Category: Victoria

  • Arnold the Giant Murray Cod, Swan Hill, Vic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    A Star is Spawned

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Honestly, what more could you fish for!

    Hey Arnold!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Kingfisher, Strathfieldsaye, VIC

    The Big Kingfisher, Strathfieldsaye, Victoria, Australia

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Hail to the Kingfisher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    The Last Kingfisher of Bendigo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Giant Koala, Dadswells Bridge, VIC

    Sam the Giant Koala, Dadswells Bridge, Victoria, Australia

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

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

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

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

    How much can a koala bear?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    All’s well that Dadswells

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Norbert the Yellow Dragon, Mooroopna, VIC

    Norbert the Yellow Dragon, Mooroopna, Victoria, Australia

    ‘Bert, the magic dragon lived near Ernie
    And frolicked in the autumn sun in Shepparton, you see
    Little Bigs Bardot loved that rascal ‘Bert
    And brought him strings, and funny things, and even peach yoghurt

    Norbert the Yellow Dragon is friendly chap – and the Gaffy family, who constructed the creature as a holiday art project, couldn’t be more disappointed. If they had their way, Norbert would be a soul-devouring, fire-breathing, child-scaring thunder lizard who destroys anyone foolish enough to stand in his way.

    “There were talks of installing flame-throwers on it,” David Gaffy told a concerned journalist when the dragon was unveiled in 2017. “But perhaps that’s not the best idea.”

    What, David, no chainsaws or death rays or vats of bubbling oil that boil visitors? As the patriarch of a brutally creative family, David wasn’t alone in his fanciful plans for this very unique-looking Big.

    “I was actually thinking of it being 50 times bigger than it is,” his eight-year-old son, Hamish gloated. “It’s the dragon from Harry Potter.”

    Young Hamish came up with the idea for Norbert whilst visiting his pop’s farm just outside Shepparton, and wasted no time sketching the plans for the golden goliath on a bit of paper. Generations of Gaffys then descended upon the ranch to make the little boy’s dreams come true.

    “Hamish really enjoyed the fact it became a whole family project,” David beamed. “Uncle Tim helped with the welding, Grandpa came up with the idea for the tail. The opportunity to get our hands dirty was too good to pass up.”

    I would’ve helped, of course, but I was getting my hair permed that day. Maybe next time! And there will be a next time, because Hamish has BIG plans for a space rocket and a phoenix to join Norbert, who lives on the corner of Pyke Rd and Mooroopna-Murchinson Rd.

    Next time you’re passing, make sure to give Norbert a hearty, “Yellow, mate!”

    How to Restrain Your Dragon

    Driving the Bigsmobile between my bachelor pad in Shepp’s leafy north-west and my weekender in Waranga Shores, my heart skipped a beat as I heard the dulcet tones of a damsel in distress. With little concern for my own safety I screeched the van to a halt, popped on my most menacing pair of pineapple-shaped sunglasses, and prepared myself for the worst.

    Imagine my surprise when I came face-to-muzzle with the normally-placid Norbert – wild of eye and flaxen of skin – with my best chum Gordon Shumway betwixt his powerful jaws. This was not the gregarious dragon I’d so often shared strawberry soufflé with at the Shepparton Gentlemen’s Club.

    “Oh, Norbert,” I gasped, “all this snarling and snatching innocents isn’t really you, is it?”

    The fire in Norbert’s eyes dimmed and his shoulders slumped. He placed Gordon down on an especially pulpous thatch of grass, then hung his enormous head in shame.

    “My sincerest apologies, Biggsy,” Norbert wept. “I buckled under the irresistible weight of peer pressure and, against my better judgement, became the one thing I’ve always despised. I transformed into a brutish cliché of a dragon. Overflowing with testosterone and toxic masculinity, I lashed out at those I love most.”

    “I forgive you, Norbie,” I cooed, then gestured towards Gordon. “But someone else might take a bit more convincing.”

    Gordon dusted himself off and shrugged nonchalantly.

    “You’re forgiven, dude,” the little alien grinned. “I’m just glad Dave didn’t end up giving you that flame-thrower!”

  • The Big Pie, Hamilton, VIC

    The Big Pie, King's Bakery & Cafe, Hamilton, Victoria, AUstralia

    Got a BIG appetite after a BIG day tracking down BIG Things? Then head to the shop with the pie on top! King’s Bakery & Cafe has been an institution in Hamilton since 1913, feeding the masses with a splendid selection of cakes, pasties, sausages rolls, slices and sandwiches.

    It’s the square meat pies, however, that truly tickle the tastebuds. Steak and kidney, chicken and veggie, even the vaunted egg and bacon – each sumptuous parcel of golden, flaky pastry is full to the brim with juicy, tender meat and a heady mix of herbs and spices that will make you think you’ve pied and gone to heaven.

    So revered are these pies by the good people of the Grampians that the owners had no choice but to install a massive meat pie on the roof of the bakery. The eerily-realistic representation of the beloved snack serves as a beacon for the throngs of pie-lovers making their pilgrimage to this sacred site, and can be seen from all corners of Hamilton. After arriving, it’s all gravy!

    The Big Pie is at once both robust and saucy, demanding one’s attention with its severe angles and voluptuous, well-maintained torso. The only pie in the ointment is that, due to its position, this Big can be difficult to take a photo with. But, to be honest, being hit by a car as you trot across the Glenelg Highway is a small price to pay for such a wonderful photo op!

    When the moon hits your eye like Hamilton’s Big Pie – that’s amore!

    Feeling a bit cheeky, I pushed my hardline flexitarian diet to one side and gorged myself upon a brash, yet ever-so-slightly pompous beef burgundy pie with a generous dollop of tomato sauce. The service was snappy, my piping-hot meal served with a smile just as large as The Big Pie.

    As the rich gravy dripped down my chin, I was sequestered away upon a savoury tapestry of meaty scrumptiousness that would delight and tantalise even the most fastidious gastronomist. I knew that every decadent calorie was worth it – and I’m pretty sure I burnt off a week’s worth salivating over the nearby Big Bandicoot, anyway!

    Scoffing a mouthwatering cheese and onion pie as you take a selfie with this tempting treat should be enough to send anyone into a scrumptious food coma but, if you’re still hungry for more Big Pies, they’re certainly out there. Yatala’s Big Pie is widely regarded as Queensland’s greatest tourist attraction, whilst The Bilpin Apple Pie is a crust-see for those with a sweet tooth.

    Whichever Big Pie you choose to visit, I’m sure it’ll bake all your dreams come true!


  • The Golden Dragon Lotus, Bendigo, VIC

    The Golden Dragon Lotus, Bendigo, Victoria, Australia

    Nǐ hǎo, dear reader! Looks like you’ve caught me Peking at the extra-orchid-nary Golden Dragon Lotus! Built in 2010 as the centrepiece of Bendigo’s Dai Gum San Chinese district, the mandarin-credible specimen stands five metres tall and weighs about wonton. But really, it’s more than the dim sum of its parts.

    The wok-manship is simple yet elegant, like the finest Mao suit. The Lotus is lovely in any season, but is especially delicious during spring roll. If you become dis-orient-ed by the flower’s immense size, feel free to take a seat within its ovaries and petal yourself down.

    Interestingly, the Lotus was originally designed to have a much paler complexion, but the couple of Asian chaps who painted it accidentally used red paint instead. I guess it goes to show that two Wongs don’t make a white!

    After admiring such a big flower, it’s only Hunan to want to experience more Chinese art and history. Head Jinping-side the nearby Golden Dragon Museum, if you have the beef chow means to afford a ticket. It’s definitely worth the rice of admission.

