nightmare of addiction and depression? Honestly, guys, that’s a small price to pay for such a delightful Big!

  • Almost Once, Sydney, NSW

    Almost Once (The Big Matchsticks), Sydney, New South Wales

    ¡Ay Caramba! Hola, is me, El Grande Gonzales, greatest luchador in all México. As a red-blooded Latino it is in mi carazón to fight, so when I was invited to a big match in Sydney, I fly there straight away. Boy, are my arms tired! Sí, Gonzales also greatest comedian in all México!

    But when I arrive do I find my greatest rival, Juan Carlos Sanchez, the man who once kidnap mi familia and make fun of mi perro? No, señor, it seems I have been forced to chase the wild goose!

    I feel like the buttocks of donkey to discover that the ‘big match’ is just that – a mucho grande matchstick that stands as tall as 47 fried iguanas, or eight metres to you gabachos. To add incest to inquiry, there is another match next to it, and this one is all burnt like mi tío Pedro after he fall asleep cooking tacos. Pedro has never been the same!

    This really boils my beans! Demanding answers, I choke passing gringo until he tell me that this monumento is called Almost Once, and was created by Brett Whitely and his tag team partner Matthew Dillon, and put into place in 1991. If I am to meet this señor Whitely, I will break him open like the piñata!

    Perfect Match(sticks)

    Once mi Latino blood has cooled, amigo, I develop mucho amor for what you Aussies call ‘Big Things’. Mi burning desire to cripple opponents was replaced by a burning desire to learn more about The Big Matchsticks. I discover that Almost Once is made from Blackbutt timber found in the exotic paradise of Grafton, and burnt to a depth of uno inch to achieve its unique look.

    Maybe Pedro should have asked these dudes to burn him. Then maybe el niños wouldn’t burst into tears when they see him in street!

    In fact, The matchsticks look so realistic that hopefully it will stop Sydney’s degenerates from forever asking me for a light. Just use the massive matchsticks, you bobos!

    It (matchs)ticks all the boxes!

    Almost Once was restored in 2017 – wood, paint, the whole enchilada – much as mi knee was restored after falling from cantina roof in 1987 after too much tequila. My retirement has been long overdue, as I can hardly do a top-top Huracánrana these days, so now El Grande Gonzales starts his new career as top reporter for México’s most favourite website – Land of the Bigs!

    Sí, it will cause some light rioting when I next enter the Arena México and lecture the crowd for hours about Ploddy the Dinosaur and Lefty the Pink Buffalo rather than bashing in the brains of the baddies, but tough tortillas!

    No longer seeking to travel the globe delivering beatings, I now swagger around spreading the gospel of Big Things to anyone I meet. Except if I find Juan Carlos Fernandez, ese. You just don’t make fun of a hombre’s perro and get away with it!

  • The Big Avocado, Duranbah, NSW

    The Big Avocado, Duranbah, New South Wales, Australia

    She’s green, she’s a queen, and she needs to be seen – get your sourdough toast ready for the scrumptious Big Avocado. This four-metre marvel can be found at Tropical Fruit World, and is exocarp-ly guac you’ve been looking for.

    The Big Avocado was revealed to a curious public in 1983, promoting what was then known as Avocadoland. Still a working farm, the renamed Fruit World is now home to cafes, markets, restaurants, a small train, and 500 different fruits. Well, 501 when I visited – teehee!

    You’d have avoca-no problem spending an entire avo-noon there, especially as you don’t have to cough up any avoca-dough to enter the plantation. And your friends will be green with envy when the find out where you’ve been, because there’s a second – yes, a second! – Big Avocado only minutes away.

    This roadside rascal seduces motorists by the side of the Pacific Highway, and has been split in half to reveal her delightfully creamy insides and plump, sensual stone. It’s a wonder there aren’t constant pile-ups as rubber-necked drivers try to catch on last heavenly glimpse.

    Needless to say, these two are the perfect condiment to any trip north.

    And they all love happily avo after…

    Avocados come from Central America and, like all Latinas, the Big Avocado has a feisty, yet morally virtuous attitude, with a chubby bottom that begs to be groped. Yes, she’s passionate, romantic and… and… I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. It’s just too much.

    Every time I pass this emerald colossus, my heart hurts. The memories of the original Big Avocado – who lived in nearby Alstonville until being murdered by hateful thugs – wash over me like a pantothenic acid-rich tsunami of hot, gooey sorrow.

    This Avo looks so similar to my former bosom friend, but just can’t fill that avocado-shaped hole in my soul. Yes, she’s a verdant emerald. Yes, she’s fun to take photos with. And yes, her texture is botanically accurate. But will she ever hold me when the hot knives of panic slice their way through my reality?

    This astonishing aguacate will be the highlight of your trip through the north coast of New South Wales. The photos you take with her will remain treasured trinkets, passed down through the generations of your family for centuries to come. But, for me, being near her is like hot death.

    I avocadon’t think I can deal with the pain anymore.

  • The Big Avocado, Alstonville, NSW

    The Big Avocado, Alstonville, New South Wales, Australia (RIP)

    Long before the humble ‘avo’ became the brunch of choice for perpetual children the world over, the Big Avocado was providing comfort and companionship to the damaged kiddies of Australia – including a very young Biggles Leticia Bardot.

    Aw, just look at how gosh darn cute we both were!

    The riboflavin-rich ragamuffin stood sentinel outside the House with No Steps in leafy Alstonville for time immemorial, but was demolished in mysterious circumstances many moons ago. For most, he’s but a fading fantasy. I, however, remember my adventures with the Big Avocado as if they were yesterday.

    When I close my eyes I’m overcome by his sweet, nutty scent, and can feel the warm embrace of his wrinkled skin. The Big Avocado was everything to me, and now he’s gone.

    Do not, however, allow my impish grin and stylishly minimalist board shorts deceive you. For this was a tumultuous period of my life, one that took me to the very brink of desperation and cast me on a treacherous journey through a pitch-black cave of depression and self-loathing.

    Were it not for the unconditional love of the Big Avocado, I may not have survived to become Australia’s leading historian of Big Things and oversized roadside attractions. You would not be reading this website. The world would be a colder, less personable place.

    The Big Avocado saved a generation from the crushing pressure of depression and self-harm. In the end, the only one he was unable to support was himself. 

    Does someone need an avocuddle?

    It would be easy, and somewhat lazy, to say that it was love at first sight. I doubt The Big Avocado even noticed the awkward, shy boy who was dumped at his bulbous bottom by a hard-faced madame from the Department of Community Services. If I, on the other hand, even saw him through my waterfall of tears, the trauma of that day stripped his presence from my mind.

    That awful moment had been a long time coming. A series of increasingly bizarre outbursts had seen me shuffled between almost a dozen foster homes. I was a boy in search of love and safety after years of neglect, and struck out at anyone who tried to help me.

    The only people who understood me were Australia’s Big Things but, sadly, my attempts to be adopted by Charlie the Chicken proved unsuccessful.

    Eventually, after a particularly unpleasant tantrum that was widely covered by the tabloid press of the time, my few worldly possessions were gathered up and I was dispatched to a controversial high security detention centre on the far north coast, where I’d receive the care and supervision I so desperately needed. The silver lining was that, to prevent further flare ups, I was to be imprisoned at the only juvenile delinquent centre with a resident Big Thing.

    The Big Avocado had rescued many a hoodlum from a life of hatred and crime. It was hoped that the same would happen to me.

    You guac my world!

    Those first few months at the House With No Steps rolled by in a chlorpromazine-induced haze of paranoid delusions and electro-shock therapy. My counsellors did their best, but I was falling further into a bottomless abyss of foolishness. Known as a ‘biter’, I was cut off from human contact, locked away in a dingy basement.

    And then, on a crisp winter’s morn, I was strapped to a gurney, my mouth ensconced in a muzzle, and gingerly wheeled out the front gate. Breaking many human rights regulations I was left, drool pouring from my gaping maw and eyes spinning with madness, at the foot of the Avocado.

    I may have been there minutes or I may have been there days, but I clearly remember the point where I looked up and saw that bright green orb hovering in front of me. A calm swept over me that I had never known, and I allowed myself to become one with the Big Avocado.

    “Bigs,” he told me, “you are following the wrong path. Your life has been lost to lunacy and ultraviolence, but is destined to be one of peace and love and really tired puns.”

    I waited for him to order me to kill my tormentors, as my bed had told me earlier that day, but the words never came.

    “My life has no meaning,” I slurred, the heady mixture of muscle relaxants and methylphenidate finally wearing off.

    “Yes it does. You are destined to build the greatest website dedicated to Big Things that the world has ever known. It will bring a new era of harmony to a very troubled world. You will unite people of all races, genders, sexual orientations and body shapes with your unabashed enthusiasm for oversized roadside attractions.”

    Of course, this was many years before the internet was invented, so I might be misremembering the conversation, but that’s pretty much the gist of it.

    And they all lived happily avo after

    No longer a twisted creature brimming with vulgarity and loathing, I took to wearing pink short-shorts and mincing around in a flamboyant fashion. My days were spent chatting with the Big Avocado, who became my spiritual guide, muse and – all too briefly – romantic partner.

    Unmuzzled and uncaged, I was even allowed to visit other Big Things in the region, such as the Big Prawn and the Big Pineapple. My life became one of joy and wonder, and it was all thanks to that spherical sweetheart by the front gate.

    When I was finally released from detention, the Big Avocado was there to bid me adieu. He glowed with pride, and we embraced through a flurry of tears.

    “Go out into the world, Bigs,” he told me. “Go out into the world and spread a little magic. Bring a little happiness to those who need it the most.”

    “I love you, Avocado,” I wept.

    “I love you too, Bigs,” he replied. They were the words I’d waited a lifetime to hear. We would never see each other again.

    By the time I returned to the House With No Steps 30 years later, it had been transformed into the flourishing Summerland Farm, and there was no sign of my friend. I like to think that, after decades spent saving young lives, he’d finally taken some time out for himself, enjoying retirement on a farm somewhere in the sunshine.

    Most likely, he was pulled down and tossed into the garbage. I prefer not to think about it. There is an imposter nearby, but he doesn’t have the presence, the heart, of the original. Just knowing he’s there hurts.

    Wherever he is, the Big Original Avocado will live on forever in my heart, and within the hearts of so many juvenile delinquents. He rescued me from myself. I’ll always love you, my friend.

  • Klaws Kinski, Tweed Heads, NSW

    Klaws Kinski, Tweed Heads, New South Wales, Australia

    A single, trembling chela drew me closer. A set of bulbous eyes crawled across my lithe body. Shivers ran down my spine and, for the briefest of moments, I contemplated following my deepest carnal urges. Then reason returned and I struggled against the advances of the massive crustacean.

    Klaws Kinski, with his movie star good looks and bad boy swagger, was the sort of enormous crab who drives all the boys wild. So why did I find myself pulling away from his powerful grip?

    “Bigs, relax babe, is 2022,” Klaws gurgled in his syrupy Eastern European accent. “Nobody shocked by same-sex relationship anymore. Especially not here in Tweed Head.”
    “Firstly, Klaws, I’ll thank you not to assume my gender,” I replied, pushing away his powerful propodus. “But it’s not that.”

    “So is because I am crab? Bigs, I thought you were more open-minded than this. I mean, I am not the first oversized sea creature you’ve been with.”
    “You leave the Big Prawn out of this,” I snapped. “What we had was very special and he remains an important decapod in my life. If I’m going to be honest, it won’t work out between us because…”

    “Because of what, Bigs?” Klaws snapped, flexing his unguis. He had a reputation for being an intense, erratic and intimidating crab, but even I was shocked by his behaviour. “Because of what, you big baby?”

    “It’s because you’re only half a crab, Klaws. Your head, thorax and hind legs are painted onto the side of a barn.”
    “What are you trying to say, Bigs?”
    “You’re a billboard with pincers, Klaws. You’re not a Big Thing at all. Now get your filthy – yet juicy and delicious – fingers off me.”

    Klaws, but no cigar

    Despite being several thousand times the size of a regular mud crab, Klaws suddenly seemed very small indeed. I’d like to say I’d never seen him looking so flat, but come on, he’s mostly a two-dimensional drawing, so that’s just how he is.

    I turned my back to his deranged muttering, figuring that I would console myself with an informative and fun crab catching tour or or a plate of shuckin’ delicious oysters drenched in French shallot vinaigrette from the nearby Oyster Shed.

    But something made me turn back. Klaws is capable of anything – what if my harsh words had caused him to self-harm? He may have even found solace in the alcoholism that had made him the most reviled roadside attraction to come out of the legendary Natureworks studios.

    I should’ve known better. Within minutes of telling me I was the only one he had eight eyes for, Klaws had already moved on. There he was with a group of young Korean tourists clasped within his burly grip, posing for a selfie.

    He sautéed them with the same saccharine words used to lure me in – all “I’m crayfish for you” and “Do you want to see my love mussel?” At that moment I realised that a crustacean like Klaws Kinski, even when slathered in a rich garlic sauce, can never truly feel love.

    It is true, after all, that crabs have no heart.

  • 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!

  • The Big Motorcycle, Mooball, NSW

    The Big Motorcycle, Mooball, New South Wales, Australia

    Moo Moove over, because there’s a really cool motorbike coming through! Permanently parked across the road from the Moo Moo Roadhouse, this super-sized superbike is three times the height of the one Wayne Rainey rode to the MotoGP world championship in 1992.

    Yessir, this replica Yamaha YZR500 is nigh-on identical to the one made famous by the legendary American, with everything from the spring forks to the rear-wheel shock absorber on display – just a little larger than you may remember.

    Thanks, Wikipedia. I know nothing about pushbikes, so you helped me sound like a real boy!

    Bikies and less intimidating members of society alike can often be found lined up in the main street of Mooball to take a selfie with The Big Motorcycle, which is every bit as scrumptious as the range of freshly-cooked schnitzels and burgers found within the roadhouse. And the milkshakes? To die for, which is no surprise in a place called Mooball!

    There’s plenty of motorcycling memorabilia, which fans will find wheelie interesting. Personally, I couldn’t tell Mick Doohan from Mick Not-Doohan-Nothin’, so it didn’t appeal to me, but I appreciated the gesture.

    The Bike’s owner, the charismatic Mark Murnane, can hardly handlebar his excitement at owning his own Big Thing.

    “This bike is very unique,” Mr Murnane (yes, that’s his surname!) told a bewildered crayon-pusher from The Daily Telegraph. “It’s done the rounds in 1993 for the Grand Prix, then the Sydney Ducati store bought it and had it as a display before it went to the Queensland Motorcycle Museum.”

    Geez, he must be pretty tyred by now!

    The Ride of Your Life

    Despite its enviable size, this motorbike couldn’t outrun the law. Until 2014 The Big Motorcycle featured sponsorship for icky cigarette company Marlboro, just like the delightfully powerful two-wheeler he was modelled after. Then the boys in blue rolled into town and ordered it to be taken down.

    “It’s just crazy,” Mr Murnane wept. “I tried to explain to them that we don’t sell cigarettes in the Moo Moo Roadhouse; we sell coffee and food, and have a museum and antique store. I also tried explaining the bike is a replica, purchased from a museum, but they said it breaks the law, so we’re going to do what they’ve asked.”

    So now, instead of a sticker advertising cancer sticks, there’s a sign for the Roadhouse, which is cute enough to get your motor runnin’!

    Even without his naughty tattoo, the Big Motorcycle oozes testosterone. He does have a gentler side, though – just look at his wee little training wheels!

    Sadly, it’s not possible to jump on top of the Big Motorcycle but, trust me, that’s probably for the best. I’ve had my heart broken by enough bad biker boys to know that they’re nothing but trouble.

    Only one question remains; the bike’s in Mooball, so why is it a Yamaha and not a Cow-asaki?

    After more two-wheeled fun?

    If you prefer classic bikes, why not saddle up for Nabiac’s Big Motorcycle. If, like me, you’re startled by the sound of motors, you might prefer The Big Bicycle at Chullora or The Man on the Bike up in Tallebudgera. Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with being bike-curious 😉

  • The Big Marlin, Iluka, NSW

    The Big Marlin, Iluka, New South Wales, Australia

    The old man’s hands belied their age as he nimbly manoeuvred the thawing prawn onto the hook; in through the head and out through the belly, as always. I feigned disgust, of course, but the process fascinated me.

    “Next time, Bigs, you’ll be baiting your own hook,” he said in his usual brusk tone, then handed over the rod and reel. Our eyes and smiles caught for a fleeting moment, then I sent the bait sailing into the tepid ocean. A plonk, a ripple, then nothing but the sound of water lapping against the dock.

    A geriatric and a pre-pubescent, two beings at opposite ends of troubled lives, sitting peacefully at the edge of the world, waiting for a fish.

    The vagrant was the only one who understood me. Counsellors pretended to care, the other boys in my high security mental health facility sometimes offered a warped corruption of companionship. But this pitiful creature with unruly hair and a beard like a banksia bush was the only one who really got me.

    A loner like me, the hobo rarely talked about his wretched past, but he didn’t need to. The pain was projected across his rugged face; the nights spent under bridges echoed in his words; the loss of humanity and respect reflected in the lamentable way he walked.

    Who knows, maybe I was the only one who actually got him.

    All life folds back into the sea

    “You know,” I said, shattering the silence, “they say there’s a fish the size of a car out at Manilla. He has a top hat and everything! Maybe we could run away and see him together.”

    “Hey muscles, you’re scaring the fish away,” snapped the vagabond, feigning annoyance once again. I smiled to myself, content in my knowledge that it was simply his way of showing affection. Exhibiting love and admiration can feel like chewing razor blades for people like us.

    “We can’t catch fish every day,” I whispered glumly, wanting to lay a reassuring hand upon his shoulder but knowing that would likely trigger one of his infamous ‘freak outs’. “Maybe you’ll catch the eye of a pretty lady on the way home.”