    The only problem is that one hour after visiting the museum, you’ll be hungry for more Chinese culture!

    I like Chinese! I like Chinese!
    They only come up to your knees
    Yet they’re wise, and they’re witty, and they’re ready to please

    The Golden Dragon Lotus is surrounded by the Yi Yuan Garden, a peaceful oasis that feels like a happy little slice of the People’s Republic – with slightly less systematic torture, forced labour camps and midnight ‘disappearances’.

    Although a five-foot-tall lunatic who was passing by did scream at me to work a 90-hour week in an iPhone factory or he’d waterboard my family, which added a welcome element of authenticity.

    Keep walking, mate! This is Victoria, where the locals won’t put up with being placed under constant surveillance, abused by the police, hunted down for speaking out against the government, and locked up for years without committing a crime – teehee!

  • The Big Bandicoot, Hamilton, VIC

    The Big Bandicoot, Hamilton, Victoria, Australia

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

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

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

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

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

    Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Bandicoot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Emus, Strathfieldsaye, VIC

    The Big Emus, Strathfieldsaye, Victoria, Australia

    Let me tell you of an interview with The Real Big Emu
    He’s one of the most gorgeous Big Things, but the poor old fella ain’t got no wings
    Aren’t you jealous of The Big Wedge-Tailed Eagle? – dom ba da little da da da

    “While the eagle’s design is very sound, I keep my two feet firmly on the ground
    I can’t fly, but I’m telling you, I can run the pants off Kat the Kangaroo”.

    Doo dee ba doo doo doo, boo da Ugg Boot doo doo doo
    He can’t fly, but I’m telling you, he can run the pants off The Tassie Devil, too

    Well he was the model for the fifty cents – oom ba da little da da da
    Even though Stanley might’ve made more sense – oom ba da little da da da
    “If you take a look, it’ll prove to you, I ran the pants off Matilda the Kangaroo“

    Doo dee ba doo doo doo, boo da Bigfoot doo doo
    Take a look it’ll prove to you, he can run the pants off The Big Koala, too

    You’re a bigger nerd than The Big Bowerbird – Oom ba da little da da da
    And you’re not as pleasant as Bruno the Pheasant – Oom ba da little da da da
    “You silly galah, I’m better by far, than The Big Honeyeater or that chook that sells cars;
    They squeak and squawk and try to talk, I have more in common with those really big forks”
    Ba da da doo dee ba doo doo doo…Boo da da doot doo doo doo
    He can’t fly but I’m telling you, he’s almost as large as The Big Shoe

    Well the last time I saw The Real Big Emu – Oom ba da little da da da
    He was in Imagine Estate with a female he knew – Oom ba da little da da da
    As he swaggered past I heard him say, “She can’t fly, but I’m telling you
    She could run the pants off The Big Poo”

    Ba da da doo dee ba doo doo doo doo dee ba doo doo doo… The Big Strawberry’s in Koonoomoo!
    She’s can’t fly but I’m telling you, she can run the pants off Katey Seagull, too

    Well there is a moral to this ditty – Oom ba da little da da da
    Chickaletta can’t sing even though she’s pretty – Oom ba da little da da da
    Pelican Pete can swim, but he can’t sing, nor can The Pigeon on the wing
    Emu can’t fly, but I’m telling you, he can run the pants off The Big Moo-Moo

    Well the kookaburra laughed and said “It’s true, oom ba da little da da da,
    Ha Ha Ha Humpty Doo, He can dance the pants off Chinute Chinute, too!”

    Thanks to Aussie rock icon – and self-confessed Big Thing tragic – John Williamson, and his legendary ditty Old Man Emu for the inspiration. Can’t wait to catch up again soon, John!

  • The Big Murray Cod, Tintaldra, Vic

    The Big Murray Cod, Tintaldra, Victoria

    Tintaldra is an indigenous word that roughly translates to ‘a young man by the water’. I’m not sure what the indigenous word for ‘a young man by the water, admiring a predatory perch of epic proportions, before retiring to the nearby historic hotel for a glass of economically-priced pinot noir and a portion of the famous fish and chips’, but it might be time to change the town’s name to that.

    The Big Murray Cod swam smugly into Tintaldra – population 60 – in 2019, as part of a big budget scheme to bring more Big Things to the region. Whilst notably smaller than the nearby Big Murray Cod in Tocumwal, this perky peixe has the benefit of rotating with the wind.

    He also actually lives in a body of water, unlike pretty much every other oversized sea creature in Australia. Not even the much larger, much more famous Giant Murray Cod in Swan Hill can boast that!

    Picturesque Tintaldra is the oldest settlement along the Murray, dating back to 1837. As one of the only crossings between Victoria and New South Wales, it gained a reputation as a wild border town. The party came to a cataclysmic halt in 1937, when bushfires burnt much of Tintaldra to the ground.

    Dark days lay ahead for the town. But eight decades later, hope returned to Tintaldra when this fairly large fish was fin-stalled. These days, it’s estimated that Big Cod-related tourism makes up around 98% of the village’s economy.

    Thank Cod You’re Here

    The well-appointed Clearwater Caravan Park rests peacefully by the banks of the mighty Murray, and is the perfect place to base yourself ahead of a few days of hardcore Big Thing watching. To help plan your dream holiday to Tintaldra, I’ve drawn up a rough itinerary.

    DAY 1
    6am: Arrive in Tintaldra, head straight to the southern bank of the Murray to admire the Big Cod.
    1pm: Drag yourself away from the Big Cod for a hearty feast of salmon and asparagus with a side of locally-sauced sauvignon blanc at the newly-renovated Tintaldra Hotel and an in-depth discussion with the barman about the Big Cod.
    2pm: Climb atop the Tintaldra Bridge in order to worship the Big Cod from a slightly greater altitude.
    5pm: Return to the Tintaldra Hotel for grilled barramundi, a bottle of rosé, and further debate with the barman regarding the Big Cod.
    6pm: Assuming COVID restrictions aren’t in place and you can actually cross the river without a policeman cracking your skull for trying to enter New South Wales, sequester yourself away to the northern bank of the Murra to admire the Big Cod in the waning twilight.
    DAY 2
    Pretty much the same as Day 1.
    DAY 3
    5am: Wake up early for a dawn swim with the Big Cod.
    5:30am: Be washed away by the fast-flowing Murray Riveriver, leaving your loved ones with no closure as to what ever happened to you. As your head plunges beneath the sanguine waves one final time, look back at the glorious Big Murray Cod, now no more than a speck in the distance, and think, "It was all worth it."

  • The Big Eagle, Mt Alfred, Vic

    The Big Wedge-Tailed Eagle, Mount Alfred, Victoria

    Hey hey hey, good old Big Eagle Rock’s here to stay
    I’m just crazy ’bout his wings – so smooth
    Doin’ the Big Eagle Rock
    Oh oh oh, don’t drive past, he’s nicer than a crow
    I’m just crazy ’bout his wings – so smooth
    Doin’ the Big Eagle Rock

    Watch out, there’s a hat thief about! This enormous Wedge-Tailed Eagle soars through the skies of northern Victoria, on a tireless mission to pluck the bonnets off unsuspecting visitors.

    But even if you get away with your fedora or Akubra, he’s sure to steal something else – your heart.

    Hats off to the abs-birdly talon-ted Benjamin Gilbert and his team at Agency of Sculpture (the Big Acorns, Bogong Moth and Yabbie), this pleasant passerine was able to take up residence at the delightful Mount Alfred Gap Lookout in 2019.

    The site offers eagle-eye views of beautiful buttes and bubbling brooks, and the chance to watch real-life eagles plucking rabbits from the meadows, carrying them to great heights, and then dropping them to their doom.

    It’s not all been beer and skittles, though. In a disturbing reversal of fortune, the Eagle’s steel hat was stolen by a heartless thug in 2019. Hopefully when the police find this career criminal, he’s strung up and left for birds to peck out his eyes.

    This is certainly not the first Big Wedgie I’ve encountered, as I was often on the receiving end of a severe pants-pulling from my peers (and several of the more boisterous teachers) during my younger years.

    Yeah, but where are those bullies now? Alright, a few of them have gone on to raise families and have successful careers, and one served as the Federal Transport Minister for several years, but they’re not Australia’s leading historian on Big Things, are they?

  • The Big Bogong Moth, Tintaldra, Vic

    The Big Bogong Moth, Tintaldra, Victoria

    The tranquil hamlet of Corryong has been besieged by a plague of colossal creatures – and the locals couldn’t be happier! Since 2018 the verdant fields beside the mighty Murray River have welcomed friendly fish, a happy yabbie and an enormous eagle as focal points of the monumental Great River Road project.

    Fearing Corryong would lose its status as a world class travel destination, the local tourism board approached me – the inimitable Bigs Bardot – for assistance.

    “Well, you could drop a few billion on a new airport, an aquatic-themed fun park, a couple of resorts the size of European countries,” I told them as we peered out upon the prairies bathed in autumnal sunlight. “Or you could…”

    “… Build a Big?” one pencil pusher cautiously replied.

    “It’s going to take more than one Big if you want to lure international visitors away from Shepparton and Wodonga. Better make it five.”

    “But what shall we build?”

    “That’s up to you – maybe look into your chrysalis ball. Now, please place my sizable consultation fee in the rear pocket of my knickerbockers – I have a date with the Big Pheasant and he doesn’t like me to be tardy.”

    That time of the moth

    The first to invade the hearts and minds of Corryongians was the Big Bogong – and tourists have been drawn to her like moths to a flame! She’s taken up residence at Jim Newman’s Lookout, is made from rusted cast-iron and is large enough to provide shelter from the sun as one gaze in wonder over the lush valleys of northern Victoria.

    It’s the little things that make this Big Thing so beaut, such as the tiny, moth-shaped cut-outs in her wings, beckoning the solar radiation within, as dust motes pirouette pleasantly in the ambiance. One can only imagine the majesty of this visage on a clear, star-filled night, as moonbeams illuminate this ancient lepidopteran.

    This area was long used as a meeting place for indigenous tribes, who would gather to dance, eat and hunt down moths. Fortunately they were slightly smaller than this shed-sized specimen, or our aboriginal chums might not have survived for 50,000 years!

    The Big Bogong Moth is dedicated to these proud people, and it’s culturally appropriate for visitors to perform a respectful, understated war dance in honour of their history.

    This moth will make you froth

    Following their work on the Big Acorns, and at my insistence, Yackandandah-based artisans Agency of Sculpture were responsible for the Big Bogong Moth and the other structures in the area. Maybe they took inspiration for another of Canberra’s most beloved Big Things, the Big Bogong Moths.

    In a few short years the Big Moth has become a cater-pillars of the community. She’s certainly worth an insection, and truly presents a cocoon with a view!

  • The Big Rainbow Trout, Harrietville, Vic

    The Big Rainbow Trout, Harrietville, Victoria

    Yibbida yibbida, this is fishing expert and notorious philanderer Rex Bardot, on the hunt for the Big Rainbow Trout! And look, there she is, out front of Mountain Fresh Trout & Salmon Farm. Trust me, folks, it doesn’t get any better than this!

    If she looks familiar, that’s because the Big Rainbow Trout was the star attraction of the 2006 Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony in Melbourne (an event I was forcibly removed from after making inappropriate comments towards several female athletes and getting my lights punched out by the Belize women’s weightlifting squad).

    Representing Cyprus, the Big Rainbow Trout was one of 72 humongous fish that swam around the MCG, symbolising the countries of the Commonwealth. They swiftly splashed their way into the hearts of a generation, much as Matilda the Kangaroo had in 1982.

    I was kicked out of that ceremony for an act of depravity, too, but the less said about it the better. Yibbida yibbida!

    My good mate Ian Thorpe, who went on to win a dizzying seven gold medals at the event, later thanked the Big Rainbow Trout and her ilk for inspiring him to success. The various aquatic vertebrates have been scattered across the length and breadth of Victoria, so grab some lemon juice, a tub of tartar sauce and track ’em down. Yibbida yibbida!

    Rex Bardot’s Fishing Misadventures

    The Big Rainbow Trout was looking pretty bloody good when we caught up so, after offering a hearty ‘Yibbida yibbida’ and a tip of my cap, I leant in for a non-consensual smooch. What started as a peck soon became a wanton display of affection that even the French would be disgusted by.

    As things rapidly proceeded towards M-rated territory and I began to remove my fishing tunic, a farmhand with a broom trotted over and chased me from the property. My boundless enthusiasm for perversion could not, however, be abated, and I sequestered myself to Bright to explore the local Thai massage parlours.

    The good people of Harrietville banded together to run me out of town, and the hate-filled mob warned me in no uncertain terms that I was not to visit any of Australia’s many fshy Big Things ever again. Not the Big Clownfish, the Big Murray Cod or the ever-amorous Big Octopus.

    “Yibbida yibbida!” I cried. “What about the other Big Trout, in Adaminaby?”
    “Definitely not the other Big Trout, in Adaminaby!” they shouted, before poking me with their pitchforks.

    They’ll soon learn what countless innocent young ladies already have – that Rex Bardot doesn’t take no for an answer.

    Yibbida yibbida!

    Please note: This entry was written ‘in character’ as a spoof of troubled celebrity fisherman Rex Hunt. I did not – and never would – kiss one of our wondrous Big Things against his, her or their wishes. I have also never ventured inside a massage parlour, Thai or otherwise, as I’m not overly fond of human contact.

  • The Big Octopus, Lakes Entrance, Vic

    The Big Octopus, lakes Entrance, Victoria

    “The Big Octopus’s Garden”

    I’d like to be
    Right by the sea
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    Wearing suede

    He’d let me in
    To see his collection
    Of shells and coral and even
    A model railway

    I’d ask my friends
    To come and see
    The Griffith’s Sea Shell Museum
    With me

    I’d like to dance
    Through Lakes Entrance
    To the Big Octopus’s garden
    Without my pants

    His cuddles have charms
    Because he has eight arms
    After admiring him for hours
    There’ll be romance

    Kissing his bulbous head
    Dreaming of being wed
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    He really enchants

    We would sing
    And wave our limbs around
    Because we know
    That our love abounds

    I’d like to be
    A few hundred metres from the sea
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    My love won’t fade

    We would shout
    And wiggle our suckers about
    Our relationship has no lies
    Beneath the waves

    Oh what joy
    For this mollusc and boy
    Knowing we’re happy
    And we’re safe

    We would be so happy
    ‘pus and Biggie
    No one there to tell us
    That an oversized recreation of a cephalopod and a 38-year-old man can’t have a meaningful relationship

    I’d like to be
    Just over the Cunninghame Arm Foot Bridge from the sea
    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    With my boo

    In the Big Octopus’s garden
    With my boo
    Unfortunately the Big Octopus
    Just did a poo

  • The Big Clownfish, Lakes Entrance, Vic

    The Big Clownfish, Lakes Entrance, Victoria

    Ladies and jellyfish, barras and gilas, pilchards of all ages. Please welcome the mystical, magical, great Big Clownfish! Bright and beautiful, this silly sausage is trapezy to find outside Lakes Caravilla Caravan Park, and you’ll feel like a bozo if you pass him by.