    “Squirt, I don’t have a home. I live in a bed made of milk crates behind Clint’s Crazy Bargains. Now make yourself useful and go get me a box of wine. And none of that fancy stuff. Last time you got me a rosé and – whilst, yes, it was delightfully fruity with an earthy, somewhat nutty aftertaste – the other tramps beat me quite severely because of it.”

    My heart raced as I waited for the moment when he handed over a few disheveled notes and I would have a rare instant of human contact as our hands met.

    That moment never came so, with a hollow heart, I set off to find a pocket to pick on my way to the bottle shop. I would’ve done anything for that street urchin.

    The August sun hung low by the time I returned with a five-litre box of Sunnyvale. Mist was clawing at the dock. In the distance, a lone seagull cried. The drifter was nowhere to be seen.

    The past seems realer than the present to me now

    Sitting cross-legged on the weathered dock with only the treasured box of wine for company, I waited for my friend to return. The languid sun sunk solemnly beneath the waves, and a pale crescent moon took its place.

    The night scraped its icy fingers across my bare legs, but I didn’t leave my post. My friend, I knew, would return. If not for the wine, then for our zesty conversation and abundance of mutual respect.

    But he never did. Over the following months I would regularly wait for him by the water, dreaming of the moment when we would be reunited. My visions were so vivid that I could smell the prawns on his calloused fingers, and feel his whiskers upon my chin.

    In time I was sent to another part of the state to run out my days in another care facility. As they drove me away I stared out the window through a sheet of tears, seeing only the abandoned dock.

    Someday soon, my sins will all be forgiven

    To this day, I can’t walk past a bait shop without breaking down as memories of my friend wash over me. Well, except for when I went to Iluka Bait & Tackle, because there’s a massive marlin out the front and it’s absolutely fantastic!

    The festive fish is, apparently, based on an actual marlin caught by one of the locals two or three decades ago. He’s since become a beloved icon of the beachside village of Iluka. When I arrived the bait shop was empty, with nary a tackle box or garish lime-and-orange fishing shirt to be found.

    Feelings of abandonment wrapped their frozen tendrils around my throat but, thankfully, the owner Ross Deakin wandered over to assure me that the shop had simply relocated down the street.

    “But what will happen to the Big Marlin?” I asked, my top lip trembling 

    “Bigs, I’ll take it home and put it up in the living room before it goes in the bin. I might get in trouble with the missus, but it’d be worth it!”

    “Keep your family close, Ross,” I implored the owner, as he backed away cautiously. “You never know when you’ll lose them. One minute you’ll be violently robbing a pensioner to pay for a few litres of barely-drinkable plonk, the next…”

    “Bigs, I really need to get going.”

    “Ross, wait,” squealed, allowing a single tear to roll down my cheek. “You haven’t, by chance, seen a world-weary traveller, have you? An unshaven mess of a man, wrapped head to toe in rags of the poorest quality, bathed in the odour of prawns, vulgar white wine and desperation.”

    “Bigs, take another look at the Big Marlin. You might find what you’re looking for.”

    We contemplate eternity beneath the vast indifference of heaven

    As my new friend Ross sauntered off to deal with other business, I cast my gaze one more upon the gilled wonder. His elongated beak and resplendent fins demanded attention, but there was something more.

    Within the sheen of his bulbous belly I saw the haunted eyes and unkempt appearance of the man I had been seeking for so many years. I had, without realising it, become the hobo. My seemingly endless search was over.

    After bidding adieu to the marvellous Big Marlin, I dragged my bones away to sit once more by Australia’s rugged east coast, look out upon the brine, and ponder the meaning of it all beneath a weary canopy of eternal stars.

  • 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.

  • Cunningham’s Bananas, Coffs Harbour, NSW

    Cunningham's Bananas, Coffs Harbour, New South Wales, Australia

    Coffs Harbour is the town built on bananas – quite literally. The bendy yellow wonders are so abundant that the locals have been making their houses out of banana peels and leaves for years.

    Ripe that smile off your face! It’s a berry serious safety issue and has led to a bunch of serious accidents over the years.

    The upshot is that the good folk of Coffs have erected a number of temples to their favourite fruit. Worshippers flock to the world famous Big Banana in their millions, but it’s just potassi-one of many prodigious plantains on the menu.

    Cunningham’s Bananas rest happily by the Pacific Highway south of town. They enjoy the ample sunshine and steady stream of customers who drop into the shop of the same name to say, ‘yellow’. They’ve really curved out a niche in the market!

    The fruit shop beneath the Big Bunch is currantly the best in the area, but that mangoes without saying. The range is sub-lime, the prices mandarin-credible. Get sprout of the house and visit today. And yes, I practice what I peach!

    The big bunch of bananas originally lived in nearby Sawtell. When the town was bypassed a few decades ago, they split for their current location. A trip to the region is always a fruitful endeavour, with the Big Golden Dog and Big Beehive just a Coff, skip and a jump away.

    Seedless to say, I’m sure you’ll find them all a-peel-ing! There’s just so much to keep you a-Musa-d on the Banana Coast! Have fun!

    My best friend and muse, Gordon Shumway was so worn out after a big morning with these yella fellas, that he had to have a ’nana nap afterwards!

  • The Big Beehive, Urunga, NSW

    The Big Beehive, The Honey Place, Urunga, New South Wales, Australia

    Sugar
    Oh, honey, honey
    You are my Big Beehive
    And you got me wanting you

    For an adventure that’ll leave you buzzing, visit the sweetest place on the NSW North Coast – the Big Beehive!

    This spiracle of modern architecture stands four metres tall and serves as the entranceway to bee-loved local business the Honey Place. No need to comb the surroundings, because it’s easy to find at the southern entrance to cosmopolitan Urunga

    The Honey Place has been pollen in visitors since 1983, and can be a real hive of activity when tour groups swarm in. It’s possible to bumble around the sprawling facility for hours, and you might even see the workers harvesting honey. They’re real keepers!

    The gift shop is always open for insection, and the prices won’t sting, with plenty of souvenirs for less than an an-tenner. There’s even a brief yet fascinating video on the lifecycle of bees – and put your honey away, it’s free!

    So popular is the Beehive that it’s been visited by a slew of celebrities, including pop singer Sting, Golden Girls star Bee Arthur, hard rock band The Hives and reality TV sensation Honey Boo Boo

    Nectar time you’re in the area, why not treacle yourself to a trip to the Big Bowerbird, Cunningham’s Bananas, the ever-ripe Big Banana, or the loyal Big Golden Dog. The Mid-North Coast really is a hive of Big Thing activity!

    I hate to drone on, but the Big Beehive really does need to be queen to be bee-lieved!

  • The Big Bowerbird, Raleigh, NSW

    The Big Bower Bird, Raleigh, New South Wales

    The benevolent bowerbird is nature’s great recycler, borrowing anything bright and blue to beautify his abode.

    Bonza bloke Nick Warfield is the mid-north coast’s great recycler, borrowing anything bright and blue to build the beautiful Big Bowerbird. The metal marvel has been lovingly pieced together from door handles, garden equipment, bike parts and even a few fans. I assume Nick used a crow bar and a set of needle-nosed flyers to get the job done!

    Fittingly, you can find him lurking outside the Bowerhouse Recycling Centre in rural Raleigh (the Bower Bird, that is, not Nick Warfield). Rust me, you could spend bowers and bowers there!

    The Big Bowerbird brings a bit of culture back to a tip to the trip, which has gained a reputation for being a rubbish way to spend an afternoon. In fact, it’s the perfect place to visit on a junket!

    “Thrown away objects offer me constant invitation,” a passionate Nick told Arts Mid North Coast. “Their inherent energy is stored within rust and decay, kinks and worn surfaces, warped shapes and frayed edges. A history of utility.

    “Wastefulness is an ugly luxury we cannot afford. The act of creation far outweighs the act of consumption. My art projects an attitude where waste is an opportunity to embrace innovation, imagination and humanity. I have learnt to scrounge, sift, recycle, scrap, pilfer, dumpster dive, trawl, dredge and reincarnate. I am a sculptor, surfer and groover living in Bellingen.”

    Couldn’t have said it better myself, Nick!

    Bower before your master!

    The Big Bowerbird fluttered into the centre in 2014, and has inspired a generation of youngsters to save the planet by recycling their used cans. With any luck they’ll stop dancing on Tik Tok long enough to craft their own Big Things out of junk. But really, that’s something that can be enjoyed by people of any garb-age.

    Whilst the Bowerhouse Centre is only open a few days a week, the Big Bird is available for a photo op ever day, so you can visit when-feather the mood strikes you.

    Far from being Australia’s only scrappy chappy, the Big Bowerbird is joined by other second-hand stunners Chickaletta, the Big Kookaburra and Murray the Cod. They just go to show that one man’s trash is another man’s Big Thing!

    I’d love to go on, but I’m worried I’ll trash my reputation by recycling my jokes!

  • 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!

  • The Big Bowl, Lake Cathie, NSW

    The Big Bowl, Lake Cathie, New South Wales

    The delicate clink of plastic on plastic raises the crowd to a raucous crescendo, and my heart flutters as a sturdy set of hands fall upon my youthful shoulders. Peter, an older boy who has taken me under his wing and vowed to guide me through the cutthroat world of amateur youth lawn bowls, leans in a little closer.

    “Great shot, Bigs,” Peter whispers. “You’re just one point away from being crowned the Woy Woy Bowling Club Junior Champion – Male Division. I believe in you, I admire you. Now roll that bowl and send the crowd home happy.”

    I gasp for air in a desperate attempt to calm my trembling fingers, and struggle to focus upon the jack in the distance. My admirers – thousands of them, surely – are roaring and dancing, but I hear nothing but the thumping of my heart and the sweet words rolling out of Peter’s supple lips. I crouch, lean forward, and guide the bowl towards its destiny.

    Nightmare at the Bowlo

    Awakening with a scream, I sink back upon my sodden sheets and stare in horror at the ceiling fan spinning languidly above my sweat-heavy brow. I have, mercifully, been pulled from the hallucination, but I know only too well what would have come next. The tragic trajectory of the shot, the silence of the audience, the ruthless reverberation of the ball plunging into the ditch. And then nothing. For the longest time, nothing.

    After vomiting from angst, I looked up to see my opponent, Simon Wong, was being chaired off the green, clutching the trophy that had been destined for me. My soul yearned for my loss, but the worst was yet to come. There beneath Simon Wong, holding him aloft with a smile wider than anyone’s, was Peter. My Peter.

    “I always knew you could do it, Simon Wong,” Peter beamed, sending red-hot razor blades of torment deep into my shattered psyche.

    I was laughed out of Woy Woy. My lucrative sponsorship with Diadora was annulled. I never lawn bowled again.

    A real jack of all trades

    The Lake Cathie Bowl has been rounding up visitors since 1975, but I’ve always resisted his roguish charms due to the weeping wounds of my childhood ridicule. However, after a recent unpleasant – and really quite violent – exchange with a chum who suggested I join him for a session of barefoot bowls, my therapist Clive suggested that I confront my greatest fear.

    “Dying alone?” I asked him.
    “No, Bigs,” Clive sighed. “Lawn bowls. You must seek out the largest bowling ball in the land. I believe you can find it in -”

    “My friend,” I snapped, “I may have borderline schizoid personality disorder with some rather extreme narcissistic tendencies, but I’m not an idiot. I know that he resides out front of Club Lake Cathie, just 15 kilometres south of picturesque Port Macquarie.

    “I know that planning for the Big Bowl began in 1973, when club President Reg Ellery decided that a bowling ball of epic proportions was the only way to lure in more members. And of course I am aware that, when plans to have the ball made by a professional fell through, Reg asked his neighbour Stan Kanaar – yes, the well-regarded jeweller and engineer – to build it.”

    “But how did he achieve such a realistic and symmetrical representation of a regulation lawn bowls bowling ball?” wailed Clive. “How, Bigs, tell me that!”

    I snatched a conveniently-located newspaper from my purse, struck a dramatic pose with one foot abreast a chair, and began to read as Clive sat there with mouth agape.

    Building a better bowling ball

    “Stan Kanaar described the process thusly,” I yodelled. “‘Operating from the centre, I fixed a jig which went right around the bowl. I plastered as much cement mix as I could on the top and each side, and kept rolling it as each section dried, using the jig all the time. I then called in the plasterer to give it a finishing touch.’”

    “And then?” Clive demanded.

    “The Bowl was left to dry for a few weeks, before being carried by crane into a paddock, where a further two layers of cement were added. The crane driver was so mesmerised by what he saw that he refused to charge for his services, and even convinced a buddy to build the garden around the Bowl when it was finally loaded into place.”

    For the longest time, the only sound in the therapist’s office was the ceaseless ticking of Clive’s antique cuckoo clock. Then, the diminutive therapist jumped up, snatched his keys and dragged me towards the door.

    “Bigs, a visit to the Big Bowl is exactly what you need to overcome your feelings of abandonment and lifelong failure. And, if it’s as grand as you claim, it’s also the thing to help me deal with my spiralling jigsaw puzzle addiction. I’ll drive.”

    And that’s how I ended up confronting the demons of my past.

    Keep rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, rollin’

    The Big Bowl measures 1.907 metres tall, with a circumference of 5.983 metres and a total mass of two tonnes. Upon its unveiling on November 16, 1975, Reg was swarmed by Big Thing fanatics as he gave an emotional and, at times, rambling speech.

    “It is bound to be a big attraction with passing motorists,” Reg wept. “I think many visitors will want to be photographed next to the Big Bowl!” The fact I had to endure three agonising hours in a line reaching halfway to Port Macquarie to have a happy snap proves Reg to be a very astute man indeed.

    As the photo shoot drew to a close and the sun melted behind the mountains like butter on a freshly-baked scone, Clive suggested we enjoy a sumptuous yet surprisingly wallet-friendly Chinese meal at the club’s legendary Waterview Restaurant.

    Passing by the restaurant’s window, I was frozen mid-step as I recognised two unmistakably handsome men inside. There, sharing a bowl of Rainbow Beef was Simon Wong and Peter. No longer my Peter; the contented silence and mirrored grins inside the restaurant made it clear that he was now Simon Wong’s Peter.

    I was heartbroken, of course, but more than anything I was simply happy for their happiness.

    Am I not kitty enough?

    “We can get some poke bowls on the way home,” caring Clive whispered, gently walking me away from the Big Bowl forever.

    Nary a word was spoken on the long, bumpy drive back from the Big Bowl. All that needed to be said had been said. As that big ol’ silvery moon watched over us, we weaved our way home, knowing life would never be the same again.

    As Clive pulled up outside my halfway house, he allowed his emotions to take over and clutched to his heaving bosom. A single tear sparkled like a diamond upon his rubenesque cheek.

    “Bigs, I’ve always found your unfettered devotion to Big Things to be a cause for serious concern. But after seeing the Lake Cathie Bowl, I’ve come to the conclusion that it is those who haven’t dedicated their lives to oversized roadside attractions who are the true dangers to society.”

    “Clive, my friend,” I sighed, “I think we had a real breakthrough today. “

  • 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!

  • The Big Bow and Arrow, Lake Innes, NSW

    The Big Bow and Arrow, lake Innes, New South Wales

    You’ll be quivering with excitement during an encounter with this archer-eally large Bow and Arrow. Just look at the size of that cock feather!

    You can find the Big Bow and Arrow outside the beloved Hastings Valley Archery Club, who hold regular open days to target new members. Apparently the shaft-erparties are not to be missed! Let me know if you’d like to give it a shot, because I can probably pull a few strings for you.

    This stunning set of sports equipment is certainly sharp-looking, and the design is surprisingly arrow-dynamic. The only drawback is that it would take a man the size of the Big Knight to handle it.

    Speaking of handles, there’s a fairly large one just down the road in Kew.

    It might be drawing a long bow, but this amazing arrow hits the mark – and that’s not a load of old bullseye!

  • The Drip, Cowarra, NSW

    The Drip, Cowarra Dam, New South Wales

    H2-oh-my-gawd-it’s-awesome! The mesh-merizing Big Drip stands a pants-wetting 4.5 metres tall and can be found by the banks of the mouthwatering Cowarra Dam. The Drip made a splash when she was unveiled to a curious public in 2005, and has been making waves in the community ever since.

    Designed by aqueous artiste Peter Allison and crafted from rainless steel, the Drip is one of the most unique Big Things I’ve ever o-seen. She was conceived as a celebration of the majesty of the dam and its water, and it’s not hard to drink in the significance of this cultural icon.

    “The concept is designed to draw the attention of the viewer to the essence of what the dam site is all about – water in its micro and macro forms,” a highly-enlightening plaque states. “It is hoped that the viewer will reflect upon the enormity of our dependence on this precious resource.”

    I’d suggest that Big Things are the only true ‘precious resource’ we have a dependence on, so we’ll have to agree to disagree.

    The lovingly-landscaped littoral of the levee is a peaceful and picturesque spot to stop for a light lunch. There are modern BBQ facilities, verdant lawns, and dozens of informative signs sharing a wealth of knowledge on the area’s rich history.

    There’s even a series of stunning steel cut-outs of native Aussie animals, and kitschy boomerang-shaped picnic seats, so there’s something for everyone. Yes, Shane, even you.

    It was hoped The Drip would open the floodgates for more Big Things near Cowarra however, with the exception of the Big Bow and Arrow, that’s failed to eventu-hydrate. But that’s all water under the bridge now.

    Why not go with the flow and lake shore to visit this wet wonder – you’d have to be a real drip to miss out!

  • 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 Bicycle, Chullora, NSW

    The Big Bicycle, Chullora, New South Wales Sexy cyclist man with smile and handsome outfit

    This supersized scooter celebrates his 25th birthday in 2022, so it really let the air out of my tyres to find him discarded amongst a thicket of overgrown bushes in a rough part of Chullora.