    He’s certainly hard to fish – I mean miss – because the tropical delight is right beside the main road into town. You might find this hard to swallow, but it’s even possible to clamber inside his stunning smile

    Yes, he’s handsome, but don’t tell the Clownfish that, because he’ll think you’re just fishing for compliments!

    This happy chappy was the clowning achievement of one George Holding, and served as the fish de résistance of the 1976 Moomba parade in Melbourne. The Clownfish then spent the next decade or so swimming up and down the picturesque boulevards of Lakes Entrance – also home to the Big Octopus – as the star attraction of various festivals and celebr-oceans.

    The Big Clownfish found his forever home in 1987, when then-owner of Lakes Caravilla, Darlene Freeman, aqua-red him from the local Chamber of Commerce. She then fin-stalled the cute clown out the front of her business to bring joy to the community, which was a nice jester.

    This clown ain’t big enough for the both of us. Oh wait, yes he is!

    I’ve struggled with acute coulrophobia since an unsavoury encounter with a Ronald McDonald impersonator during my formative years, so was gill-ty of feeling apprehensive as I climbed betwixt his insatiable lips.

    It was no laughing matter, however, when I discovered this Clown not only looks funny, he smells funny too. Sadly it seemed some joker had urinated within the cavernous bowels of this scaly scamp.

    After taking another dozen or so photos – most of which were super cute – I burst from the Clownfish’s maw like Jonah from the Whale, and proceeded straight to the local constabulary to report this fish-graceful offence.

    Honestly, a lengthy prison sentence is too good for any cretin who would befoul a Big Thing’s luscious mouth. Let the scallywag sleep with the fishes, I say – and not in the good way!

    Ultimately, I had a big top day out. Now, orange ya glad I told you about the Big Clownfish?

  • Chickaletta, Myrtlebank, Vic

    Chickaletta, Myrtlebank, Victoria

    Do you feel clucky, punk? Well, do you? Then pullet all the stops to flock down to Myrtlebank Roaming Farms, where you can chick out Chickaletta, a feathered friend of egg-straordinary proportions!

    Chickaletta was ass-hen-bled from rusted bike parts and old farming equipment – similar to Murray the Cod and the Big Kookaburra – but she’s far more than a poultry pile of old junk. This bewitching bird is a brilliant beak-on of hope and inspiration that led to an era of unprecedented economic prosperity for the region.

    Let me take you back to 2017, when Achy Breaky Heart and Hypercolor t-shirts were all the rage. Myrtlebank Farm’s shop, The Chook House, was little more than a side hustle for owner Belinda Hoekstra. A few eggs here, a jar of gooseberry chutney there. But Belinda wasn’t about to throw in the fowl.

    To drumstick up some attention, Belinda had a BIG plan, which would soon come home to roost. One balmy day in late February, the team of artistes from Rusted Perfect strutted in to install Chickaletta, and she was immediately mobbed by an adoring public.

    Laughing all the way to the (Myrtle) bank

    Children and pensioners joined together in worship of their new avian overlord, who is well placed for a fun photo. She’s not cooped up and easy to find! Rumour has it that cock ’n’ roll group AC/DC even turned up to sing their hit song You Chook Me All Night Long.

    Chickaletta’s admirers also bought eggs – oh, did they buy eggs! Belinda was run off her feet and soon Myrtleford Roaming Farms was a full-time business, with Chickaletta the perpetual employee of the month. Omelette me tell you, the future’s never looked brighter.

    There are even rumours that Chickaletta has been seeing one of Australia’s biggest cocks, with Charlie the Chicken and the Big Chook the prime cluck-spects.

    The Chook House now boasts a scrumptious selection of pies, steaks, desserts and wholesome dinners for the whole family. The owners are a bunch of comedi-hens, and include plenty of peck-tacularly bad chicken puns in their weekly newsletters.

    I’ll leave you with a selection of their very nest puns, so that I can get back to courting Chickaletta. She told me battery will get me nowhere, but I’m not going to chicken out of my romantic pursuit!

    Q: Why couldn’t the chicken find her egg?
    A: Because she mislaid it!

    Q: What do you call a chicken that crosses the road, rolls in the dirt, crosses the road again, and then rolls in the dirt again?
    A: A dirty double-crossing chicken!

    Q: Did you know chickens can jump higher than a house?
    A: True. Houses can’t jump!

    Q: Why don’t chickens wear pants?
    A: Because their peckers are on their faces!

    Q: What do you get if you cross a chicken with a cement mixer?
    A: A brick layer!

  • The Big Cigar, Churchill, Vic

    The Big Cigar, Churchill, Victoria

    Come to Churchill, dear boy, see the Cigar
    You’re gonna ooh and ah, you’re gonna sigh
    You’re never gonna cry
    You can even touch it if you try
    The Cigar’s gonna love you

    Holy smokes, this stupendous stogie will light up your life! The 32-metre-tall Big Cigar was unveiled by the Victorian Housing Commission on December 21, 1967, as a symbol of hope for the fledgling community of Churchill. Five decades later, it’s still a won-durrie-ful tribute to the region’s favourite pastime

    Despite having a nice butt, the Big Cigar wasn’t designed to look like a cancer stick and was given the uninspired title of ‘The Spire’. The locals, most of whom toiled away at the Hazelwood Power Station, were divided on what it looked like. Some said a lava lamp, others said a fondue stick. It was the ’60s, after all.

    One sweltering day a personable drunk climbed out of the gutter and decided it looked more like one of Winston Churchill’s famous cigars. Passersby ignored his lunatic ramblings, but the inebriant persisted with his declaration of love for the peculiar pillar.

    “I shall fight on the beaches,” the miscreant wailed, resting upon his walking stick. “I shall fight on the landing grounds, I shall fight in the fields and in the streets, I shall fight in the hills; I shall never surrender my belief that this monument should be known as the Big Cigar.”

    The rest of the townsfolk shrugged and told him to go for it, and so here we are – the Big Cigar. I guess you Winston, you lose some

    Did I tell you I once came second in a Winston Churchill lookalike contest? Close, but no cigar!

    The Big Cigar is well-maintained and centrally located at the local shops, so a visit will probably come with a domestic dispute and some petty theft. Lights were added to the Cigar in 1999 and the dapper wall at the base was built in 1990, in honour of the area’s farmers.

    A giant ear of corn would’ve been more appropriate, but the nearby Big Spuds and Big Chicken should appease all agricultural ambitions.

    During my photo shoot, a stern-faced policeman stormed over. Waggling his finger, he snarled, “Oi mate, no smoking allowed!”

    “Sorry, officer,” I replied with a wink. “I’ll try to be quieter next time.”

    WARNING: Smoking causes lung cancer, blindness, and can harm your unborn baby. But I look super cute whilst puffing on a cigar, so I guess it all evens out!

  • The Big Spuds and Forks, Trafalgar, Vic

    The Big Spuds and Forks, Trafalgar, Victoria

    Howdy pardner, this is your old friend Biggie the Kid! Your regular host Bigs Bardot is struggling through a low-carb diet, so it’s up to me to tell you all about the Big Spuds and Forks. Just look at my tough-guy hat and genuine 18th-century baby blue short-shorts – yee-haw!