    Although, given his location in Western Sydney, the only things more appropriate than a Big Abandoned Pushbike would be a Big Meth Pipe or a Big Single Mother.

    Ah, stereotypes, aren’t they fun!

    There are still signs of the Big Bicycle’s former glory, with his quirky hexagonal wheels barely visible from street level. Sadly, I couldn’t get near him for a reassuring cuddle, for fear of being wounded by a venomous snake or stepping on a carelessly-disposed syringe.

    Maybe I’m being velodromatic, but in all bike-lihood this Big won’t be around much longer, and that’s a wheelie big chain… I mean shame. Be puncture-al if you want to see the Bike before it’s too late!

    You can’t handlebar the truth!

    The Big Bike was assembled by Messrs John Ridley, Phillip Becker, and Andy Lugiz in 1997. At nine metres long and six metres tall, he’s far too large for a mere mortal to ride, but just right for the Big Gold Panner!

    He lived outside the Chullora Re-Cycling Centre until it rode off into the sunset a few gears ago, leading to this calamity. I attempted to contact a spokes-person about the Bike’s future, but even my super-cute cycling tunic and matching headgear couldn’t help me find answers.

    I did get some eager wolf-whistles from a group of high-spirited tradies, however. Although perhaps they were simply voicing their support for the Big Bicycle’s refurbishment in an unusual way.

    If you prefer petals to pedal, try the Big Flower! Or for a more cosmopolitan experience, roll on over to France to visit Le Gros Vélo. Cycling through Sacramento? A Life’s Ride is waiting!

    Flirting with bike-sexuality? Then Wo-Man might be just the Big for you!

    What’s happened to the Big Bicycle is a national tragedy, but serves as a further reminder that life is fleeting and needs to be savoured. The Bike is still there – for now – so don the lycra and set off on Le Tour de Chullora. You’re sure to have a peloton of fun!

  • The Big Motorcycle, Nabiac, NSW

    The Big Motorcycle, Nabiac, New South Wales Handsome, refined gentleman with large motorbike

    Get your motor runnin’
    Head out on the Pacific Highway
    Looking for a huge motorbike
    That will really make your day

    Yeah, the folks of Nabiac made it happen
    Their National Motorcycle Museum is ace
    Enough room for everyone to visit at once
    Eight hundred classic bikes you’re not allowed to race

    Normal-sized bikes are frightenin’
    Almost make me chunder!
    But if that bike’s a Big Thing
    I just stare at it in wonder!

    Yeah, Brian and Margaret Kelleher made it happen
    Their National Motorcycle Museum’s the place
    If you don’t go there you’re a dunce
    Light refreshments to stuff in your face

    Like a true Aussie child
    We were born
    Born to be wild (for Big Things)
    You’d need to climb so high
    To get up on this ride

    Born to be wild (for Big Things)
    Born to be wild (for Nabiac’s Big Motorcycle)

    Get your motor runnin’
    Head up the coast today
    Looking for a huge motorbike
    Photos are free, put your wallet away

    Yeah, motorcycle enthusiasts across the country made it happen
    By donating choppers to fill the space
    Some tough bikies told me more than once
    That my bright pink Peugeot Tweet’s a disgrace

    Like a true Aussie child
    We were born
    Born to be wild (for Big Things)
    The Big Motorcycle will make you sigh
    The folks of Nabiac must be full of pride

    Born to be wild (for Big Things)
    Born to be wild (for the largest motorcycle imaginable)

  • The Rock, North Arm Cove, NSW

    The Rock, North Arm Cove, New South Wales, Australia
    A very young Bigs Bardot with The Rock. Circa 1997

    This 1/40th scale Ayers Rock was, by most measures, a full-scale failure. Poorly constructed and awkwardly located, the undersized Uluru was designed to offer an authentic outback experience, but instead presented an insight into the dark underbelly of Big Thing culture.

    The Rock fell into disrepair shortly after construction in the early ’90s, becoming the butt of jokes for generations of travellers along the Pacific Highway. Mercifully, perhaps, he was engulfed in flames in 2018, bringing to an end one of the weirdest Bigs ever.

    It was only after the final embers had died out, and the charred skeleton of this roadside oddity was left to fester in the hot Australian sun, that many people realised what they’d lost. Whether they loved him or loathed him, The Rock at North Arm Cove was a part of so many people’s lives.

    This, dear readers, is the tragic story of The Rock.

    Between a Rock and a hard place

    We have the Leyland Brothers to thank for this quirky attraction. For non-Aussies, Mike and Mal were a couple of lunatics who raced around the country bothering animals, recording their reactions, then putting it on television.

    (For the younger folks, television is how us boomers killed the empty hours of our lives before Tik Tok came along.)

    The boys pooled their TV money to open Leyland Brothers World in 1990, with The Rock as its centrepiece. Whilst I’ve always been fond of it, this lovable lump was never a close reproduction of the real deal. It was little more a mesh shell shaped a bit like Uluru and blasted with concrete, but its dodginess was always part of the appeal.

    Disappointingly it wasn’t possible to climb to the top of The Rock, but that might’ve been a land rights issue.

    There was also a 1/40th scale Sydney Harbour Bridge on site, which I believe is still standing and shouldn’t be confused with the Mini Harbour Bridge down in Sydney. That’s about all there was to a park labelled ‘the Crappiest Place on Earth’ by detractors. Things were about to get very rocky indeed.

    Love is not in the Ayers

    Kiddies were hardly bouldered over by the park’s olde-timey moviehouse that played Leyland Brothers documentaries on repeat. The museum, whilst boasting an impressive collection of Mal’s safari suits, was never going to drag them away from their Game Boys.

    It was, perhaps, a tactical error to build a fun park without any fun. Leyland Brothers World was also in a poor location; North Arm Cove is a remote spot three hours north of Sydney, meaning it was too far for day trips, with little tourist infrastructure nearby.

    Dwindling patronage and the Brothers’ bankruptcy was inevitable. It seemed nobody wanted to travel all over the countryside to Leyland Brothers World.

    The Park was sold in 1992 for just $800,000 – a fraction of what the boys had put into it. A few years later, the site was bought by the Great Aussie Bush Camp, with thousands of lucky schoolkids struggling through their nutritionally-bereft meals within The Rock’s rotting carcass.

    I was one of those children, and The Rock offered brief respite from the constant bullying I was subjected to after wetting the bed on my first night of camp. But still, look how happy I was in that photo up top – couldn’t you just pinch my chubby cheeks!

    Mike and Mal never spoke again. Mike passed away in 2009, having never resolved his differences with his brother or returned to The Rock. When I contacted Mal for his opinion on his bonkers Big Thing, he made it clear this was something I shouldn’t ask a Leyland Brother.

    If you smell what The Rock is cooking

    When The Rock burnt down on July 31 of 2018 due to an electrical fault, the story led news bulletins across Australia. The inferno dominated social media, and many who hadn’t stopped by in years turned up to leave flowers by his side. We truly don’t know what we have until it’s gone.

    Today there’s little sign of The Rock, with no memorial to signify what was and will never be again.

    For years I loved to tell people I’d spent the afternoon with my good mate The Rock. They’d inevitably assume I’d been on a man date with one of my brawny Hollywood buddies, and would be shocked but impressed when I told them I’d actually been with a scale replica of the world’s largest and most culturally-significant inselberg.

    That joke doesn’t work as well these days, and not just because of my very public falling out with Dwayne Johnson. It’s a little thing, I guess, but like so many Australians I find myself looking back fondly on The Rock.

    I miss my big, bumpy friend. He was audacious, ludicrous, ugly, beautiful and divisive. The subject of ridicule and admiration in equal measure, he was the best and the worst of Aussie culture all wrapped into one goofy ball. There’ll never be another like The Rock.

    And now he’s gone.

  • Big Joe, Kingswood, NSW

    Knights once roamed the vast plains of Penrith, slaying dragons and making inappropriate comments towards fair maidens. But with a severe shortage of snarling serpents in Sydney’s suburbs and the rise of the #MeToo movement, this silver stud was forced to transition into a new career.

    Meet Big Joe – friendly neighbourhood mechanic and undisputed King of the ‘Wood!

    This great big grease monkey is the star employee at Armour Automotive (aka Twin Camalot), where customers come for an oil change and stay for a photo with the armour-clad cutie. Yes, this swashbuckling sweetheart will pink slip his way into your heart, and you’ll never tyre of him!

    Whilst Joe’s a hardworking fella, he has a brother who’s a real nutter. Of course I’m talking about the magnificent Big Knight, who lives at the Macadamia Castle in Knockrow. But be warned, the two of them might be ar-more than you can handle!

    Clutch Ado About Nothing

    On my quest for the holy grail of Aussie Big Things, I indulged myself with a tour of Kingswood’s cultural landmarks and luxurious car yards. My guide was world-renowned Middle Ages historian/third-year auto-electric apprentice Maddie Eval.

    “Joe harkens from the early 21st century, and likely arrived in the Golden West abreast his trusty steed – probably a 1985 Toyota Camry,” Maddie explained, as she cleaned a dipstick on her pastel tunic. “He appears to have been built from scrap metal by a local mechanic during his spare time, or by a close friend of the auto shop’s owner. Joe is utterly fantastic.”

    “Don’t you mean auto-ly fantastic?” I quipped. “You know, because he’s out the front of a car repair shop.”

    “Joe’s around four metres tall, in a good state of repair, and available to visit even outside business hours,” Maddie gossipped, whilst checking the brake fluid in a 2004 Kia carnival. “Any moment with Joe is time well spent.”

    “Don’t you mean time wheel spent?” I smirked. “You know, because cars have wheels.”

    “Joe lives close to the Western Motorway, not far from the Big Strawberry and the Big Axe,” Maddie demystified, “so a trip to the Blue Mountains – to gasp in wonder at the Big Teapot, for instance – presents a golden opportunity to visit this very unique Big Thing.

    “Don’t you mean a Holden opportunity?” I howled. “You know, like the major automobile manufacturer that recently closed down production in Australia, despite being the inspiration for the Mini Harbour Bridge?”

    “Oh Bigs,” Maddie sighed, whilst refusing my Facebook friend request. “You’re quite exhausting.”

  • Die Große Laterne, Cooma, NSW

    The Big Lantern, Cooma, New South Wales Handsome man with giant lantern

    Guten tag, mein little schnitzels, und willkommen to Miss Heidi’s Austrian Teahouse! Zis is your favourite fräulein Günther von Bigs, here to enlighten you about Die Große Laterne. Ja, I think zat translates to ‘The Big Lantern’ in your wunderbar language.

    Zis niedlich roadside attraction can be found out ze front of zis historic restaurant near Vienna. Nein, I mean Cooma – I always get zose zwei confused!

    Miss Heidi serves a köstlich selection of pancakes, soups, cakes und other traditional Austrian dishes. I spent an enchanting evening cramming bratwurst into my insatiable gullet, und even took on a strudel so large it left me walking like a constipated nilpferd.

    I didn’t even mind when ze chef burnt my schnitzel, as ze smell conjured fantastisch memories of my carefree days as a camp counsellor in schönes Mauthausen. Despite offering a range of activities including kayaking und rock climbing, ze campers rarely cracked a smile. Maybe it was because zey didn’t have a giant lantern to admire?

    Auf wiedersehen, pets!

    Bitte beachten Sie: Entschuldigung for not appearing in my lederhosen und Tirolerhut. I vas returning from die discotheque when my life partner Klaus took this spontaneous foto. Danke, my little currywurst!

  • 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 Fish Head, Khancoban, NSW

    The Big Fish Head, Khancoban, New South Wales Immature man swinging from a giant fish's head

    “Gimme Fish Head” by The Stingray-diators

    Gimme fish head baby
    Gimme fish head like you did just last night
    Ah, ah, ah!

    Even when Khancoban‘s a hundred degrees
    There you are smiling at me amongst the trees
    You stink in the sun, but are still fun
    With no body, you must be dead, are you dead?
    But I don’t care, I love you, Big Fish Head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head

    You have a swing beneath the bones of your back
    You let me hang there as I gobbled a snack
    You whisper sweet things, gimme greetings
    You are my bed, you are my bed
    But best of all, I love you, Big Fish Head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head

    So… Ah say you’ll never be crabbay
    Be lovely like the nearby Yabbay
    ’Cause I’ll come back to play another day!

    Even when Khancoban’s a hundred degrees
    Each time we meet you are so eager to please
    You whisper sweet things, ’cos you’re a Big Thing
    Let’s go to bed, let’s go to bed!
    Because my dear, I love you, Big Fish Head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    You’re a fish head
    The Big Fish Head

    Suck!

  • Gabby the Yabby, Bringenbrong, NSW

    Gabby the Yabby, Bringenbrong, New South Wales Man with hat and large statue of a crayfish

    Howdy pardners, I’m Biggie the Kid, but you can go right ahead and call me the Kutest Kowboy in Khancoban. That’s KKK for short, although for some reason the locals get mighty worked up when I tell ’em that. Yee-haw!

    Yours truly has been steppin’ out with the best-looking girl in the nearby village of Bringenbrong. Naw, not Mary-Sue Nowinski – she never has been the same since that horse kicked her in the head. I’m talkin’ about the incomparable Gabby the Yabby. Dagnabbit, she really is crabtivating!

    Gabby moseyed on into downtown Bringenbrong in 2019, making her home by the banks of the river, yards from the New South Wales – Victoria border. Funnily enough she doesn’t own a TV set, despite having a couple of antennas.

    Since then most of the town’s menfolk (and several of the womenfolk) have had a claws encounter with this dainty decopod. Cruel rumours have been spread that she has crabs, so I’d like to nip that in the bud.

    We did the Lobster Mash

    The cray-ative chaps at Agency of Sculpture (the Big Bogong Moth; the Big Wedge-Tailed Eagle) are responsible for Gabby’s seductive curves and feminine chelipeds. It’s enough to make this ol’ cowboy draw his pistol early, if you get my drift.

    In a pinch, you can climb inside Gabby and use her as shell-ter but I gotta warn you, I’m the jealous type and liable to fill you with lead if that happens. Dance, boy, dance!

    After careful lobstervation I’ve decided Gabby’s the most beautiful crawfish I’ve ever crusta-seen and I’m just cray-zy for her. It sounds like I’m tryin’ to butter her up, but dang me, it’s true.

    Yes, Gabby’s the sort of girl who leaves you begging for mornay, but a simple warning ‘fore I ride off into the sunset – she can be a bit crabby sometimes!

  • The Big Apples, Batlow, NSW

    The Big Apples, Batlow, New South Wales

    Batlow’s got a lovely bunch of apples
    There they are, all standing in a row
    Big ones, bigger ones, some as big as a shed
    Their enormous size draws tourists like flies
    That’s what Bigs Bardot said

    They reckon Batlow is a town built on apples but, after a thorough investigation, I can reveal that most buildings are actually constructed upon concrete foundations. The locals do, however, go wild for a fresh honeycrisp.

    Not only do Batlow’s farmers provide 10% of the country’s total crop (a fact repeated by far more than 10% of the Batlowians I encountered), but there are THREE Big Apples dotted around the picturesque village.

    With only 1,313 residents, that’s one Big Apple per 437.666666667 Batlowians. I like those odds!

    The most prominent is the original Big Apple, an assuming fellow who’s lived just north of town for the past four decades. He’s the size of a small house, but don’t think about going in for a cuddle, because he’s on private land and it’s not possible to get within 100 metres of him. Oh well, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

    Until recently the Apple was barely visible through the flourishing orchards, but they’ve been thinned out in recent years due to fire, so it’s easy to see this scarlet scoundrel. Grab your binoculars and settle in for a big afternoon of apple-gazing!

    The Appleman Cometh

    Wilgro Orchard, a few hundred metres south, is home to a second Big Apple. Alright, it’s only half an apple pasted to a wall, but the owners are good people so I’ll give them a break. After snapping some memorable photos with this Apple, I popped inside for a dollop of Wilgrow’s famous apple chutney and a cheeky glass of their world-renowned cider. You know, just to make sure they’re fresh.

    After Gordon’s performance at the Darkes Forest Apple, we decided it was best for him to stay in the car, but on my way out he gave me the sort of judgemental look that only recovering alcoholics can.

    Halfway through my fifth can of the astonishingly good Batlow Road Cider, a funny little man with a bright red nose and a pronounced lisp wrapped his arms around me and introduced himself as The Appleman. His embrace lasted a little too long, but we were both appreciative of the human contact.

    “Bigs,” he slurred, before taking more than a sip out of my can. “It was January 2020. The flames climbed to the heavens and the wind was hotter than hell. The orange nightmare raged towards Batlow, destroying everything in its path. Houses were lost. Memories were eaten by the flames. But the community came together and fought the fire, standing shoulder to shoulder to beat it back.

    “We saved the Big Apples that day, my handsome friend. All three of them.”
    “And the rest of the village?”
    “I guess so,” shrugged the inebriate. “I only really cared about the Apples.”

    The drunk’s story was so inspirational that I shared about 12 cans of cider with him as we discussed processes that could be implemented to prevent other Big Apples – such as the ones in Tallong, Yerrinbool, Acacia Ridge and Balhannah – falling victim to the folly of bushfire in the future. And whether a polar bear could beat a karate man in a fight.

    Unfortunately I made the unforgivable faux pas of asking for a cup of pear cider.

    “This is an apple town, Bigs,” The Appleman boomed as he threw me into the street. “Don’t you forget it!”

    Core, Blimey!

    Fortunately Gordon – who made it clear he wasn’t angered by my behaviour, just disappointed –  was able to drive me to the third Apple, located a few hundred metres north of town. As he sat in the car calling those he’d wronged during his drunken years, I took a few happy snaps with what the locals call the redheaded stepchild of the Batlow Big Apples. 

    Created for annual Batlow CiderFest, this one’s pretty run down, discoloured, and is only half an apple. If I hadn’t been so drunk on good cider and great conversation, I may not have considered him a Big Thing at all. On the bright side, he’s the only one of the three positioned for a kiss and a cuddle.