    Every man comes to a fork in the road at some point in his life, so gather round as I tell you a tale of love, loss, and Big Things.

    I was moseying on through the badlands of Trafalgar, on the trail of ol’ One-Eyed Willie, when I spotted something that dang near made my heart leap out of my chest. No, not a discounted Louis Vuitton clutch bag with a pearl clasp and space for a whole box of bullets – five gigantic taters, each just as round and beautiful as a junebug on a hot summer’s night.

    But what was that over yonder, ya’ll? Pokin’ out of them there taters? Dadgum! If it wasn’t five enormous forks, then my name ain’t Biggie Charlene Kid!

    My trusty steed and confidant Liberace didn’t need much convincin’ to gallop on over for a gander, and soon I was fraternising with the spuds in a robust yet respectful way. Sure I might be the fastest undresser in the west, but I’m also a gentleman, y’hear.

    What a Spudmuffin!

    These here taters live right outside the famous Spud Shed, where you’ll find more starchy tubers than you can shake a rattlesnake at. Oh, and the quince relish is truly a thing of beauty – just like my ol’ mama used to make.

    A passing injun told me the sculpture was erected in 2008 to celebrate the Year of the Tater, and was originally on display for them there city slickers in the Big Smoke – y’know, pardner, Melbourne. But maybe that injun had been indulging in some Big Smoke of his own.

    As he rode off into the sunset, the injun told me a fanciful tale about another prodigious potato. Basking in the sunshine of the far-flung settlement of Robertson, this one’s supposedly the size of a house and worshipped by the natives. Dang injun, I thought he’d start tellin’ me about massive Sprouts, Pheasants, Chickens and Dogs.

    As Liberace and I swaggered out of the badlands of Trafalgar, on the trail of ol’ One-Eyed Willie, I lit myself a cigar and stared out at the bleeding sunset. “There are two kinds of people in the world,” I sighed. “Those with guns and those that dig giant statues of taters with forks stuck in them. And I ain’t got me a gun.”

    Please note; in the interests of transparency, I should reveal that it was actually me – the inimitable Bigs Bardot – who wrote this entry, in character as a bit of fun. Teehee – fooled ya!

  • Pat the Dog, Yarragon, Vic

    Ladies and tramps, please put your claws together for a pup-standing citizen with a paws-itive attitude – Pat the Dog and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat!

    Perky Pat patrols the perimeter of picturesque Yarragon Railway Station, and is a welcome sight for those returning home after bark on a poochoo train. The two-metre-tall, 500-kilogram mutt was the passion project of the Baw Baw Arts Alliance, and hound his forever home in 2021.

    The fetching fellow is covered in the most magnificent mosaic motifs, so get ready to do as his name suggests and pat this dog – he doesn’t bite!

    Mosaic-y Breaky Heart

    The process of bringing Pat to life was led by Yarragon locals Jessie Mclennan and Janet ‘Wet’ Wyllie, who doggedly fought for funding. They originally wanted to build a water fountain dedicated to mosaic maestro Maery Gabriel, but decided to go for an enormous poodle instead.

    Fur what it’s worth, I reckon they made the right choice!

    Jessie lab-ricated a scale model of Pat, which was scanned into a high-tech computer. This was used to create styrofoam pieces that were glued together to form Pat’s perky paw-sture, then shaved into shape. He was then slathered in kerabond and isolastic, which are either fancy waterproofing elixirs or popular rappers.

    Eight or ca-nine artistes attached Pat’s thousands of coloured glass tiles, although I’ll never understand howl they did it! The end result was a very dog-nified Big Thing that was revealed to rapturous applause on August 6, 2021.

    I’d be remiss if I failed to mention the gorgeous plinth that Pat sits atop. It weighs half a tonne and features another salubrious mosaic pattern.

    If you’d like to show your appreciation, drop into the adjoining art gallery to make a small dalmatian to their cause.

    It’s a Dog’s Life

    Pat isn’t a square pug in a round hole, because there are several mosaic marvels around. Darwin’s Colin the Turtle and Big Barramundi are similarly decorated and sure to make you tile. He’s also not the only fur-baby to be hound, with the Big Golden Dog lighting up hearts in Glenreagh.

    Pat’s quickly become Yarragon’s most famous resident, meaning he attracts plenty of pup-arazzi. Or maybe they were just there for Bigs Bardot and his chum Gordon! Sure, my responsibly-sourced tunic was nothing compared to Pat’s outfit, but I had no reason to be melan-collie, because he’s absolutely paw-some!

  • Bruno the Big Pheasant, Tynong North, Vic

    Bruno the Big Pheasant, Tynong North, Victoria

    Forever stylin’ and profilin’, Bruno the Big Pheasant has been sauntering around rural Gippsland for decades. But this colourful character is more like a phoenix, having survived a terrorist attack and come out the other side looking better than ever.

    During a dark and stormy night October 2011, a deranged terrorist stormed into Bruno’s enclosure and, with hatred in his heart, approached the enormous bird. The thug dumped a homemade bomb at Brono’s feet and escaped into the darkness. Tick, tock, tick, tock. In the distance, a kookaburra cackled. Tick, tock, tick, tock.

    The midnight sky lit up like midday. Fickle fingers of flame reached in all directions. Then the sound and the shrapnel – like a thousand realities colliding – ripped through the landscape, plucking birds from their nests and sending children hurtling into their mothers’ arms.

    And then, silence.

    When the debris finally settled and the people of Tynong gathered as one in front of Bruno, they realised the world as they knew it was no more. The photogenic pheasant had sustained more than $50,000 worth of damage to his rear, and many wondered whether his tail would ever be the same again.

    Clear and Pheasant Danger

    Bruno can be found strutting his stuff outside the Gumbuya World fun park, which offers waterslides, animal exhibits, and other attractions that I was never able to enjoy as a youngster. The park was built on the site of an old pheasant farm so, when owner Ron Rado decided he needed something BIG to promote his investment, there was only one thing to do.

    He tapped local legend Bruno Crestani to craft the 16.8- metre-long, 7.6-metre-tall golden pheasant. The friendly fowl was made from five tonnes of concrete set over a steel frame, and was revealed to a curious public in December 1981.

    They were, of course, pheasantly surprised.

    Bizarrely, Big Bruno wasn’t named after his creator until 2021, when the park ran a hotly-contested competition to find a new moniker for the majestic merrymaker. Suggested names included Kuryana, Goldy and the imaginative Carlos Pheasantana.

    My suggestion, Donald Pheasants, was met with widespread praise but was ultimately discarded for being too controversial.

    He is happiest, be he king or pheasant, who finds peace in his home

    Bruno’s tale is as long and vivid as his tail. He’s recently been renovated as part of Gumbuya World’s revamp, and it’s easy to see him without shelling out for a (rather cheap) ticket into the park. It’s for the best, because my alien companion Gordon Shumway was banned for life after an unsavoury incident on the Tiger Snake Tango slide a few years ago.

    Big Brono’s nice and close to Arthur Sprout, Pat the Dog and the Big Spuds and Forks. At pheasant, however, he’s the biggest and brightest Big in the region. He’s also good chums with fellow well-dressed avians the Big Kookaburra and the Big Parrot.

    Bruno’s certainly peck-tacular, so don’t be a turkey and just fly by!

  • Ernie, Shepparton, Vic

    Please welcome the flag waving, money saving, always smiling, quite beguiling, 18-foot-high, super-nice guy… Ernie the Giant Tractor Salesman! This gregarious goliath has been Shepparton’s most eligible bachelor for more than three decades, and currently works at the family-owned Konigs Agricultural Supermarket.