    I indulged myself in animated conversation with this Apple until Gordon – capricious as always – dragged me away and threw me in the boot of the car. It was for my own good, really.

    Batlow’s Big Apples are shiny, sultry and seductive. But they’re also too much fun for one afternoon, and the sensory overload of encountering so many oversized fruits in such a short period of time will prove too much for all but the most cold-hearted party pooper.

    My advice is to relax, give yourself plenty of time, and don’t head to Batlow if you’re traveling with a recovering alcoholic alien – they’ll only get in the way of a good time.

  • Bradman’s Bat, Cootamundra, NSW

    Don Bradman's bat and Stumps, Cootamundra, New South Wales

    He’s more than just a Big Bat
    He’s the source of Coota’s pride
    He’s more than just one Big Thing
    He has some stumps by his side
    Fathers take their sons to Bradman’s Bat ’cause they find it’s really, really grand!

    The rustic regional village of Cootamundra has plenty to be proud of, but the locals hold cricket legend Don Bradman closer to their hearts than anything else. And with good reason – the town’s favourite son grew up to become the greatest sportsman the world has ever known, and a hero across the globe.

    The Don was born in Coota in 1908 and, although he moved on to greener pastures as a toddler, his time there set him on the path to greatness. Apparently he was nigh-on unstoppable during his crèche cricket matches and he would’ve been picked for the Cootamundra First XI if the matches didn’t clash with his naptime.

    I’d struggle to explain the difference between a googly and a doosra, but as an Aussie I know just how good Bradman was, and how important he was to this country. It’s a burden that I, as ‘the Bradman of the Big Thing community’, carry today.

    He smashed every record laid out before him, most of which will never be matched. The Don terrorised opposition bowlers, captained Australia to unprecedented success, and carried the hopes of a nation upon his rugged shoulders. But perhaps his greatest achievement was inspiring this wonderful Big Thing.

    Bat’s incredible!

    The Bat and Stumps were erected at Don Bradman Oval during Coota’s Big Thing frenzy of 1975, when The Giant also came to town. Standing eight metres tall, they’re a towering monument to a towering career, and plenty of fun to play cricket in front of if you’re the sporty type. They’re just metres from Don’s birthplace, which now houses a museum dedicated to the great man. Everything in there is normal-sized, though, which is a shame.

    As the ever-delightful Graham Gouldman from 10cc would say, “I don’t like these oversized pieces of cricket equipment – I love them!”

    A nation mourned as one when The Don left us in 2001, and it’s since become a right of passage for Australians to visit the Giant Bat and Stumps to honour him. Sadly, they’ve become run down and are badly in need of a lick of paint – and that’s just not cricket as far as I’m concerned.

    The local tourism board are also hoping to raise money to throw a Big Cricket Ball into the mix. Maybe Alan Davidson could lend them one of his? If you’d like to help out, the girls at the Coota Heritage Centre are more than happy to take your donation and give you some spirited conversation in return.

    All in all, I rate Don’s Bat and Stumps an impressive 99.94 out of 100!

  • The Giant, Cootamundra, NSW

    The Giant, Cootamundra, New South Wales, Australia

    Fee-fi-fo-fum
    Look at me with my massive chum
    He be large and he be hairy
    But the Coota Giant is never scary!

    Now THIS is a Giant worth climbing up a beanstalk for! The Cootamundra Giant is enormous, approachable, fun to take a photo with… and, best of all, he won’t try to gobble you up! But this big boy has a story even larger than his smile, which is certainly saying something.

    The Big, Friendly Giant is an affable chap with a jocular disposition, welcoming visitors to the well-appointed Cootamundra Heritage Centre. He’s also a bit of a scallywag, as he’s eternally pointing towards his crotch. Whether that’s a ‘big thing’ or not, I am not at liberty to say!

    The benevolent behemoth bounded into Coota sometime around 1975 (nobody really remembers when), thanks to a local artiste (nobody really remembers who). He first lurked outside the Giant Supermarket, luring in hordes of fascinated customers and leading to an economic boom in the region not seen since the gold rush.

    Tragically, this fairy tale was to become a horror story. The store’s focus shifted from Giant-related souvenirs and nik-naks, complete with name changes to ‘U-Mark-It’, ‘Half-Case Warehouse’, ‘Payless’, and the ludicrous ‘Food World’. The behemoth was forgotten and left to wither in the merciless Riverina sun.

    His smile, once known as ‘the ray of sunlight that warms Coota’, began to fade. It seemed as if Cootamundra, stepping daintily towards the new millennium, was ready to leave its icon behind. But local florists Allan and Phuong Jenkins weren’t going to let that happen, buying The Giant in the early-80s and relocating him outside their shop.

    I’m not dande-lyin’ when I say things have been pretty rosy since then.

    He’s been everywhere, man!

    Even though he’s the most popular chap in town, The Jolly Green Giant isn’t allowed into any of Coota’s pubs – because he’s legless! Ernie the Shepparton Giant suffers a similar disability, so maybe they can form a support group or something. Despite this setback, he’s surprisingly well-traveled and has even completed a lap of Australia.

    Alan, known for being as fit as a fiddle, participated in a Round-Australia fundraising marathon in 1985. His support vehicle had some spare space after the Dencorub and spare socks were loaded up, so Alan strapped The Giant in and took him for a ride around Oz.

    Crowds flocked in their thousands to watch The Giant roll by. Not even the Queen, Pope or Guy Sebastian commanded such crowds. As a toddler, I was crushed by a baying mob as we chased the Giant down the dusty main street of my hometown. The physical trauma healed with time, but the mental scars shall last a lifetime.

    The Jenkins family donated The Giant to the people of Coota in 2014, so that generations to come could bask in his glory. He was fully restored by Robert Newman, whose brother Jim completed the original paintwork all those decades ago. Well, Mother Teresa did say that the family that paints enormous roadside attractions together, stays together.

    If you’re wondering how The Giant stays so trim, it’s by playing cricket with his neighbour, Don Bradman’s Bat and Stumps. Maybe he could invite the Gold Panner, Knight, Wo-Man and both Ned Kellys around for a game of six-and-out. He probably also pops over to Young to feast on the Big Cherries as well!

    Yes, it’s been quite a ride for this kindly ogre. He’s been to the heights of fame and the brink of destruction; to the furthest richest of this great country and deep inside all our hearts. But, for now, he’s happily enjoying retirement in this pleasant rural community.

    One thing’s for sure – they don’t come much cuter than the king of Coota!

  • The Big Headphones, Newcastle, NSW

    The Big Headphones, Newcastle, New South Wales

    Yo, yo, yo! Put your hands in the air like you just don’t care about anything other than Big Things! This is Fatboy Big in da house… or, more precisely, betwixt the Big Headphones! Should you hip hop long to see these merry music-makers? Tune in to find out!

    Looming loud and proud in the Beats-ing heart of Newcastle, it’ll come as music to your ears to hear that these cans are absolutely wonderful. The sense of scale is astonishing, the artwork mesmerising. They fit in well amongst the trendy cafes and breakdancing youths that decorate this cosmopolitan metropolis. There are even some turn-tbles nearby where you can eat your lunch.

    The noble noisemakers were created by the talented Mark Tisdell, who certainly didn’t ‘phone it in, and danced into Darby Street in 2015. “I wanted something for people to walk past and be like, ‘What the…?’” Marky Mark revealed to a flabbergasted journo from the Newcastle Herald.

    Fortunately, Mark, I was slightly more eloquent when I first met them. But I love your work, brother!

    Play that funky music, Bardot!

    The Big Headphones aren’t just pretty, they’re practical. Dump your rump beneath them and guffaw in wonder as music from local artistes washes over you.

    Tragically, I was present for several hours without being graced by the dulcet tones of local legend Super Hubert. Rest assured, I’ve sent Newcastle mayor Nuatali Nelmes several strongly-worded emails and expect this oversight to be rectified soon.

    Novocastrians with musical tendencies can also plop a guitar or bassoon into the Headphones for an impromptu performance. However, when I plugged in a microphone and launched into a medley of Sheb Wooley classics, I was subjected to a series of cruel taunts. The Monster Mash is wasted on some people.

    The hefty Headphones are just a dubstep and a jump from the Big Doc Martens. For more musical marvelry, check out the Big Golden Guitar, the Big Playable Guitar, and the Colossal Compact Disc. It would be a sound decision to visit them all!

    Oh, and it should go without saying, but after this dalliance I certainly consider myself a phonosexual!

  • The Big Boomerang, Williamtown, NSW

    The Big Boomerang, Williamtown, New South Wales

    The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The World Trade Center. Nambour’s Big Pineapple. Time has claimed many of mankind’s greatest achievements, and it’s with a heavy heart that I add one more wonder to this sombre list; the Big Boomerang.

    This curved cutie welcomed visitors to the Murrook Cultural Centre for many years, and was taken down in late-2018 due to renovations. The owners promised his retirement was temporary, but apparently this was little more than a throwaway line. 

    I had a spring in my step when I popped in to see ‘Boomer’ in late-2021. We’d spent many memorable days together during our formative years, and I was excited to see my old mate again. Imagine my disgust when I found him dumped in a dusty corner of the centre’s car park, up against an old shipping container.

    The ravages of Port Stephens’ balmy sub-tropical climate had left ‘Boomer’ a shadow of his former self. In his prime, this idol deliciously large and exceptionally bright, but now he was limp, listless, devoid of colour and life. The Boomerang was in pieces and so, tragically, was Bigs Bardot. I wept openly for my fallen comrade.

    To make things worse, there was an inflatable Santa Claus in the Boomerang’s place when I arrived – and you know how I feel about tacky blow-up dolls. Santa, you can ho-ho-go away!

    Six white boomers? No white boomers 🙁

    For a place that claims to be a Cultural Centre, Murrook doesn’t have a lot of respect for one of Australia’s most loveable larrikins. When I stormed inside, knocking over racks of postcards and demanding answers, the girl behind the counter seemed more interested in raising the attention of a security guard than returning the Big Boomerang to his former glory.

    As I was pinned to the floor by a powerfully-built guard named Dion, I realised the terror the Boomerang must have experienced during his final moments.

    “Just toss me into the car park,” I wailed. “That’s what you do with much-loved icons, isn’t it?”

    Unfortunately I can’t say much more due to the upcoming court case. Although Dion, which moisturiser do you use? That was the smoothest roughing-up I’ve ever endured!

    Boom, boom, boom, boom!

    During his few short years on this planet, the Boomerang symbolised everything good about Australia’s beautiful Big Things. A fusion of ancient culture and modern sensibilities designed to entertain and educate, he became an icon of his community and beloved by millions. The Big Boomerang was fiercely proud of his indigenous heritage and took great joy in telling the stories of his people. And now he’s falling apart in a car park.

    Sadly, my friends, not all boomerangs come back.

  • The Big Doc Martens, Newcastle, NSW

    The Big Doc Martens, Newcastle, New South Wales

    The Big Doc Martens make for a socking sight in the middle of Newcastle, and I certainly wouldn’t like to bump into the miscreant large enough to wear them! Their punk rock swagger and detailed feet-ures are more than enough to earn my heel of approval.

    These hedonistic headkickers live outside the Famous Rock Shop, which is overflowing with leather jackets and vinyl records from bands with scary names like Cannibal Corpse and Savage Garden. If you’re after the latest Belinda Carlisle cassette, however, I’ll save you a trip. They don’t have it.

    The Big Docs are a faithful recreation of the popular romper stompers, down to their laces and stitching. It’s possible to step inside, but punks aren’t known for their lofty hygiene standards, so Gordon entered sole-o. He can now add the Big Fungal Infection to his list of experiences.

    Body modifications are also available, and it was all I could do to stop Gordon from getting his nipple pierced. However, there was no getting between him and aPrince Albert. He’ll regret that when he gets older – trust me.

    If you’re crazy for clogs, The Big Ugg Boots aren’t far away in Thornton. Keep driving and you’ll find The Big Roller Skate and The Big Shoe. They’re all toe-tally awesome!

    Gordon and I were so taken by the Big Doc Martens that we briefly considered forming a white nationalist skinhead gang and going on a violent rampage through the streets of Newcastle. But it seemed like a lot of effort and neither of us wanted to cut our hair, so we went out for banana daiquiris instead.

    Oh, and whilst you might think they’re twins, these boots are actually step-brothers. Anyway, I got a real kick out of meeting them!

  • The Mini Harbour Bridge, Warwick Farm

    The Mini Harbour Bridge, Warwick Farm, New South Wales

    I know what you’re thinking. “Bigs, you’ve lost your mind! The Mini Harbour Bridge can’t possibly be a Big Thing because it’s substantially smaller than the object it’s modelled after. Look, it’s even there in the name. Mini. Mini! Next you’ll be inducting Cockington Green!”

    Your concern is appreciated, but the only thing I’ve lost is 5kg due to a controversial new exercise regime, and I look fantastic. Thanks for noticing. But I’ll stand proudly beside the Mini Harbour Bridge until the day I die.

    The Warwick Farm Wonder’s classification is a constant cause of conjecture within the tight-knit Big Thing community. I’ve ended many lifelong friendships and served some lengthy stretches in prison due to my, at times, quite aggressive defence of this Little Big Coathanger.

    And now, as the government-appointed Custodian of the Bigs, I’m making it official. Mini Harbour Bridge – Big Thing. Take that, Tucker Wankmann!

    The Biggest Little Bridge in the World

    The Mini Harbour Bridge is an astonishing 60 metres wide, making it one of the largest roadside attractions in the southern hemisphere. Built in 1988 to celebrate Australia’s bicentenary, the undersized overpass was plonked in front of a car dealership to coincide with the release of some snazzy new Ford Falcon wagons.

    Funnily enough, what began as a publicity stunt has long outlasted Ford Australia, who shut down in 2016. I know that because I looked it up on Wikipedia, not because I’m some hyper-masculine car buff or anything.

    The Mini Harbour Bridge has become one of the most beloved tourist attractions in the country, with only Ayer’s Rock and the Big Potato welcoming more visitors. It provides a little bit of glamour to the residents of Fairfield, Smithfield and Wetherill Park who can’t afford the train fare to see the real thing.

    As an added bonus, the Bridge Climb over this version takes a lot less time. And anyone who doesn’t find the view out over the Princes Highway beautiful is a troll, as far as I’m concerned. Hopefully a scaled-down troll, to go with the scaled-down Bridge – ha!

    Wheels and Deals!

    Swagger beneath the monument to find the sprawling Peter Warren Automotive, where the prices are as small as the Bridge is big. So enamoured was I by the Bridge that I allowed myself to be talked into buying a shiny new Ram Warlock with extended warranty and something to do with the engine or the batteries or something like that.

    I got a great deal, but unfortunately I’ve never learnt to drive, so I dumped it in the nearby Hungry Jack’s car park and caught the train home. I left the keys in the ignition, so I guess you can have it next time you go to see the Mini Harbour Bridge.

    Now, where’s the scaled-down version of the Sydney Opera House?

  • Moby Big, Nelson Bay, NSW

    Moby Big, Nelson Bay, New South Wales

    Call me Bigs Bardot. Some weeks ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my Dolce & Gabbana clutch purse, and nothing particular to interest me on Netflix during those dark days between the final episode of Squid Game and the premiere of Tiger King 2, I thought I would ride my super-cute carnation pink Vespa about a little and see some oversized roadside attractions.

    It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation, but mainly it’s just totally fun to hang out with giant bugs and huge bits of fruit and stuff like that.

    There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair through the Land of the Bigs when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke. And so it felt when, as I sauntered along the waterfront in Nelson Bay, I happened upon a tiny alien silhouetted against the endless ocean.

    He did not feel the wind, or smell the salt air. He only stood, staring at the horizon, with the marks of some inner crucifixion and woe deep in his face. He was also wearing the most adorable knitted cardigan!

    Anyway, long story short, Captain Gordon had spent most of his life searching for a great white whale. It consumed him, and he couldn’t eat or sleep until he found this massive mammal. The little alien seemed to be able to drink, though, because he was slurring his words and alternating between throwing punches and trying to kiss me.

    “Gordon,” I told him, clutching his furry hand. “Your life’s journey has come to an end, because the Shoal Bay Whale is just up the road. We can even get some jalapeño poppers on the way.”

    “Bigs,” he spouted, “The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run.”

    “So that’s a no to the jalapeño poppers, then?”

    The early bird gets the sperm whale

    It’s not easy doubling a boozed-up Melmacian on a Vespa, especially when everything was ‘Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents’ beds, unerringly I rush’ this and ‘Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me’ that. We were going to see a massive marine creature, so I didn’t get the porpoise of his ramblings.

    Fortunately, after passing The Big Red Bug and Bakker’s Big Peach, we soon arrived at the Whale. I was immediately smitten by his roguish good looks and cheeky smile. He’s built onto a trailer, meaning this oversized fish can splash around wherever he wants to.

    It was all a bit much for Gordon, though. The Nelson Bay Whale swam before him as the monomaniac incarnation of all those malicious agencies which some furry little aliens feel eating in them, till they are left living on with half a heart and half a lung. Or something like that.

    Gordon piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole alien species; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it. It was a clear breach of the ‘Do Not Climb’ sign.

    “To the last I grapple with thee,” Gordon whaled. “From hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee.” The poor little fella had obviously had too much excitement for one day, so I popped him on the Vespa and, thankfully, he fell asleep on the way home.

    The next morning Gordon had forgotten all about his desperate search for the white whale and had decided his newest lifelong obsession was to see the Big Apple Pie. Yes, it’s quite a story, and I only am escaped alone to tell thee about the extraordinary Moby Big.

  • 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!

  • Bakker’s Big Peach, Anna Bay, NSW

    Bakker's Big Peach, Anna Bay, New South Wales

    Movin’ to Anna Bay
    Gonna eat a lot of peaches
    I’m movin’ to Anna Bay
    I’m gonna eat me a lot of peaches
    Movin’ to Anna Bay
    Gonna eat a lot of peaches
    Movin’ to Anna Bay
    The Big Red Bug also likes peaches

    Bakker’s Big Peach is on a stand
    She was put there by a man
    But is now a little rundown
    If I had my little way
    I’d hug the Big Peach every day
    Sun-soaked beauty’s been allowed to fade

    I’m movin’ to Anna Bay
    I’m gonna eat me a lot of peaches
    Movin’ to Anna Bay
    I’m gonna eat me a lot of peaches
    Movin’ to Anna Bay
    Gonna eat me a lot of peaches
    Movin’ to Anna Bay
    The Shoal Bay Whale is a fan of peaches

    Bakker’s Peach is so lovely I can’t resist
    Bulbous and brave, she must be kissed
    She is my perfect woman
    I asked her if she wanted to come for a ride
    But my car’s too small for her to fit inside
    So I cooked her and ate her in a pie

    Bakker’s Big Peach, is the peach for me
    Bakker’s Big Peach, visit her she’s free
    Bakker’s Big Peach, is the peach for me
    Bakker’s Big Peach, visit her she’s free

    Look out!

  • The Big Red Bug, Salt Ash, NSW

    The Big Red Bug, Salt Ash, New South Wales

    Port Stephens has been invaded by the largest pest in the world – and the locals couldn’t be happier! The Big Red Bug stands two metres tall and can be found rocking out at 419 Lemon Tree Passage Road.

    With his cocksure swagger and cheeky smile, this is one roadside attraction with a ’tude just as big as he is. The only thing he’s missing is a couple of legs, because he only has four. It bugs the question, what happened to the rest?

    Beetle by beetle, the Big Red Bug has burrowed his way into the community. As the mascot of Complete Pest Services, this not-so-creepy crawly is leading the battle against ticks, termites and spiders. Hopefully he’ll leave the nearby Ossie the Mossie alone!

    The Big Red Bug is certainly active, and was built onto a trailer so he can take day trips. Until recently he lived in an industrial estate in nearby Lemon Tree Passage, and I was on the verge of tears when I turned up and he was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately a big-hearted tradie settled me down with a warm embrace, and pointed me towards the Bug’s current residence.

    If not for Massoud, I mite not have found this critter at all.

    I don’t think this red rascal will be leaving his current home anytime soon, because he looks snug as a bug in a rug. He’s also within flying distance of his favourite food, the scrumptious Big Peach. You’ll never get sick of his ant-ics, so stop by for an insect-ion!

  • The Big Apple, Darkes Forest, NSW

    The Big Apple, Darkes Forest, New South Wales

    He’s supple, shiny and perfectly proportioned – but enough about the inimitable Bigs Bardot! We’re here to talk about the scrumptious Big Apple of Darkes Forest.

    Whilst he’s not the biggest of the many apples south of Sydney – that honour goes to the Tallong Apple – this red delicious is a real man of the people. He’s super close to the ground and perfectly positioned for a hug and a kiss. I can tell you from experience that he’s open to both.

    As crimson as the flame trees that decorate the Illawarra, the Big Apple is truly the maça of his domain. He’s a great representative of the nearby Glenbernie Orchard

    Owned by the good folks at Darkes Cider, the apple lurks wistfully in the car park in front of their cellar door. Say hello before popping in to try their wide range of handcrafted alcoholic beverages. The good news is, you might be seeing two Big Apples as you stumble back out.

    Unfortunately my little alien friend Gordon overindulged on the honey mead, and I was forced to escort him from the premises before a burly biker could deliver a swift beating. He spent a teary moment with the apple where he expressed his undying affection for the fruit, before taking a swing at me and passing out.

    Needless to say, it’s sparkling apple juice for Gordon from now on.

  • Discobolus, Sydney Olympic Park, NSW

    Discobolus, Sydney Olympic Park, New South Wales

    We need to discuss the true star of the 2000 Sydney Olympics… or should that be discus? The stunning, circular Discobolus lies within the shadows of the Olym-big stadium, and serves to link the Aussie sporting extravaganza with the ancient Greek games.

    Well, it’s certainly a more family-friendly option than a bunch of naked gentlemen wrestling each other.

    Crafted by Australian artist Robert Owen, Discobolus represents an ancient Greek discus that’s been tossed into the outback, before transitioning into a CD-ROM. Back when Discobolus was unveiled, that was the ultimate symbol of modern life. These days he’d probably be shaped like a set of AirPods.

    This is a seriously impressive work of art, with details that can only be appreciated when the light hits the disc at just the right angle. The names of dozens of people who helped make Discobolus a reality – including yours truly – adorn his adorable abdomen.

    Here’s to those who believed building a statue of a giant circle was more than just a pi in the sky idea!

    Welcome to Discworld

    My first encounter with this not-so-compact disc came when I was little more than an infant, ‘neath a blood-red sky just moments before the Opening Ceremony of the Sydney Games. As Nikki Webster’s understudy, I had just received the devastating news that she hadn’t been struck down by food poisoning, and my dreams of taking her place as the young Kylie Minogue had been dashed.

    I was crushed, but through the tears I spotted what appeared to be a silver spaceship. He certainly was out of this world and, in my darkest moment, it was the dashing disc that guided me through the minefield of my prepubescent emotions. Standing beneath him 21 years later, the bond we forged was stronger than ever.

    Whilst reflecting upon that turbulent period, I noticed a waifish lass also admiring Discobolus. With blonde hair cascading past her shoulders, the girl was beautiful yet consumed by regret. I recognised her immediately. My eyes met Nikki Webster’s, and we drew together beneath the monstrous discus.

    “You know what, Bigs?” Nikki Webster whispered. “Neither of us should have played the part of Young Kylie Minogue. It should’ve been Discobolus.”

    I nodded knowingly, ending our decades-long rivalry. The moment was bittersweet. A few minutes of shy awkwardness followed, before Nikki Webster cut through the silence.

    “You want to sing Strawberry Kisses with me, right?”

    “Nikki Webster,” I blubbered, taking her dainty hand in mine, “I thought you’d never ask!”

  • 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!

  • The Googong Giant Chair, Googong, NSW

    The Giant Chair, Googong, New South Wales

    Hey gang, I have some bad news. I’ve been shrunk down to a fraction of my normal height! Just look at me sitting here on a normal, regular-sized chair.

    Tee-hee, only kidding! I’m still as Big as I always was, it’s just that I’m perched upon the immense Googong Giant Chair. Although I must say that being smaller would have its perks, such as Big Things seeming even huger than they already are!

    This stupendous structure is more than three metres tall, and carved from particularly sturdy wood. There’s enough room for an entire family to snuggle in for a happy snap. I’m estranged from the other members of the Bardot clan, so brought my best friend Gordon Shumway along instead. He thought it was one of mankind’s greatest seats of civil engineering!

    Chairing is caring

    The Chair is the beating heart of the modern planned city of Googong, with the locals lined up around the block to feel its warm embrace. But it wasn’t always this way, as I discovered several years ago whilst enjoying a light brunch with Googong mayor Derryn Wong.

    “Bigs,” Derryn sighed, as he he listlessly stirred his lemon sorbet. “I have built such a wonderful town, in such an incredible part of the country, but nobody wants to move here. The houses are empty, the streets are windswept. Bigs, I could lose everything.”

    “Derryn,” I replied, before pausing for dramatic effect, “you know there’s only one thing that can transform Googong into the world-class city we both know it should be.”

    Derryn thought for a moment, peering out towards the hazy hills. The lemon sorbet was stirred once again, before the mayor leapt to his feet.

    “I should build a Big!” he exclaimed.

    “Yes Derryn, what a wonderful idea,” I replied, allowing him to have his moment in the spotlight. Then, just as fast as he had risen, Derryn slumped back into his seat. The poor old lemon sorbet was stirred once more.

    “But what should I build? I have so many ideas when it comes to cost-efficient housing, but you’re the expert on Big Things. Bigs, oh Bigs, what should I build for my fellow Googongians?”

    “Only you can decide that,” I whispered, clutching Derryn’s hand to both reassure him and to prevent him from harassing the lemon sorbet any longer. “Just make sure it’s something that supports this vibrant, growing community. Something they’ll be comfortable with. A feature that will, in time, just feel like part of the furniture.”

    “I get what you’re saying,” chirped Derryn, before winking at me and racing out of the cafe with his chair held aloft. Fortunately I paid for both the chair and the sorbet, so the cafe owners weren’t left short.

    And that, my friends, is the story of how Googong mayor Derryn Wong – a man with all the subtlety of of a sledgehammer – built the Giant Chair.

  • 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 Cauliflower, Waterloo, NSW

    The Big Cauliflower, Waterloo, New South Wales

    Cauliflowers are the sexiest and most sophisticated of vegetables, so of course there’s a massive one living in the trendy inner-city suburb of Waterloo. The Big Cauliflower lurks above the historic Cauliflower Hotel, where it’s happy flower all the time!

    The Hotel dates back to 1862, but the vast veggie isn’t that old. In fact, he looks quite fresh! The original publican, a Mr George Rolfe, built his pub with money he made from selling cauliflowers. He painted one on the side of the building, and the name stuck.

    These days the pub is a hip and happenin’ place with an extensive wine selection and mouthwatering modern American food. It’s the sort of place salad-vertising executives love. Nothing, however, overshadows the real star attraction – the Big Cauliflower. He has a good head on him and looks very much like the real deal.

    The Big Cauliflower isn’t much of an attention-seeker, and is content to sit up there on the roof, people-watching. It makes it difficult to take a photo with him, but after dodging traffic I was veget-able to grab one! I’ll hang it on my kitchen wall, next to my snaps with the Big Potato and the Big Pumpkin.

    Cauliflower Power!

    At the conclusion of the photo shoot I swaggered into the pub was and gleefully ordered a cup of their famous cauliflower beer. The barman looked at me as if I’d beamed down from space and told me they didn’t have anything of the sort, and never had.

    A couple of tough-looking tradies with cauliflower ears even suggested that my kind weren’t welcome there. Discrimination against those with a penchant for oversized produce is alive and well in Sydney, unfortunately.

    Not to be intimidated, I ordered a cup of Resch’s and dunked a generously-proportioned cauliflower in it. The concoction was lumpy, chunky, and smelled like a homeless man’s underwear, but I forced it down. The tradies soon revised their opinion of me, cheering me on as I downed cup after cup of lukewarm cauliflower beer.

    I ended up becoming physically ill and was forcefully ejected by a burly security guard, but it was worth it because I wasn’t going to let them think they’d won.

  • The Hardware Man, Unanderra, NSW

    The Hardware Man, Unanderra, New South Wales

    Set your heart to ‘swoon’ and say hello to a big, burly bloke who’s good with his hands and could build a rat trap out of some paper clips and a broken zip-tie.

    Oh no, not me! I call Hire-a-Hubby to change my toilet paper. I’m talking about the hunky Hardware Man, who I was lucky enough to have a drilling encounter with during a trip to Wollongong.

    Despite boasting a chiseled physique, the Hardware Man’s proportions are endearingly odd. His bits and bobs get larger as you head south, meaning he has a rugged pinhead and massive boots. But you know what they say about a man with big shoes – he must have big feet, tee-hee!

    This bearded beauty stands proudly by the busy Princes Highway, saw it’s quite a feat to get a snap with him. To achieve a decent angle grinder, I had to set my camera up on one side of the road and then dodge traffic to get near the hulking hunk. It’s easy to screw up a photo op like this, but I think I nailed it. As you can imagine, I was in quite high spirit levels when it worked out!

    Just quietly, I think he’d be a good match for Wo-Man, because they both like showing off their tools – and I’m not talking about the Big Axe!

    Big Man, Bigger Savings!

    The Hardware Man is the mascot for the legendary shop of the same name, which has been supplying the South Coast with hammers and nails for over 50 years. And yes, they do free pool water testing in-store!

    Feeling it would be rude not to pop in to say hello, I sequestered away into the voluminous yellow building. Four hours later I emerged with a wheelbarrow overflowing with safety goggles, a circular saw, needle-nosed pliers, industrial-strength paint stripper, some sort of chainsaw thing and 15 litres of weedkiller. What can I say; my penchant for impulse purchases is matched only by the Hardware Man’s extensive range and competitive prices.

    I hate to hammer the point, but Hardware Man is incredible! Oh, and if anyone needs a whole bunch of quality DIY equipment that I’ll never use, drop me a line.

  • 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 Bilpin Apple Pie, Bilpin, NSW

    Crumb one, crumb all to see a true work of tart – the Bilpin Apple Pie! The sweet treat rests on the back of an old truck, a few kilometres north of the sleepy township of Bilpin. He’s certainly not a short crust, in fact he’s quite tall!

    My encounter with this homemade hottie proved to be a pie-opening experience. The round rascal is certainly odd, and the only Big I know of who drives a vehicle. He’s perfectly placed for a strudel-icious photo – and that’s pudding it mildly.

    Honestly, anyone who says nice pies finish last doesn’t know what they’re on about.

    Bilpin is famous for its apples, cider, and baked goodies, and is a lovely place to visit when the weather’s pie and warm. On the way through, you’ll also drive pastry the iconic Fruit Bowl. There are plenty of trees around, so Bilpin’s certainly not out in the dessert or anything.

    If you prefer the apple without the pie, trot on over to Tallong or Yerrinbool. I’m sure you’ll find them both (red) delicious!

    The Cottage Orchard Cafe is right next to the Pie, and the friendly owners serve a range of sweets and savouries to suit any palate. I like my pies stuffed with meat and swimming in tomato sauce, but decided to turnover a new leaf and test the local produce. My verdict? Un-quiche-lievable!

    The Bilpin Apple Pie is worth baking the trip out to see, but the question remains; where’s the Big Dollop of Ice Cream to go with him?

  • The Big Roller Skate, Emu Plains, NSW

    The Big Roller Skate, Emu Plains, New South Wales

    He is a sk8er boy
    Big like the Potato boy
    He is good enough for me
    He has a pretty lace
    Takes up quite a lot of space
    You need to come down to Penny

    Roll out the red carpet, because I rink this colossal clog is wheely exciting! The lone loafer lives atop the entrance to Penrith Skatel, and is a shoe-in to send you head-over-heels in love!

    Widely regarded as the Pride of Penrith, the Big Roller Skate’s a ray of sunshine amidst a dingy industrial estate. If you’re looking to live out your Xanadu fantasies whilst having a new muffler installed, here’s your chance! The Skatel has heaps of great feet-ures and is tongues of fun.

    The Big Strawberry, Chook and Axe are nearby, if you want a sock-cessful day hunting down Big Things. If you prefer your shoes in pairs, try the Big Ugg Boots. If you prefer pears, try the Bilpin Fruit Bowl.

    The Skatel is economically priced, so even cheapskates can enjoy it. Unfortunately the centre was closed when I visited, however many people were already inline for selfies with the robust Roller.

    I considered sneaker-ing over the fence, but feared being arrested and tossed into sole-itary confinement. I really didn’t heel like going through all of that.

    Get your skates on and lace in to see him today!

  • The Big Flower, Ourimbah, NSW

    The Big Flower, Ourimbah, New South Wales

    If it’s wrong for a 38-year-old man to dress up as a pansy and dance in front of The Big Flower, then I don’t want to be right. What can I say – this daisy is drivin’ me crazy!

    As tall as he is handsome, the Big Flower has a kitschy charm and refreshing innocence that’s granted him cult status on the Central Coast. For decades he’s welcomed visitors to to this subtropical paradise. One glance at that big, happy grin is enough to know that all is well in the world.

    The plucky perennial smiles happily at drivers along the M1 freeway, so you don’t need to be a palm reader to find him. Simp-tree take the Ourimbah exit and there he is – I’m sure you can fig-ure it out!

    After taking some happy snaps, spring into the Big Flower Nursery, which has thousands of flowers set out in neat rose. The staff dafodil-igently water them every day, and it’s quite a cycad-venture to roam through. The prices are quite reasonable, if you’re watching your frangi-pennies.

    If you’re after a light ca-meal-ia, the on-site cafe offers a scrumptious selection of sweets. Apparently the scones are gerani-yum!

    The Big Flower is not aloe-n on the Central Coast. Ploddy, Frilly, Lizzo and Daryl are just a few minutes drive south. Alan Davidson’s Balls are on the short drive into Gosford, where you’ll find the Big Poppies. They all hope to bank-seeya soon. Or should that be bloom?

    I’m not dande-lyin’ when I say I wish the Big Flower was jas-mine!

  • The Big Axe, Box Hill, NSW

    The Big Axe, Box Hill, New South Wales

    Wood you like to visit a towering tomahawk and grab a load of quality kindling at the same time? I’ll go out on a limb and take that as a yes, so hatchet a plan to swing by Big Axe Firewood in beautiful Box Hill!

    The Axe lives beside busy Windsor Road, ready to welcome anyone lumbering along. He’s behind a fence, so I asked the nice lady in the chop if I could take a few happy snaps. She said yes and didn’t even ask me to stump up cash for the honour!

    As you can see, I was dressed pretty sharply for the occasion. Did I cut it as a big, rugged lumberjack in my flannel tunic? Chop chop with your answer, I don’t want to have to axe you again???

    The Axe looks fantastic and is almost as large as his twin up north in Kew. His owners obviously love him, because he’s been freshly painted and the yard he’s in is well maintained. I just hope he doesn’t hook up with the Hardware Man and try to lop down the nearby Big Koala‘s tree!

    For more information on this massive marvel without having to cleave home, log on to the Big Axe’s website. You could even send him a tree-mail. Don’t worry, there are no hackers on there!

    The Big Axe is, quite surprisingly, single. He is, however, hoping to find a girlfriend on the popular dating app Timber.