    The eternally-eleemosynary Ernie started work way back in 1992, and is yet to miss a day! He’s polite, kind and never shies away from a photo, so it’s always the right time for a Weekend at Ernie’s.

    “People may not know the word Konigs, but if they want to know where we are they say look for the big man who flies the flag,” owner Leo Schoonderbeek recalled during his company’s 25th birthday extravaganza. “I think there are generations now in Shepparton that know Ernie from their younger days.”

    Ernie was the friendly face of Shepparton long before he moved in with Leo and the gang. He was originally constructed to sell quality cars, and was hauled around to school fetes and baby showers. He was, of course, always a gentleman and very well regarded within the community.

    “Ernie was a pro­mo­tional item for Ford New Hol­land for a num­ber of years. They called him for ten­ders and I bought him. The main rea­son was to add an at­trac­tion to our busi­ness.’’

    Come for the giant statue of a handsome man, stay for the extensive collection of reasonably-priced farm machinery!

    Ernie was packed and ready to move into his new digs. The Konigs team were preparing for an era of unprecedented success. But disaster was just around the corner, and Ernie almost never made it to his new home.

    Where’s your head at?

    “A truck arrives one day, a big semi-trailer with three boxes,” Leo recounted with a look of shock upon his face. “They were quite huge boxes, we opened the biggest and that was Ernie’s head. There were only two boxes left and I said, ‘Well something’s wrong here!’

    “We opened another box and it was one arm, and then there was hardly anything left so we opened the third box and it was his other arm. There was no torso for Ernie! I’m on the phone saying, ‘Fellas, there’s something wrong, I’ve only got two arms and a head’. The search was on to find Ernie.

    “Apparently what they had sent was Ernie’s spare parts. They went and searched for Ernie and found that one of the dealers hadn’t returned him so they had to box the complete Ernie up and send him across.”

    Finally, Ernie was installed on a sunny Saturday afternoon with the help of a crane. Most Sheppartonians were on hand to welcome their newest – and by far largest! – resident. It wasn’t to be Ernie’s forever home, however, with Konigs relocating in 1995 to the current premises. The big boy’s certainly moved around a lot for a fella with no legs!

    Ernie to the Centre of the Earth

    Ernie is one of the most imposing Big Things in Australia, dwarfing other humongous humans such as the Coota Giant and the Big Girl. He’s been lovingly maintained and looks every bit as dashing as the day he swaggered into Shepparton. 

    Ernie’s so charming, in fact, that he made it seem like a good idea to buy a Deutz Agrotron 265 tractor with a turbo charged engine, four-speed powershift transmission and a set of four electronic remote valves. I live in a third-floor condominium in Newtown, so I’m not sure what I’ll do with it. Ah well, maybe I can use it to trim the shag-pile carpet.

    Oh, and how much does Ernie weigh? About six Sheppar-tonnes!

  • Arthur Sprout, Coldstream, Vic

    Arthur the Big Brussels Sprout, Coldstream, Victoria

    Brussels sprouts; two words that strike fear into the hearts of children. The bitter, chartreuse vegetables have been responsible for countless dinnertime meltdowns and turned generations of youngsters off their greens for life. But one gentleman has risen up against the hatred, with a cheeky smile and a zealous thumbs-up as his only weapons.

    Arthur Sprout, who stands sentinel in front of Adams Farms, has dedicated his young life to giving the despised veggie a friendlier face. The Yarra Valley’s most unlikely sex symbol has been turning heads and smashing prejudices since 2015 – and he’s slowly winning the war against anti-sproutism.

    Arthur’s sanguine posture speaks volumes, yet this sprout-going chap is a man of few words. Thankfully fellow Brussels sprout activist Bruce Adams – the owner of Adams Farms and the man who brought Arthur to life – is more than happy to tell this sproutlandish story.

    Twist and Sprout!

    The seeds of Arthur’s journey were planted a few hours north of his current location. During his regular pilgrimage to the Big Strawberry at Koonoomoo, Bruce was struck by an idea so marvellous he needed to have a good lie down afterwards.

    “I thought, ‘Oh, maybe we should have a Big Sprout,’” Bruce told a dumbfounded journo from The Monthly. Most of us have had the same idea, but Bruce actually made it happen. Sadly, it wasn’t all smooth sailing, with anti-sproutites doing whatever they could to get in the way.

    “There were a lot of issues with the council,” Bruce explained. “Not in relation to his height, but with where I could put it. I wanted it at the front of the property but they wouldn’t let me put it there. They wanted it back further. They wanted it way back ‘cos they basically said to me in the end, ‘You can have it but we really don’t want people to see it.’”

    Arthur – named after Bruce’s father – was unveiled during the 2015 Sprout Fest, which is like Woodstock for fruit and veg fanatics. Featured artists included Ba Na Na, Carlos Sultana and Canned Beet.

    As a result Arthur stands a good way back from the main road, giving him an unassuming charm and heart-warming shyness that needs to be seen to be believed. With his farmer’s hat and rustic overalls, he’s one of the best-dressed Bigs in Australia.

    Most importantly, ‘the Muscles of Brussels’ is winning over the locals, one sprout at a time.

    Out and About with Arthur Sprout

    My date with Arthur was a bittersweet experience, as it brought back memories of tear-stained dinner parties with my abusive stepfather Craig. As he and the rest of the family tucked into delicious fried chicken, Craig would load my plate high with uncooked Brussels sprouts and not allow me to leave the table until every single morsel had been consumed.

    Often I would pass out from sheer exhaustion, unable to bring myself to gorge on my waterlogged tormentors. I would wake in the dead of night, the house silent and the unwanted spouts edging ever closer. Their tiny leaves seemed to mock me.

    In retrospect it was probably Craig’s way of forcing me to run away from home, which I finally did at the tender age of 24. I’ve never been able to look at a Brussels sprout since.

    And so it was with deep reservations that I rolled into rural Coldstream, unsure whether I was ready to face my fears. Would I break down in tears upon seeing the giant sprout, as memories of my abusive stepfather washed over me? Would I become enraged at the thought of a youth shattered by this bulbous vegetable?

    After seeing Arthur’s cheerful face and roguish gesturing, my troubled soul was put at ease.

    It was as if decades of fear and loathing were lifted from my shoulders, and I felt nothing but love and admiration for him and his kind. I was reduced to a blubbering mess and, after a cuddle, even purchased a small tray of well-priced and beautifully-presented sprouts.

    Without the shadow of my stepfather brooding over me, I found the spouts to be surprisingly nutty and very moreish, especially with a generous dollop of mango chutney.

    Craig, it seems, was just a crap cook.

    That’s Sproutstanding!

    After saying my goodbyes to Arthur, I kissed his rubenesque thorax one last time and turned to leave. Just then, a hotted-up Kia Rio rolled up to the farm and paused beneath the shade of a poplar tree. As the engine continued to cough and wheeze, one window slowly rolled down, and two acne-riddled faces, punctuated by the deadest eyes I’ve ever seen, pushed their way into the dying sunlight.

    “Go back to where you came from, Sprouty!” screamed one of the hate-filled youngsters.
    “Yeah, go back to Belgium, where Brussels sprouts have been cultivated since the 13th century!” warbled his mate.

    “Actually,” I shrieked, hurling sprouts at their hotrod, “there’s scientific evidence that the Ancient Romans propagated a similar vegetable 2000 years earlier.”