  • The Big Strawberry, Luddenham, NSW

    The Big Strawberry, Luddenham, New South Wales, Australia

    Yes, I know, I never seem to age, but sadly the same can’t be said about the Big Strawberry. With peeling paint and a wilted stem, she’s one of the most pip-iful Bigs I’ve ever encountered. The strawberry emporium she promotes is closed, and a darkness has descended upon the village of Luddenham.

    Honestly, if the Big Strawberry were any gloomier, she’d be a blueberry.

    She once had such huge dreams. To appear in the video for Strawberry Kisses, marry the Big Pineapple, and be the first resident of Luddenham to finish high school. Just as I never realised my dreams of starring in Gilmore Girls, the Strawberry was forced to shoot for simpler goals. These days she’s in a poor state and has been dumped by the side of a road in western Sydney.

    You may think this would cause a strawberry traffic jam, but no. It seems the good people of the west have forgotten about this fruit. Ex-straw-dinary, I know, but true.

    To make matters worse, Koonoomoo’s Big Strawberry – the world’s largest – has gone on to become a darling of the Big Thing world. Even Gordon Shumway, who loves Bigs one and all, had to be coaxed out of the car with the promise of being able to eat a local cat.

    I wanted to give the Strawberry a cuddle and tell her everything would be vine, but the height of the structure she’s perched on precluded that. That was the last straw for me!

    Luddenites say that at night, when the wind blows softly, they can hear the Big Strawberry weeping. Hopefully her salad days will return.

  • 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!

  • The Big Poppies, Gosford, NSW

    The Big Poppies, Gosford, New South Wales

    These burgundy bud-dies have been bravely garden the entrance to Gosford for a few years now, and have blossomed into the city’s top tourist destination. The nine nice guys stand by the shore of the gorgeous Brisbane Water, and I’m not pollen your leg when I say it’s a bloomin’ beautiful place to spend an afternoon!

    The Big Poppies were brought to life by local artiste Margrete Erling – who rolled the big cricket and soccer balls into the willing arms of the people of Wyoming – and took around six weeks to complete.

    Created to commemorate the centenary of the Gallipoli campaign during the First World War, the Poppies were unveiled to an adoring public during the 2015 ANZAC Day ceremony. With 40,000 smaller fabric poppies decorating the grounds of Gosford Rotary Park and hundreds of curious townsfolk in attendance, they really rose to the occasion!

    Flower Power

    The Poppies rest in what was once a fountain, on a galvanised steel base. The handsome flowers are made from aluminium tubing and flat sheet metal, and are so cute I used my tulips to kiss them!

    Sadly the Big Poppies aren’t as fresh as they once were, and are badly in need of some tender budding care. Maybe we convince the caretaker of the Big Sunflowers to help them out? They also no longer light up at night – although they will light up your heart.

    I’ve been fortunate enough to visit these towering flowers with my own Poppy, who is a Second World War hero, so they hold special significance to me. These Bigs aren’t just fun, they’re a tribute to the brave men and woman who have fought for our freedom and way of life.

    If the Poppies aren’t large enough for you, firstly, check your privilege. Secondly, there’s an even bigger blossom just down the road.

    Although they’re overshadowed by the world famous Ploddy the Dinosaur, who lives just up the road, the floral to this story is that you need to put the petal to the metal and visit them!

  • The Big Pencil, Newcastle, NSW

    The Big Pencil, Newcastle, New South Wales

    2B or not 2B, that is the question. And the answer, of course, is not 2B, as the perky Pencil is clearly an HB, the most princely on the graphite grading scale.

    Positioned beneath the jaw-droppingly beautiful Nobbys Lighthouse along Newcastle’s eastern beaches, he doubles as a seat from which to enjoy this glorious part of the world. Despite what you may think, the area’s not sketchy at all!

    And don’t worry, this scribbly sensation won’t be going anywhere, because he’s stationary. Now that’s worth writing home about!

    I’ve been lead to believe the Big Headphones and Ossie the Mossie are nearby, but what about a Big Sharpener? I’d hate for this crazy crayon to get blunt!

    Time to pencil in a visit to Newie, Big Thing lovers!

  • The Big Playable Guitar, Narrandera, NSW

    The Big Playable Guitar, Narrandera, New South Wales

    For more than a decade, the far-flung village of Narrandera was the centre of the Big Thing universe. As home to the World’s Largest Playable Guitar – a 5.82m-long acoustic axe that fascinated music lovers and Thing-o-philes alike – the region’s economy boomed. Then the unthinkable happened, and it all came crashing down. This is the story of how the music almost died.

    Looking to promote the Country Music Club of Narrandera, local guitar guru Robert Palmer (who may or may not be the Simply Irresistible dude) spent more than 300 hours carefully crafting the bodacious banjo, before presenting it to the public in 1988. Headbangers, country bumpkins and wannabe rock gods put aside their differences as they teamed up to play the fully-functional fiddle, which is so big it requires a small team of musicians to play it.

    When the Guitar was listed in the 1991 edition of the Guinness Book of Records, the town’s pubs were drunk dry in celebration. Tourism reached record highs and every road led to Narrandera. There was even talk of building an international airport with direct flights from Shanghai and Wagga Wagga to cope with the sightseers. The owners of the other Big Guitar could only look on with envious eyes. 

    But, as pop legend Bob Dylan once warbled, “The times, they are a-changin’”, and darkness descended upon Narrandera in 2000. And I’m not talking about Y2K, although many locals did unplug their toasters as a preventative measure against them gaining sentience and chasing them around the kitchen.

    Don’t mess with Texas

    Proving that everything is indeed bigger in Texas, a bunch of rowdy students from the Academy of Science and Technology in Conroe built an immense, 13.3-metre-long playable guitar and cruelly snatched the record. Conroe got the tourists. Conroe got the fame. Sadly, Conroe even got the international airport with direct flights from Shanghai and Wagga Wagga.

    The unveiling of the Big Tennis Racquet in nearby Barellan was a further humiliation for the townsfolk, who were often the subject of cruel taunts from their northern neighbours. Not surprisingly, they soon reached break point.

    The people of Narrandera were left with nothing but the shirts on their backs (which were, shockingly, emblazoned with the words ‘World’s Largest Playable Guitar’ and thus rendered unfashionable). The town never fully recovered from the tragedy, and when I visited a palpable atmosphere of depression and defeat engulfed Narrandera like a thick fog. I struggled to locate the huge ukelele, because locals burst into tears when I asked about it.

    Yesterday’s guitar hero

    After discovering the Guitar had been sequestered away to the Narrandera Visitor Information Centre, I trotted inside and was led out the back by a very pleasant volunteer. The Guitar didn’t string me along, and we shared a chord-ial greeting. He may be the second-biggest playable guitar, but, with his handsome plywood body and carefully-painted details, he’s number one in my heart!

    I plucked up the courage to play with him and, with the assistance of a rambunctious local granny, banged out a rousing rendition of Old Time Rock and Roll. As we segued seamlessly into The Crocodile Rock, local shopkeepers and students swept in through the front doors, surprised but delighted to hear the Guitar playing once again. Narranderans jived and gyrated as our playing became wilder, and the gloom that had consumed the town lifted.

    With sweat pouring down my face and the final echoes of my hour-long interpretation of Stairway to Heaven fading in the twilight, I felt a firm but friendly hand on my shoulder. Turning, I was met by an impish man in a broad, black hat – my good mate, roadside attraction-loving country music legend Lee Kernaghan. We embraced in front of the Big Playable Guitar as our admirers cheered us on.

    Lee, me, and the Guitar make three!

    “We need to stop cuddling in front of Big Guitars,” I beamed when we finally came up for air.

    “Bigs,” Lee Kernaghan rasped, with tears in his eyes. “Look at what you’ve done! You’ve brought life and love back to Narrandera. You’ve saved the bloody town, mate.”

    “Firstly, Lee Kernaghan, I don’t care for your colourful language,” I snapped. “You’re a talented songwriter who can surely find more appropriate ways to express yourself. And anyway, the Big Playable Guitar is the true hero of this story. I’m just a vagabond with a heart of gold, travelling the land to cast light upon the trials and tribulations of our beautiful Bigs.”

    “My apologies, Bigs. You’re right as always. Do you want some more of these Country Music Awards? I won another eight this year and they’re just piling up. I’ve been using them to tip waiters.”

    And so, with a song once more in the heart of every Narranderan, Lee Kernaghan and I climbed atop my scooter and burnt out in the endless night. With our smiles cutting through the darkness and only the stars to guide us, we chased our next Big adventure.

  • The Big Gold Panner Man, Bathurst, NSW

    The Big Gold Panner Man, Bathurst, New South Wales, Australia

    A word of warning, this Big is a real gold digger!

    Tall, dark and handsome, the Big Gold Panner Man sauntered into the historic inland city of Bathurst in 1979, taking up residence outside the lavish Gold Panner Motor Inn. He welcomes millions of visitors from Sydney each year, many of whom can barely pan-dle their excitement.

    Not surprisingly, he’s become by far the most famous and celebrated thing about this bustling Gold Rush town, edging out the extraordinary Town Square and the fascinating Fossil and Mineral Museum.

    But wait, there’s more! Big Thing lovers can actually tick two landmarks off their bucket list in one go, because the World’s Biggest Beard is also on display here!

    That hasn’t helped him find gold, though, and after 42 years he’s yet to strike it lucky. But he has found the love and admiration of a nation, which is far more valuable than a precious yellow mineral.

    Despite bending over to work with his impressively-realised mining equipment, the Big Gold Panner Man measures five metres from the bottom of his sturdy shoes to the top of his trendy hat. This makes him the second-tallest human Big in Australia after The King of Atlantis.

    He might posses a rugged manliness, but the Big Gold Panner Man is also a forgetful chap. He left his Big Lamp in nearby Lithgow, his Big Spade in Chiltern and his Big Gold Pick and Pan in far-flung Grenfell. Oh well, that just makes it more fun to track them all down.

    As one of the kindest and most respectful characters in the Land of the Bigs, this major miner proves all that glitters is gold – and there’s more than a nugget of truth to that!

    Slip an extra Gordon on the barbie!

    There was a brief moment of unpleasantness during my date with the Gold Panner, when he scooped Gordon into his skillet and threatened to fry him up for dinner. I know what you’re thinking – two big, tough, macho men marking their turf.

    But, really, it was all Gordon’s fault. He was behaving in an antagonistic manner towards the Gold Panner and said his hat looked effeminate, so he had it coming.

    Fortunately the kind-hearted giant let his much smaller rival get away, shaken but not stirred. You might not be so lucky next time, Gordon!

  • The Big Potato, Robertson, NSW

    Some think he looks more like a Poo-tato than a Potato, but I reckon he’s a real spud-muffin! The 10-metre-wide, four-metre-tall Big Potato was carefully crafted in 1977 by local farmer Jim Mauger, and stands in starch contrast to the rural village of Robertson that houses him. 

    Modelled after the delicious Sebago variety of spud, the beguiling Big Potato was designed to house a vegetable museum that, tragically, never eventu-tatered. Wipe away those tears because there are plenty of takeaway shops in town, so you’ll be able to find some potato scallops to study!

    The best place to gobble your lunch is right next to the Big Potato, because his admirers recently chipped in to landscape the park he lives in, and he’s now wedged between some delightful picnic tables. It’s particularly fun to watch the endless stream of spec-taters stopping by for selfies!

    Right next door is the ravishing Robertson Supermarket, which offers a wide range of Big Potato magnets, stickers and tea towels. I bought a scrumptious Spud t-shirt that I wear several times a week – we’re a mash made in heaven!

    He’s for sale… and cheap as chips!

    If this is spud at first sight, I have some wonderful news – The Big Potato can be yours for the bargain price of $920,000. That’s right, his current owners, Heather and Neil Tait (yes, that’s their real names! If only everyone in possession of a Big was forced to have a related name!) are looking to bake someone’s day by sending this potato to the market.

    Imagine living inside a giant potato – wouldn’t it be a lux-tuber-ous existence! You’d also be perfectly positioned to make regular day trips to Yerrinbool’s amazing Apple, because it’s a short drive away.

    Astonishingly the Big Potato isn’t heritage listed, therefore it could be demolished by a cold-hearted developer. So come on, Big Thing fanatics, let’s pool our money and buy. I therefore raise my hand to be the care-tater.

    There’s no sprout about it, this potato is a gem!

  • The Big Knight, Knockrow, NSW

    The Big Knight, Knockrow, New South Wales

    Hear ye, hear ye! ‘Tis I, Sir Bigs-a-Lot of Kingdom Bardot, and I doth welcome thee to a time when fearless warriors and ferocious dragons roamed the landscape of northern New South Wales. Please pop on ye olde face mask, as ’tis a spot of bubonic plague around – tee hee!

    Just kidding, I’m really your friend Bigs Bardot, and it’s knights for you to join me as I share some kind swords regarding this 6.5-metre nobleman. The Big Knight’s been protecting the good folk of the Macadamia Castle since 1985 and, despite looking a bit scary at first lance, is one of the most pleasant fellows I’ve ever hel-met.

    Indeed, you won’t find armour wonderful chap!

    A quick note: The Big Knight was, shamefully, removed in early-2023. He has been purchased by the friendly folk at the Coffs Harbour Butterfly House, and I’ll let you all know when he’s been installed.
    The crux of this entry has been left unchanged, to allow us all to step back to a simpler, more whimsical time. Namaste.

    Lord of the Sword

    The Knight, as he’s officially known, is the creation of local botanist Ken McDonald, who long ran a plant stand at the castle and dreamed of selling more seeds to tourists. He set to work designing a dapper dude of enormous proportions, basing him on a suit of armour on display in the castle.

    “I just measured everything and drew it up, then multiplied it by three,” Ken explained in the official history of the castle. “First thing I did was build a big rotating spit, just like you’d use to cook a pig. That way I could build the Knight’s frame onto it and rotate it around as I applied the fibreglass.”

    Ken used steel pipes for the frame and flat steel strips for the Knight’s robust body. He had a little trouble balancing himself (the Knight, that is, not Ken), so the sword and lance were reinforced to keep him upright.

    Lennox Head luminary and surfboard shaping superstar Bob McTavish was tasked with applying the intricate fibreglass details to the Knight – and was forced to come up with some creative solutions to complete the job.

    “For the head, we went shopping in Ballina to find just the right sized beach ball, inflated it and coated it with resin,” jabbered Bob. “When it set, we deflated it and kept on adding more and more layers for strength.”

    Boogie Knights

    After three months of tireless work, the 6.5-metre-tall gentleman was unveiled to a delighted public. He was originally adorned with white armour and a red cross, which were added by local artist Mark Waller.

    “It was supposed to be St George, you see,” Ken declared, “and I’ve always had this dream of building a dragon to lie down at his feet.”

    It’ll be a maca-damn-ia shame if that doesn’t happen!

    The Knight’s home has been through a number of owners and names over the years, and these days the Macadamia Castle is definitely worth taking a pecan at, with putt-putt golf, a small zoo, a salubrious cafe and sprawling shopping options. I enjoyed dropping my tough guy facade for a few moments to show off my inner Maid Marian in the gift shop. A Round Table discussion decided I looked delightful!

    Those on a road trip along that NSW North Coast are often left ponder whether the Big Knight could defeat the nearby Big Prawn in a battle but honestly, our beautiful Bigs are peaceful beings, so you’d have to be medi-evil to contemplate that!

    A Hard Day’s Knight

    The Knight’s debonair swagger and pensive masculinity, though inspirational, have not been enough to stave off the threat of image-obsessed millennials. The new owners of the Castle – who have transformed it into some sort of petting zoo – saw little value in his history, bravery and importance to the community, and so tore him down in early 2023.

    A hero to millions and an integral thread in the fabric of Knockrow, he was knocked down in the name of progress. The Knight’s muscular legs were smashed to bits, and he was dragged through the dirt like a filthy commoner. The good people of Knockrow wept as one. They’d lost their inspiration. Many turned to narcotics to fill the void.

    Thankfully, they are willing to sell what’s left of The Big Knight to the highest bidder. Not wanting to be gazumped, I put in an offer of $1.2 million to purchase the shiny hunk, hoping he’d spearhead my grandiose plans for a sprawling medieval-themed gentlemens club up the road in Binna Burra.

    Sadly it seems my cheque was lost in the mail, because he was snapped up by the happy chappies at the Coffs Harbour Butterfly House. Ah well, maybe I’ll buy the Big Banana instead!

  • Wo-Man, Garland Valley, NSW

    Wo-Man, Garland Valley, New South Wales

    As a passionate supporter of the LGBTQI+ community, it’s my pleasure to introduce Australia’s very first transgender Big – the voluptuous Wo-Man! Xe is loud and proud and shimmers like a disco ball, bedazzling all who venture into the backwoods of Wollombi.

    This remote location is a surprising home for such a progressive Big, who’s happy to show off xis ample bosom and metallic member for anyone to see. Xe has legs for days and is the true monarch of the forest, so if you think I sound jealous, I am!

    An abandoned service station, rotting furniture and desolate fields make for a lonely yet unique home for Wo-Man, and there’s even a rusting yacht on site, despite being hours from the coast. It’s like a scene from a bloodthirsty horror movie, with Wo-Man playing the part of the buxom beauty!

    Beauty and the Beast


    There’s trouble in paradise, however, and I must issue a serious warning to those planning to visit Wo-Man, as xis owner is a real oddball and not particularly welcoming of those who stop for a photo. In an unprovoked and hyper-aggressive display of male fragility, I was verbally and emotionally abused by the heavily-bearded tough guy as he grilled some sausages, leaving a group of disgusted customers gaping in disbelief. As the vicious words crashed down upon me, I sensed Wo-Man shuddering.

    I would’ve thought someone who built a four-metre-tall trans friend to keep himself company in remote bushland would be more open-minded. Then again, if I owned a Big Thing – especially one as alluring as Wo-Man – I’d probably be a tad possessive, too!

    My suggestion is to pull up, say a quick hello to Wo-Man as you snap a selfie, then drive off before the hate speech starts flying. Hopefully this gentleman’s sausage sizzling skills are better than his social abilities, because he certainly left a sour taste in my mouth!

    My heart weeps to think of Wo-Man being trapped in such a toxic environment, but it’s not my place to get involved. Not just because xe is big enough to fend for xirself, but because xe simply wouldn’t fit on the back of my scooter. Hopefully one day xe’ll meet someone who treats xem the way xe deserves – maybe the hardworking Big Gold Panner, the brave Big Knight, the bashful Coota Giant, or even Matilda. Until then shine on, you crazy diamond!

  • The Big Tennis Racquet, Barellan, NSW

    Serving as a monument to Wimbledon champion and Barellan local Evonne Goolagong Cawley, the 13.8-metre-tall Big Tennis Racquet is a real grand slam and I’m sure you’ll love (it) all!

    Locals were courting the idea of a towering tribute to their tennis treasure for years, and made such a racquet that they netted themselves a Big! This wonderfully-realised statue was unveiled in October 2009 during Barellan’s Centenary celebrations, and is a 20:1 scale replica of Vonnie’s famed wooden signature Dunlop racquet.

    ‘The Sunshine Supergirl’ won 14 majors to become one of the greatest tennis players of all time but could never hold this supersized sports equipment because she is, ironically, quite a diminutive lass. Yes, that was a backhanded compliment!

    Along with a handsome 1.25-metre-wide tennis ball (take note, whoever is responsible for Westbury’s Big Wickets) the Big Tennis Racquet forms a Doubles Team even the Woodies would be envious of. He lives by the side of Barellan‘s sleepy main street, so you won’t be strung along trying to find him. Sorry, it was my fault for that bad joke!

    If, like me, you have three left feet and are drawn more to the arts than sports, the Big Playable Guitar is just down the road at Narrandera – rock on!

    The only small annoyance is that some silly goose planted a decorative bush in baseline-of-sight of this Big, making photos slightly more difficult than they should be. Hopefully they twig to this issue and remove the shrub beforehand it causes further problems.

    Take advantage of the Barellan hospitality, because you’ll have a ball visiting the Big Tennis Racquet. My rating? Ten out of Tennis!

  • Frilly the Lizard, Somersby, NSW

    Frilly the Lizard, Australian Reptile Park, Somersby, Australia

    You might think it’s silly, but I’m in love with a man who’s frilly! For a frill-a-minute encounter with a cold-blooded cutie, head to spectacular Somersby on the scenic Central Coast. Honestly, you’ll be reptiling from ear to ear when you meet this gigantic frilled-neck lizard… but a word of warning, he has a fiery side to him!

    Frilly was painstakingly constructed by the geniuses at Natureworks in 1997, and found a home at the Australian Reptile Park shortly after its relocation from Wyoming. Along with the matriarch of Aussie Big Things, Ploddy the Dinosaur, he lured thousands of visitors to the region, and it was all smiles and crocodiles. Then tragedy struck.

    In the dead of winter, July 17, 2000 – a date no lover of Bigs will ever forget – a ruthless fire ripped through the park, leaving a trail of terror in its wake. A nation celebrated as one when Frilly and Ploddy, the indestructible lizards of Oz, stepped through the hellfire to become beacons of hope for a mourning community.

    There must be something in the water that makes this region’s Bigs imperishable, because the Big Prawn also survived a barbecue attempt. Hopefully Alan Davidson’s Balls and the Big Poppies won’t be next in the firing line!

    Heartbreakingly, hundreds of innocent critters didn’t make it, with only a pig-nosed turtle named Miss Piggy and an alligator snapping turtle named The Terminator surviving. But it was the park’s owners saying, “I’ll be back!”

    They scrambled to rebuild the Aussie Reptile Park, placing Frilly proudly atop at the entrance to welcome visitors. He was soon joined by the dashing Daryl Somersby and the sultry Lizzo to create a true mecca for Big Thing aficionados. With so many large-scale lizards on display, when are goanna visit?

  • Stanley the Emu, Lightning Ridge, NSW

    Everybody’s heard about this bird, which isn’t surprising because Stanley’s 18 metres tall and one of the nest-looking Big Things around. Yes, he’s aviary nice chap indeed!

    The elegant emu was lovingly crafted by local artist John Murray out of old VW Beetle bonnets and doors, then placed atop a stunning steel girder. This gem took up residence on the outskirts of the opal-mining village of Lightning Ridge in 2013, but he was o-Ridge-inally destined, quite appropriately, for Birdsville.

    “The tyranny of distance made it too expensive to truck him into Queensland,” Senhor Murray told a gobsmacked journalist from the Sydney Morning Herald.

    “The bloke in Birdsville wanted to call him Big Bird and put him out on the Birdsville Track in XXXX colours. I wasn’t too keen on painting my bird yellow and red, but even less enamoured about having my work used to promote beer. So the Ridge got him.”

    Oh, what flight have been!

    The best news is there could soon be more Bigs feather down the road… and I’m not talking about Murray the Cod. Walgett Council is holding a competition to encourage farmers to build their own roadside attractions, with the wing-er to receive $10,000. They might have to change the name from Lightning Ridge to Big Thing Ridge!

  • Alan Davidson’s Balls, Wyoming, NSW

    Have a bowl, have a bat. Howzat! Howzat! Add eight Bigs to your score – all balls!

    Alright, alright, settle down! You’ve had a good giggle at the name of these Bigs, now it’s time to take an in-depth look at Alan Davidson’s Balls. Oi, I said quit it!

    There are seven oversized cricket balls dotted around the picturesque Alan Davidson Oval, each emblazoned with a ‘Davo Fact’ such as how many home runs the eponymous cricket superstar hit. It’s certainly fun to wander around the grounds, occasionally spotting a big, shiny ball peeking shyly through the bushes.

    The world was exposed to Alan Davidson’s Balls in 2015, when artist Margrete Erling – who also delivered the nearby Big Poppies – threw them into the scrum. And as you can see, they look as pretty as a pitcher. At 80cm, these aren’t the largest balls I’ve encountered, but size isn’t everything. It’s all about the texture, the shape, and how much fun they are to sit on. Oh, grow up!

    They’ll bowl you over!

    There’s also a set of Big Stumps, but they pale in comparison to Westbury’s version and look like a bunch of rotting telegraph poles. Whilst I’m being a bit catty, the build quality of the Balls is atrocious and they’re falling apart. I assumed they were several decades old, and was appalled when I discovered they’re some of the youngest Bigs in Australia. Thanks, former mayor of Gosford Lawrie McKinna!

    For the tough guys, a lone Big Soccer Ball is also on display, and I made the most of it by turning up for my photo shoot in a festive sporting tunic. Look at me, all dressed up as a brawny footballer! Grrr, I’m Toni Lockett, run at me, bro! Actually, don’t run at me as I’m not one for physical activity or severe beatings.

    For those alpha males with a softer side, the Big Flower is only minutes away. You don’t have to be a pansy to visit!

    These balls really score a strike and, needless to say, I had a great time climbing all over Alan Davidson’s Balls. Ok, ok laugh it up, you big baby! Honestly, sometimes I don’t know why I bother.

  • The Big Wine Bottle, Pokolbin, NSW

    The Big Wine Bottle, Pokolbin, New South Wales

    Wine me, dine me, 21-foot-nine me! No visit to New South Wales’ Wine Country is complete without sharing a cheeky glass of red with this vine fellow, who’s been baffling drunkards since 1998.

    The Big Wine Bottle takes pride of place at the sprawling Hunter Valley Gardens, which offers an array of restaurants and gift shops against a backdrop of rolling fields. A visit is a grape opportunity to eat your body weight in cheese and have a blood alcohol level higher than your age by 11am.

    The Bottle’s bulbous bottom has space for an open fire – perfect for those chilly winter nights – with the neck forming a charming chimney. He’s located in the shade of a pleasant tree and, like the similarly-sized Big Bundy Rum Bottle, it’s no cham-pain to grab a photo, so wine not see him today?

    If you’re on a winery tour of Big Things, pop over to Rutherglen to drink in the delights of their 36-metre-tall bottle! Oh, and you’ll need a Big Corkscrew, which you can find in Berrima!

    I visited the Pokolbin Wine Bottle during a chum’s Hen’s Night, and unfortunately overindulged on Tyrrell’s Pinot noir and chocolate macarons. I ended up bursting into tears and wailing about how I’ll never find a giant roadside attraction who’ll love me for me, and a sémillon other silly things. Thankfully, when I woke up the next morning, the world looked a little more rosé.

    I told that joke to the Big Wine Bottle, but he just gave me a sauvignon blanc stare.

  • 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!

  • The Big Gold Pick and Pan, Grenfell, NSW

    The Big Gold Pick and Pan, Grenfell, New South Wales

    You can’t pan-dle the truth! Actually, you probably can, because it’s an indisputable fact that the Big Gold Pick and Pan are ri-pick-ulously magnificent! The cheerful chums were built by another legendary pair – Peter Mason and Tony Durham – under the supervision of the Grenfell Men’s Shed, in recognition of Grenfell’s history as a gold town.

    But first, a confession. When I was told about the Big Gold Pick and Pan several years ago, I misheard and believed the attraction to be the Big Gold Peter Pan. As a boy who refuses to grow up, I understandably made it my life’s ambition to meet my hero. Imagine my surprise when I turned up in Grenfell, resplendent in my green tights and felt hat, only to be met by a set of oversized gold mining implements!

    The ten-foot tools were up against it from the outset, but I’m happy to say they briskly dug their way into my heart. Yes, it might sound like I’m pan-dering to them and pick-ing favourites, but along with the Big Axe they’re the most glorious utensils I’ve ever met. I think even the Big Gold Panner would approve!

    A Bunch of Tools

    Despite the simple nature of the subjects (don’t tell them I said that!), the Pick and Pan are easy to take a photo with and easily accessible in the middle of vibrant Grenfell. In fact, they’re the centrepiece of a community-funded campsite, so it’s possible to sleep right next to them!

    As a keen camper I was never going to miss that opportunity, and shared a cheeky glass of Pinot noir with the Bigs as a stunning sunset painted Grenfell colours I can’t even describe. I turned in early, content with my day’s adventuring, but a funny thing happened during the night. Being so close to my friends, I could feel their presence and hear them calling to me – just as Ploddy has throughout my life.

    I visited them several times beneath the light of a silvery moon, until I eventually decided that resisting their siren song was futile. The Pick and Pan wanted a sleepover, so I grabbed my handsome wearable sleeping bag and snuggled in for the night. We gossiped, we sang pop songs, we opened up with secrets we’d never told anyone else.

    I can honestly say I’ve never had a more peaceful sleep. Come the morning, as the birds sand to awaken the people of Grenfell, I enjoyed a cup of coffee with the Big Pick and Pan, said a tearful goodbye, and regretfully left town. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

  • The Big Prawn, Crangan Bay, NSW

    The Big Prawn, Crangan bay, New South Wales, Australia

    BREAKING NEWS: It’s with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of the beautiful, whimsical Big Prawn. Our fearless friend was found dismembered on the morning of August 5, 2023, his head and legs sawn off by an angle grinder and stolen. Police believe they could turn up on the black market.

    Next time you pick up a bag of frozen prawns, please, please check if there’s a metre-long metal head and some sawn-off chelas in there. With some luck, we can put the Prawn back together before he’s smuggled out of the country.

    Don’t try to slip this shrimp on the barbie, because he’s uncookable! The Big Prawn was caught in furious bushfires in 2013, which saw everything around the durable decapod – including the service station he was perched in front of – burnt to a crisp.

    He now looks a little lonely by the side of the Old Pacific Highway in Lake Macquarie, surrounded by rubble and trapped behind an old fence. But wipe away those tears, because the future is bright for our fire-fighting friend, with a bidding war raging for his ownership.

    Controversy erupted in 2020 when nearby Central Coast Council made a play to buy the prawn to welcome visitors heading south – as Ploddy does to those coming up from Sydney.

    “People often say we don’t get any attention in the north,” Councillor Jillian Hogan told a concerned reporter from the ABC. “Well, the Big Prawn is a good way of getting some attention!”

    Don’t come the raw prawn!

    However, with Central Coast Council drowning in debt, the move looks unlikely – which is music to the ears of the prawn’s creator, local legend Shane Simpson. He designed the creature in 1991 at the behest of a popular fish-and-chip shop, and based his design on a huge crustacean shipped up from Tasmania especially for the project.

    “We’d love to see it stay in Lake Macquarie, only for the fact that every time I drive past I tell the grandkids I made it,” he exclaimed. “We made it with a fire-resistant resin, and it did its job – it didn’t melt!”

    Just like his big brother in Ballina, the Crangan Bay Prawn has scurried through the fire and found peace and contentment on the other side. He was recently joined by the Big Pine Cones in nearby Caves Beach, in what is fast becoming a hotbed for Big action. Ah, sorry for the insensitive wordplay, buddy!

  • The Big Pine Cones, Caves Beach, NSW

    The Big Pine Cones, Caves Beach, New South Wales

    Pining for some Bigs with a view? Then cone on down to splendid Caves Beach, which boasts sparkling blue water, resplendent golden sand, and two of the largest pine cones you’re ever likely to see!

    Officially known as Norfolk – after the spiky spheres dropped by the many Norfolk Island pines growing in the area – these stately seed pods were created by Newcastle-based artist/beekeeper Kelly-Ann Lees in 2019. Pine and Cone, as I prefer to call them, stand 1.5 metres tall and are just the right size for cuddles!

    You might have noticed they’re rusting away, but don’t fret, because they were designed to evolve along with the coastal environment. No cones about it, they simply get more beautiful every day!

    These brown bombshells aren’t the cone-ly Bigs in Lake Macquarie, with the inimitable Big Prawn only 15 minutes away. Do your wood seed for the day and say hello to all three of these coastal cuties.

    Honestly, if I had a conifer every pine someone told me how ex-tree-mely nice these guys are, I’d be a rich Bigs Bardot!

  • The Big Murray Cod, Tocumwal, NSW

    The Big Murray Cod, Tocumwal, New South Wales

    “Oh my cod, isn’t he big!”

    Visitors to the river village of Tocumwal have been exclaiming this for almost six decades, and this water-dwelling dreamboat has lived a life most of us would be en-fish-ious of.

    This bulky baby boomer’s story starts in the swingin’ 60s, when three of the more rebellious members of the local Chamber of Commerce decided the town needed something exciting to draw in tourists. They looked northward to Ploddy the Dinosaur, who was luring streams of Big-ficianados into Gosford, and a fish of epic proportions was soon on the carps… uh, sorry, make that the cards!

    Big Thing visionaries Kathryn Moore, Alice Johnson and Lorna Nash held dozens of dances and sizzled sufficient sausages to raise the £3000 required to build the aquatic amigo. He was designed by Melbourne’s Duralite Company, and made from fiberglass with a steel skeleton. His outer details – such as his suave scrap metal fins – were lovingly added by volunteers and admirers.

    The Big Murray Cod was o-fish-ially unveiled at a gala ceremony and quickly became a symbol of Berrigan Shire’s burgeoning counter-culture movement. His arrival ushered in a summer of love, with long-haired hippies, flower children, beatniks and other assorted delinquents rolling into Tocumwal to smack him right on the lips!

    You’re carping on and on… When will this fin-ish?

    The ’70s saw bell-bottom pants and safari suits find favour. But the Big Murray Cod wasn’t a slave to fashion and, aside from a few repaints, barely changed his look. Things took a grim turn in 1982, however, when the good people of Swan Hill, Victoria, erected a Giant Murray Cod of their own.

    Bigger and fishier than the Tocumwal version, it was feared he’d hog all the glory. But the original still reels in the tourists – and there’s no de-baiting that!

    Flannelette and a sullen attitude were the fish’s forte in the ’90s, and he was ahead of the tech curve by opening his own MySpace page in the 2000s. His family has since expanded to include Murray cods in St George and Tintaldra. The younger fish have grown up to be respected members of their communities, so obviously weren’t cod-dled as larvae.

    This Big has settled down in recent years and is content, like most his age, to spend his days reading Aldi catalogues and preventing younger Bigs – such as the nearby Big Strawberry – from owning real estate. After so many years and such wild adventures, there are still a gill-ion reason to visit him, and it feels like Woodstock whenever one spends time with this fish.

    It’s safe to say things are going swimmingly for the Big Murray Cod!

    Please note: the plaque beneath this fish erroneously identifies him as the second oldest of the Bigs, but this honour actually belongs to the Big Banana, with Ploddy being the OG Big. Upon discovering this sickening glitch, I raced straight to the mayor’s office and was assured that the plaque would be corrected as a matter of urgency. I’m sorry, but there are some fins that I just can’t let go!

  • Digby the Dinosaur, Albury, NSW

    Digby the Dinosaur, Albury, New South Wales

    Open the door, get on the floor
    Everybody walk with Digby the Dinosaur!

    She might be 65 million years old, but this delightful dino is still a big kid at heart. Digby lives in Albury Botanic Gardens’ wonderfully-presented Children’s Garden and is more than happy to be kissed, cuddled and climbed upon. It’s safe to say she’s dinos-awfully popular!

    Digby’s not as famous as her aunty Ploddy or as grand as her uncle Big Kev, but is every bit as remarkable. She’s immense yet adorable, vivacious yet shy, and incredibly unique. Oh, and those eyes are to die-nosaur for! You can find her hiding away in the trees, head to the ground to say hello to her friends.

    For those who are overwhelmed by Bigs on this scale, Digby’s baby son Diego is playing blissfully nearby – and he’ll fill you with joy. There are also cubby houses, a fairy temple, and a terrifying troll cave that I was too much of a sissy to enter!

    After a big morning of playing with Digby and Diego, why not head to the nearby World’s Biggest Rolling Pin for a sandwich at their dino… uh, I mean diner!