    “Go back to Ancient Romania then, Sprouty!” yelled the hatemongers, their malicious diatribe hanging heavy in the air long after they had peeled out of the carpark.

    The impregnable Arthur Sprout, as always, simply fired back with that machine gun smile of his.

  • Rutherglen Wine Bottle, Rutherglen, VIC

    The Rutherglen Wine Bottle, Rutherglen, Victoria

    Should you visit Rutherglen’s Big Wine Bottle? Wine not! This 36-metre-tall flagon is a real corker, so it stands to riesling that you should make a chardo-day of it and head to Victoria’s premier wine-growing region.

    The Big Bottle looms large over Rutherglen, and can be seen from most of the town’s leafy streets and verdant parks. It casts an imposing figure, with its mixture of brutalist red brick architecture and quirky, weathered top. It’s unique and odd, certainly, but also feels like an organic part of this beautiful village.

    The fascinating tale of this vast vial dates back to the early 1900s. Starting life as a water tower for the growing township, the structure could be seen for miles around and quickly became a symbol of pride in Rutherglen. It was taken out of service in the swingin’ ’60s – but you decant keep a good Big Thing down!

    Late one boozy night during the 1967 Rutherglen Wine Festival, some bright spark suggested converting the water tower into an enormous jar of plonk. The town’s drunkards agreed it was a fantastic idea, and began scribbling ideas for it on the back of coasters.

    It was a big cask, but the locals rosé to the occasion. Hundreds of Rutherglenwegians constructed the sturdy mesh top of the bottle, then came to grapes with the difficult installation. Ah well, no champagne, no gain!

    Goon enough, the region’s newest tourist attraction was ready to go. The Bottle was lovingly restored in 2014 – perhaps in reaction to the Pokolbin Bottle’s growing celebrity – and has certainly aged like a fine wine. I know I can be less than enthusiastic about Big Things that started out as unremarkable buildings, such as the Big Miner’s Lamp, but the unabashed enthusiasm the people of Rutherglen show for the Bottle make it a real glass act!

    Big, big wine, stay close to me
    Don’t let me be alone
    It’s tearing apart my blue heart

    I was hoping for vine weather during my date with the Big Bottle, but it ended up being wetter than dipsomniac’s lunch. That wasn’t going to stop me, so I procured an ornate vessel of alcohol-free De Bortoli Melba Amphora Cabernet Sauvignon for a picnic beneath the colossal carafe.

    As the Cab Sav’s dreamlike, serotinal aromas washed over me like a comforting, yet scintillating couverture, and my mouth was filled with sophisticated, nostalgic, compassionate, epicurean flavours (oh, is that a hint of nutmeg?), I was sequestered away upon the cloying breeze to a simpler and more delicate time.

    The voluptuous mixture of perfectly-manicured wine and an astonishingly proportioned Big Thing proved utterly intoxicating. Swaying giddily from my encounter, I found myself in no state to drive, and was forced to sleep in my car like a common drunk. 

    I awoke several times during that cold, windswept evening, my skin glistening with sweat and my eyes frantically searching for the Bottle. My attempts to resist it were futile, and I would rise, trembling, and stagger on withered legs through the gloom towards my fate.

    As I embraced the Bottle, tears running down my cheeks before being washed into the gutter by the beating deluge, I told myself that I could stop cuddling him any time I wished. Deep down, within my shuddering heart, I knew it to be a falsehood. The seams of life’s rich tapestry were becoming frayed, and I was utterly addicted. 

    My name is Bigs Bardot and I’m a Big Bottle-oholic… and loving every minute of it!

  • The Big Miners Spade, Chiltern, VIC

    The Big Miner's Spade, Chiltern, Victoria

    If you dig shovels, the charming village of Chiltern has them in spades! The only question is, can you handle the excitement? Read on, because your pal Bigs Bardot has the scoop!

    The Big Miners Spade stands regally beside the southern entry to Chiltern and, at five metres tall, simply can’t be missed. Serving as a tribute to the region’s proud gold mining history, the towering tool also features a couple of regent honeyeaters on top. Maybe they need to eat some more honey, because they’re looking a bit skinny!

    There’s an enviable selection of regular-sized shovels located at the base of the statue that unprepared visitors can burrow for a memorable happy snap.

    This was a miner annoyance to me, as I’d spent several hundred dollars at a nearby Bunnings emporium procuring a selection of digging implements for this photo shoot. Oh well, I guess they’re going on Gumtree.

    Let’s call a spade a spade – and this is a spade

    The Big Miners Spade is the work of local sculptor Xavier Pinard. In 2018 he won a hotly-contested competition by the local council to find a new symbol for the town.

    In my role as Chairman of Indigo Shire Council’s Big Thing Advisory Board – a role that doesn’t pay as well as you might think – I gently prodded them towards the Big Miners Spade. The other entries – a small brick wall and a one-metre-tall steel sculpture modelled on a child’s stick figure drawing of little artistic merit – were neither inspired nor Big Things.

    My decision has certainly been vindicated, with Chiltern becoming a hot tourist destination since the Spade’s much-anticipated arrival. These days the town rivals nearby Rutherglen, home of the monstrous Big Wine Bottle, for popularity. Best visit the Spade first, though, as it’s not recommended to operate heavy equipment after a day of drinking!

    The Big Miners Spade is just one of several bits and bobs that have been lost by the ever-forgetful Big Gold Panner. There’s also the Big Miner’s Lamp in Lithgow and the Big Gold Pick and Pan in Grenfell. Honestly, he’d forget his head if it wasn’t so sturdily attached!

    Some people say digging all day is boring, but I think it’s a hole lotta fun!

  • The Big Strawberry, Koonoomoo, VIC

    The Big Strawberry, Koonoomoo, Victoria

    Let me take you down
    ‘Cause I’m going to Big Strawberry Fields
    The size is real
    And something to be amazed about
    Big Strawberry Fields forever

    Bright red and bursting with life, the Big Strawberry looks delicious enough to gobble up with a dollop of cream. But this blushing beauty is actually an unstoppable tough guy, having defeated a crazed cyclone in 2013.

    The turbulent tempest tore through Koonoomoo with unabashed enthusiasm, destroying four homes and shattering 12 others. A camper van was tossed 40 metres onto its roof, and the village was left looking like a cantankerous toddler’s bedroom. But the brawny Strawberry, long a source of inspiration for the townsfolk, stood tall against the wild winds.

    When survivors emerged, cowering, from the rubble, they saw their beloved Strawberry standing proudly in the gathering sunlight. Everything will be alright, he seemed to say, and the rebuilding process began. Since that day, not a single deranged downpour has dared darken the doorways of Koonoomoo.

    The cardinal cutie is one of the most straw-some Bigs the world has ever known. He’s shiny, delightfully textured, and very accessible. Fans can get up close and personal for a memorable and life-affirming photograph with the striking strawberry, and there’s even a deliciously retro sign with a hole to pop your happy little face through for the perfect holiday snap.

    Something new for Koonamoo

    The juicy giant started life in 2004, when Michael and Lorraine Hayes (along with their son Darren, the current owner) witnessed the popularity of the nearby Big Murray Cod and Big Cherry and decided to get in on the oversized action.

    It was a community effort to raise the six-metre-tall, five-metre-wide icon, with Cobram Plumbing bringing the steel frame and local workers preparing the mesh. The oar-some blokes from Competition Kayaks put up the fiberglass, before Barry Dickson from Barry Dickson Paint and Panel went to town with his brushes.