  • The Big Apple, Tallong, NSW

    The Big Apple, Tallong, New South Wales

    The Southern Highlands of New South Wales has Big Things apple-nty, but none are as scrumptious as this crimson cutie! The Big Apple is of epic proportions, astonishingly detailed – just look at his hyper-realistic leaf – and always in season!

    Tallong legend Jim ‘The Apple Man’ Watling set the peels in motion in 1988. He commissioned a chap named Carl Zeschke to build a fitting tribute to the area’s vivacious agricultural industry. The Apple sat contentedly atop Jim’s shed for three decades, luring in customers to buy fresh fruit.

    Not surprisingly, he became the apple of Jim’s eye!

    It’s Tallong way to the top if you wanna Big Apple!

    The healthy heartthrob was removed in 2017, presumably because it was impossible to get any work done with him around. Fortunately, he was soon popped on a pedestal in the sprawling Tallong Memorial Park. He was even provided with a canopy to keep him nice and dry. The grand unveiling was a Royal Gala event, with throngs of locals and several Pink Ladies in attendance.

    He now takes pride of place plum in the middle of the rustic village, inspiring a new generation of Big Thing fanatics. There’s even a delightful playground for the kiddies to explore as Mum and Dad gaze in open-mouthed wonder at the Apple. What a perfect way to apple fritter away a an afternoon!

    Things are not as peachy as they seem, however. The good people of Tallong are in a brutal dis-fruit with the residents of Yerrinbool, home to a rival Big Apple. Reminiscent of similar unrest between fans of the pear of Big Pineapples, the feud stems from the fact each community believes their Big is the one true Big Apple, and neither looks like they’ll crumble. Honestly, guys, make juice, not war! Hopefully continuing discussions between village elders will prove fruitful.

    And please, nobody tell them about Batlow’s bevy of Big Apples!

    If it’s been too long since you’ve been to Tallong, the time’s ripe to visit the Big Apple!

  • Ossie the Mossie, Hexham, NSW

    Put the Mortein away, he’s friendly! Ossie the Mossie watches vigilantly over the much-loved Hexham Bowling Club, and after giving him a good insect-ion I’m pleased to report that he certainly doesn’t suck!

    Hexham Grey mosquitos have long been the bowlo’s symbol, so in 1994 members cobbled together $17,200 to build a personable pest of epic proportions. Basing his design on an oversized chicken displayed at a nearby car dealership, he was introduced by Lord Mayor John McNaughton to unprecedented scenes of jubilation. Of course some of the local bar-flys found Ossie to be quite buzz-arre, but ultimately warmed to him.

    Like me, this super-detailed Big Thing is a real social butterfly! His legion of admirers certainly enjoyed honking their horns as they drove past during our photo shoot. We were like two peas in a pod but, whilst I’m a natural beauty, Ossie has had some work done to retain his youthful complexion.

    Handsome from his head to his mosqui-toes

    “Ossie had some plastic surgery in 2004 and 2008 because of damage from the elements and other insects,” former Secretary Manager Jon Chin told an enraptured reporter from The Hunter Headline.

    “He had another ‘nip and tuck’ in 2010 when the Roads and Maritime Service ordered Ossie be moved back four metres to assist with the widening of the Pacific Highway. That time he received some animation including glowing green eyes, a new red belly, and a neon nose.”

    After gawping in open-jawed wonder at Ossie and taking a few (hundred!) photos with him, make sure you pop into the club. Not only are the staff delightful, but the Riverside Bistro offers a banquet menu that’s to die for. Don’t pass away, however, because the Big Kookaburra and the Big Ugg Boots are tantalisingly close and well worth visiting. Or perhaps you feel drawn towards the Big Pencil?

    Alright, alright, I’ll stop bugging you now – bye!

    A quick note: Unfortunately this post has received a number of disturbing comments referencing (forgive my language here) Ossie’s ‘big prick’, or variations thereof. Seriously guys, act your age and not your shoe size. Such ‘humour’ will not be glamorised on this website.

  • 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 Cherries, Young, NSW

    The Big Cherries, Young, New South Wales

    Young is a prosperous inland city with a rich agricultural history, and having their very own Big is the cherry on top! This trio of tasty treats were unveiled in 1983 to rapturous applause, cementing Young’s reputation as the cherry capital of the world. If you’re cherry-picking your favourite Bigs, take a fruitful journey out to see them!

    The red rascals hang daintily next to Young’s historic train station, which offers a small range of tea towels, postcards and magnets with the Cherries on them. Step off the platform and, before your cherry eyes, there they are – three wonderful, glorious cherries peering whimsically over the main street.

    Whilst the monument gives our Bigs the reverence they deserve, I must be ‘that guy’ and take umbrage with the height of it. The Cherries are simply too elevated for a great happy snap, and it’s difficult to attain a true appreciation of their size. However, I’m willing to cherry the hatchet if the local council are willing to make them slightly easier to pick (and pan)!

    Best visited during the National Cherry Festival in December each year, Young is something of a sister city to Chinchilla, who has its own Big Melon and the zany MelonFest. That’s what I like to see – communities as obsessed with their Bigs as I am!

    If you want a wilder, more elusive cherry – and one who wears sunglasses almost as cool as mine! – why not join my quest to meet Victoria’s supercooool Big Cherry? He’s gone into hiding, as any great rockstar has, but with a little encouragement we can bring him back into the public eye.

    In any case, don’t cherry your head in the sand, roll out to Young to eat, drink and be cherry. Thank you cherry much!

  • 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 Apple, Yerrinbool, NSW

    The Big Apple, Yerrinbool, New South Wales

    If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, the good people of the Southern Highlands mustn’t have seen a quack in years! The un-Bool-ievable snack is conveniently located just off the Hume Highway and is as fresh as the day it fell off the tree.

    Despite being de-cider-edly larger than anything you’ll find at a green grocer, you’ll be disappointed if expecting something on the scale of the Big Melon, Big Banana or Big Pineapple. It’s still very apple-ing, though!

    The beachball-sized Red Delicious poses pompously atop a quaint sign for the historic Tennessee Orchard, which until recently offered a mouthwatering array of fruit, veggies, marmalades, jams, chutneys and eggs. Tragically the farm is currently closed, after being core-t in a freak hail storm a few years ago.

    This Big Apple is just one of nearly a dozen variations spread around Australia – in fact, there’s another less than an hour down the road at Tallong, and the two fanbases have developed a heated rivalry. You’ll have to visit them all to see which one’s the pick of the bunch!

  • The Big, Beautiful Axe, Kew, NSW

    The Big Axe, Kew, New South Wales

    I’m a lumberjack and I’m OK
    I sleep all night and visit Bigs all day!

    Axe yourself this – how much excitement can you handle? If the answer is ‘plenty’, then swing by this towering tool and get ready to chop till you drop!

    A fixture of the exquisite Camden Haven district since 1979, the wonderful whacker celebrates the local timber industry and rests happily beside the iKew Visitor Information Centre. He was replaced in 2002 after famished termites did a real hatchet job on him, but when I stopped by in 2015 he was in a poor state once again. Trust me, I had an axe to grind with those responsible!

    Sadly, the centre also suffered from a severe lack of Big Axe memorabilia. I carefully explained to the kind woman behind the counter that it was a missed opportunity, and that I would return in several years to reassess the situation.

    I’m thrilled to say the Axe’s splinter of discontent is over! The Big Axe was completely rebuilt by cleaver members of the Kendall Men’s Shed, and the natives were Kew-ing up when it was unveiled in 2017. The 800kg tomahawk now rests on supports that are two metres shorter than the old ones, making happy snaps a little easier.

    A magnetic attraction

    Best of all, Brazilian Big Thing guru Bebezinga Grande and I were elated to discover the Visitor Centre now offers not one but two Big Axe magnets. The gentlemen in attendance thanked me for my dedication to the cause, and those magnets have now become a sought-after home decorating accessory in South America.

    The chop-ularity of the Big Axe has even led to a replica in Western Sydney. Alright, they’re not axe-actly the same, but they’re close enough.

    Whilst the Pacific Highway bypassed Kew years ago, this Big can be reached with a short detour on your way north towards the Big Golden Dog or south to the Big Oyster. The volunteers at the Visitor Centre are always up for a chat, so make sure you don’t axe-dentally pass it by!

  • The Big Banana, Coffs Harbour, NSW

    Football, meat pies, kangaroos and the Big Banana. This prodigious plantain has grown to become a huge part of Australia’s national identity. He represents this great country’s culture and history, hopes and dreams. Every child holds fond memories of popping into the Banana on a road trip up north, having their photo snapped in front of the Coffs Harbour icon, and then smashing into a delicious chocolate-covered frozen banana at the adjoining cafe.

    This is Australia, distilled to her essence and molded into one 13-metre-long potassium-powered Big Thing.

    The Big Banana sits proudly above the Pacific Highway and is unmissable as you drive past. He’s massive, bright, and exquisitely crafted. The friendly fruit is also perfectly positioned for a photo (as the long lines prove!) and is large enough to walk through. The small yet absolutely fascinating agricultural exhibit inside is unmissable.

    If you feel like monkeying around, the Banana-themed fun park really Caven-dishes up the thrills! Peel off your clothes at the water park, spend an elongated afternoon at the putt-putt golf, or take on the terrifying toboggan ride, which is suitable for both men and lady-fingers.

    For those who flat out refuse to eat anything that’s not yellow, there’s a mouthwatering cheesemaking workshop. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, head to the cafe for a banana split (fortunately they’re available seven days a week, not just on sundaes). Unfortunately I’m no longer able to enjoy this delicious treat due to an unfortunate incident during my childhood – but don’t let that stop you from tucking in!

    Australia goes bananas!

    Banana salesman John Landi dreamed up the yellow fellow in 1964, to get tourists to stop by his fruit stand. After hiring – and subsequently firing – a local youth to dress as a gorilla and dance for traffic, he heard word of a pineapple of epic proportions that was doing a roaring trade in Hawaii. The time was ripe to jump on the Big Thing bandwagon, so he tapped engineer Alan Chapman and builder Alan Harvey to make it happen. It had to B1 of the best decisions ever!

    Construction ran smoothly and the Big Banana opened a year after Australia’s first giant roadside attraction, North Gosford’s Ploddy the Dinosaur, snarled his way into our hearts in 1963. That hasn’t prevented the Banana’s owners from falsely promoting him as the original Big Thing – but that’s a bunch of lies!

    Success was immediate, with Bananarama taking over Australia, and the plantation was greatly expanded to cover most of the surrounding hillside area. Giant produce, such as the original Big Pineapple and the Bilpin Fruit Bowl, popped up around the country in tribute. The profile of the ‘King of the Bigs’ exploded, culminating in a massive period of growth in the late-80s, when a whole bunch of exciting attractions were brought in from the recent Expo ’88 in Brisbane. There was even a train ride with a terrifying bunyip, which I particularly enjoyed as a young chap!

    The Banana goes rotten!

    The Big Banana was hailed as Australia’s Big Yellow Smile and became more famous than the Great Barrier Reef and the Sydney Opera House combined. But things were about to get rotten for vitamin-fuelled lothario. A few bad business decisions and a general perception that Big Things weren’t cool anymore (they always were and always will be, of course) led to the massive decline of the park.

    A number of the attractions were sold off – including the poor bunyip – and the Banana was left to wilt in the hot North Coast sun. Like the Big Pineapple and the Big Prawn, it seemed like this decaying delicacy had passed its best-before date.

    Proving miracles do happen, some more investment came in, the park was expanded again, and the Big Banana was given a new lease on life. The Banana has returned to its rightful place as one of the world’s greatest tourist attractions, on par with Disneyland and Machu Picchu, and no Australian child shall ever go without a visit to this humongous health food. Raise your chocolate-coated frozen bananas high in the air, as we toast the beating heart of Australian society.

  • Ploddy the Big Dinosaur, Somersby, NSW

    Ploddy the Dinosaur, Somersby, New South Wales

    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.

  • 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 Miner’s Lamp, Lithgow, NSW

    The Big Miner's Lamp, Lithgow, New South Wales

    They say the smile of a Lithgow local could light up the darkest night, so it’s appropriate that the town is home to the world’s largest miner’s lamp. I’m sure you’ll find a visit to this behemoth beacon, two hours west of Sydney, to be an illuminating experience!

    The Big Miner’s Lamp is one of the more sizable Bigs, but I didn’t even realise what it was until I stopped by and gave it a good look. It’s not well publicised and gives the impression that the lantern was plopped on top of the building as an afterthought.

    I’ve always had my reservations about Bigs that weren’t originally designed as such, and this structure is a glowing example of this concerning trend. I apologise if that statement was somewhat incendiary! The Big Lamp, however, should still be kero-seen.

    The area’s Visitor Information Centre resides within the bowels of the large lantern, and the friendly volunteers are only too happy to point you in the direction of Lithgow’s other highlights, such as the breathtaking Hassan’s Walls lookout and the quirky Small Arms Factory.

    The girls might even let you know how to get to some nearby Big Things, such as the historic Big Fruit Bowl at Bilpin and the outrageous Big Gold Panner at Bathurst.

    They outshine the Big Lamp who, by comparison, can come across as a bit reserved. A wackier, more inventive design could’ve gone a long way to changing Lithgow’s dreary reputation. But you know you want to see it, so don’t torch-er yourself, check it out today!

  • The Big Fruit Bowl, Bilpin, NSW

    The Bilpin Fruit Bowl, Bilpin. New South Wales

    Aussies are berry much in love with giant fruits, with the Big Banana, Big Melon, Big Pineapple and Big Mango currant-ly amongst the country’s most popular roadside attractions. Consider Bilpin’s Big Fruit Bowl to be a sort of grap-est hits collection, with a wide variety of fresh produce all in one place, and some sub-lime sculpting skills on display.

    Despite looking a little tired and in need of a lick of paint, the Bilpin Fruit Bowl is exquisitely designed, detailed, and easy to take a photo with. At two metres tall it’s big enough to take one’s breath away, without being too large to appreciate the finer features. Whilst I visited alone, I can imagine it would be a wonderful place to take a date.

    The Big Fruit Bowl is plum by the side of the main road as you cross the Blue-berry Mountains. The adjacent fruit shop and the sprawling peach, apple and nectarine fields behind it have been owned and operated by the Tadrosse family since 1985, and this Big Thing sprouted around that time. It’s possible to pick your own fruit on a weekend – the perfect souvenir of a delicious day out.

    And then one grapeful day…

    Tragedy struck in 2019, when ferocious bushfires roared through the region and destroyed a large portion of the Fruit Bowl’s farmland. More than 6000 fruit trees were razed, causing more than $3 million damage. The Bilpin Fruit bow, thankfully, was saved from a flaming fate. Small mercies, big fruit!

    This fruity bunch are a great part of history, located in a beautiful village surrounded by natural wonders. It’s possible to go hiking, camping and traipsing through award-winning gardens in a single afternoon. The local cider is particularly enjoyable. The apple and strawberry variety will bowl you over, and there are non-alcoholic options for the kiddies.

    Pull up a chair, citrus in the shade, and admire Bilpin’s Big Fruit Bowl!

  • The Big Fish, Manilla, NSW

    The Big Fish, Manilla, New South Wales

    After herring rumours of a big fish in Manilla – the lovely country town half-an-hour from Tamworth’s Big Golden Guitar, not the capital of The Philippines – I was hooked on the idea of tracking it down. After taking some time to mullet over, I headed out there, and am happy to say that it reely was worth it. In fact, standing next to this fishface, with his delightful top hat and cane, we both felt a little underdressed!

    Details of when the Big Fish was constructed are a bit fin on the ground. Locals de-bait when he first swam into Manilla. All I know is that he’s an impressive seven metres tall, and goofy-looking enough to splash his way into anyone’s heart. Despite being the same species, he’s about as different from St George’s modern and artistic Murray the Cod, Tocumwal’s historic Cod, or Darwin’s whimsical Big Barramundi, as you can imagine.

    The giant groper stands proudly outside the Big Fish Roadhouse in the middle of town, which is sadly closed these days. We didn’t go hungry, though, because Manilla boasts a generous selection of restaurants, pubs and clubs, and we were feeling a little green around the gills after stuffing ourselves with delicious food at the Royal Hotel!

    Manilla’s also home to an historic Chinese cemetery, a delightful campground by the Namoi River, and one of the world’s most famous paragliding launches. All in all, it was a good excuse to get trout and about, and the day went swimmingly. I fish I had more time to spend with my new mate, but was very pleased with the happy snapper I took!

  • The Big Pineapple, Ballina, NSW

    The Big Pineapple, Ballina, New South Wales

    If imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, the original Big Pineapple must have an ego even bigger than he is! This North Coast icon has spawned spiky spin-offs around the world, from Woombye and Gympie in Queensland to Bathurst in South Africa, but to many he’s still the most scrumptious tropical treat.

    At a modest four metres from supple bottom to prickly top, the Ballina Pineapple is outsized by his imitators. He’s a quirky throwback to a gentler time – like Gumlu’s Big Watermelon, which is dwarfed by Chinchilla’s Big Melon. He’s certainly not lonely, with his disciples often stopping by for a photo. His best mate, the Big Prawn, also lives right down the road. Maybe they should change the name of the town to Ba-large-na!

    Little is known about the age of the Pineapple, or who built him. Most locals believe he’s been sitting outside the BP service station since the beginning of time. It would be easy to fritter away an afternoon speculating on when he was built. Ultimately, however, it would ultimately be a fruit-ile endeavour. I definitely don’t remember a time when my spherical chum wasn’t a focal point of any trip up north!

    There’s just enough space to squeeze inside the juicy giant. It’s even possible to pop your cheery little face out the window for a memorable photo. Just look how happy my Brazilian companion Bebezinha Grande was to meet him! Abaca-she had the time of her life!

    All in all, the Big Pineapple makes for a pine day out!

  • 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!