    Oh, and the scrumptious colour? Monza red, because Darren loves his Ford cars. I guess Fords are red, but I wouldn’t have a clue, I ride a scooter. I’ll paint my Big bright pink if Mum ever overcomes her aversion to having a ten-metre-tall concrete hamster in the front yard.

    The adjacent store boasts Big Strawberry t-shirts, magnets and socks, along with a wide selection of chutneys and relishes. Slather some melon and pineapple marmalade on a chunk of home-baked damper and thank me afterwards.

    Koonoomoo’s Big Strawberry really is one in vermilion. Even the Luddenham version doesn’t come close. I’d love to spend all day writing love ballads about this ruby rascal but honestly, I’m clutching at strawberries here.

  • The Big Cherry, Wyuna, Vic

    The Big Cherry, Wyuna, Victoria

    Sunglasses, cheeky grin, rockstar swagger. No, I’m not talking about myself, I’m describing the coolest cat in the Goulburn Valley, the legendary Big Cherry! The bright-red dude with ’tude has been breaking hearts for the past two decades, so I decided the time to meet this cherry was ripe!

    As I researched the Cherry in my la-big-atory, I discovered that rumours of his current whereabouts abounded. Some said he’d moved to Byron Bay to become an influencer, others that he’d fled to South America to live with a giant tamarillo. I tracked him down to the Big Cherry Farm in splendid Wyuna, where he’s always been. Rumours of his travels have, apparently, been greatly exaggerated.

    Tragically, upon arrival I discovered that the farm has been closed for several years due to water shortages, with the sunnies-sporting-sweetheart locked 100 metres down a driveway, behind a gate. I called out to whoever might be inhabiting the farm to let me in, but there was no response. Upon dialling the number on the sign out the front, I discovered it was disconnected. I yodelled towards the Big Cherry himself, in the desperate hope that he might roll towards me to say hello, but it wasn’t to be. He just sat there, back turned, smiling into the twilight.

    Left cold and alone in rural Victoria, I took a forlorn photo with the sign out the front of the farm. To put it in perspective, it was like missing out on an Eagle-Eye Cherry concert due to a drunken stepfather and consoling yourself by listening to his acclaimed 1997 single Save Tonight on a Sony Discman.

    A Cherry Nice Fellow Indeed

    I was shattered that I was unable to meet the cherry, and disgusted with myself for letting you, his fans and admirers, down. My sincerest apologies, although I hope my encounter with the Big Fruit Bowl goes some way towards for it – I think there’s a cherry or two in there.

    With tears in my eyes I raced across the border to spend time with the more wholesome cherries in Young as a consolation prize, but it just wasn’t the same. They don’t have the glasses, the style, or the devil-may-care demeanour that harkens back to a young Val Kilmer. Young’s Big Cherries might steal your heart, but they would never steal your girlfriend.

    I won’t, however, give up on my dream to meet the Big Cherry – just look at those Reebok Pumps, he’s a regular Cherry-quille O’Neal! If you own the farm, know the owners, or have any other info or tips to help me in my quest to spend an afternoon with a really big piece of fruit, please contact me immediately. I’ll jump on my scooter and ride all night to have a lunch date with this spherical spunk if I have to. Trust me, if I get to meet Captain Cool, I’ll be cherry appreciative!

  • World’s Biggest Rolling Pin, Wodonga, VIC

    The World's Biggest Rolling Pin, Wodonga, Victoria

    Roll up, roll up, because I want to introduce you to the largest, most-in-charge-est rolling pin you’ll ever see. She’s 14-metres-long, weighs more than two tonnes, and looms large over the famous Henri’s Wodonga Bakery. You definitely knead to see the World’s Biggest Rolling Pin!

    The larger-than-loaf pin was installed in 1992, in what has been described as Wodonga’s finest flour. The good people at Guinness World Records rushed to pop this Victorian icon atop hotly-contested Biggest Rolling Pin category. Apparently it can roll, but was completely stationary when I turned up to admire it, but I guess you can’t spin ’em all.

    Although it lacks the wow-factor of other giant utensils such as Grenfell’s Big Gold Pick and Pan or Kew’s Big Axe – and isn’t as huggable as the nearby Digby the Dinosaur – it’s the sort of Big that really gets under your scone after a while and proves to be a to-pie-for experience.

    The sprawling bakery beneath the cylindrical superstar offers a mouthwatering array of sausage rolls, cakes, burgers, juices and sourdough bread. The perky pinheads percolating within are particularly pleasant, al-dough I do have one complaint – no Rolling Pin souvenirs! I would’ve loved a miniature version of the World’s Largest Rolling Pin. Alas, I will never be able to find such a thing.

    All-in-all, it’s worth baking the effort to visit the World’s Biggest Rolling Pin!

  • The Big Ned Kelly, Glenrowan, VIC

    The Big Ned Kelly, Glenrowan, Victorua

    He might be modeled after the most brutal, bloodthirsty bushranger in Aussie history, but the only thing the Big Ned Kelly is going to steal is your heart! The six-metre-tall buckethead prefers taking photos to taking hostages, but is still very much on the most wanted list of anyone travelling through rural Victoria!

    The original, smaller, nastier Ned became a national hero during the 1800s, as he pranced around robbing stagecoaches and slaughtering policemen with a glorified garbage bin on his head. He was finally shot and arrested in the remote village of Glenrowan in mid-1880, and hanged later that year, but his legend has continued to grow. It certainly is odd to have a Big designed after a hate-filled murderer – I can’t see Ivan Milat getting one any time soon – but the big guy is very welcoming of visitors.

    Bucketloads of Big Bushrangers

    Glenrowan has become a Mecca for Ned-Heads, so it’s no surprise there’s actually been three Big Bushrangers banged up over the years. The first, constructed in 1980, was stolen by a group of street toughs and dumped in a nearby river – a sad, if somewhat appropriate end. The second lives inside the Glenrowan Tourist Centre and can only be seen for a fee. Ah, Ned, pinching money from the public once again!

    The current version took over the town in 1992, and was built by Sydney special effects guru Kevin Thomas. He weighs a zaftig 1.5 tonnes, cost $12,000, and it would be a crime not to visit him. Being so large means it must be difficult for Ned to find shoes that fit comfortably – so perhaps he could visit The Big Shoe, which is just down the road at Frankston?

    He’s not the only king-sized Kelly around, though, because he has an almost identical twin brother up in Maryborough, Queensland. Ol’ Ned never went within a few thousand kilometres of the Banana State, so this version wins the award for authenticity. As an added bonus, you can have your photo taken with this Ned and then brag to your chums that you went to Maryborough – how wonderful!

    Glenrowan is home to a number of shops selling Ned Kelly memorabilia, and the prices are reasonable so it’s not highway robbery. There’s an educational trail that rambles around the town’s historical sites, and you’ll have the crime of your life gaining insight into Ned’s last stand. The Glenrowan Hotel, which is right next door to where Ned was taken down, is a pleasant pub where the only shots to be found these days are served by the barman.

    Ned’s last stand

    Descendants of Kelly’s victims have campaigned for years to tear down the statue – and his twin in Maryborough – as they stir up terrible memories of family members being gunned down in cold blood. I say grow up! A pelican stole my donut back in 1987 and I stepped in some dog poo-poo last week, but you don’t see me trying to cancel their respective statues.

    They say you should never judge a book by its cover; well, you should never judge a Big Thing by the fact he’s wearing a terrifying metal suit and carrying a shotgun. Ned’s one of the largest men I’ve ever been with, and a bad boy with a heart of gold. Nobody should have to twist your armour to go see him!