Tag: Australia

  • 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 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.

  • Blue Perspective, Southport, QLD

    Blue Perspective, Southport, Queensland, Australia

    Let’s go surfin’ now, everybody’s learnin’ how, come see Blue Perspective with Biggsy (and Bigella, Gordon and Gordina!).

    Surf’s up, dude, so wax up your board and don’t forget the shark spray, because this perspective will blue you away! With skin and hair as azure as the Pacific, this three-metre tall surf rat is hard to miss. She stands alone in Southport’s Broadwater Parklands, gazing earnestly towards the ocean. If you’re paddling past, give ‘Bluey’ a wave!

    Chic and stylish, yet bright and bubbly, Bluey superbly encapsulates the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the modern-day Gold Coast. A positive vibe and clean, healthy attitude make her the perfect role model for kiddies, which is a good thing because there’s a totally tubular playground just metres from her robust thighs.

    Blue Perspective was shaped by the legendary John Cox (yes, he responsible for the nearby Maddie and Mike) for the 2013 SWELL Sculpture Festival at Currumbin Beach. Bluey made such a splash that she remained there for several years after the festivities wiped out. Considering how sunny Queensland is, I hope she had plenty of zinc on her nose!

    Bluey was then purchased by the Big Thing-loving Gold Coast Council, who paddled her north to her current location. I don’t know the date she was installed, but assume it was on a Big Wednesday. The lovingly-presented park, with this immaculate Big, should be enough to tide you through many an Endless Summer.

    Cowabunga, dude!

    She’s blue (da ba dee da ba di)

    Longing for the authentic Surfers Paradise tourist experience during our visit, Bigella and I signed up for surf lessons. Not wanting to spend a morning surrounded by wine-drunk backpackers from Yorkshire, we instead decided to sit beneath the learning tree of the wise and eternal Blue Perspective.

    Of course, I would’ve approached my good chum Mick Fanning, but the surfing legend has some pretty ripe views about The Big Wheelie Bin. You might’ve punched a shark, Mick, but you also punched a hole in our friendship!

    With Gordina and Gordon (complete with super-cute flotation ring!) in tow, we were delighted to discover that Bluey is as charismatic as she is iconic. Her ample bosom and lithe, feminine curves aren’t usually to my taste, yet aroused a corporeal longing deep within my soul that had me yearning to hang ten compliments upon her generous hips.

    “Blue Perspective, the transcendent and career-defining opus of John Cox, shreds with a cobalt angst that belies her carefree visage,” opined Bigella, who had obviously been working her way through the thesaurus I’d bought her for Christmas.

    “I’m just jealous of her bikini line,” added Gordina.

    Our surf lesson went splendidly, until Gordon pretended to drown in a desperate attempt to lure one of Queensland’s bosomy, bikini-clad lifesavers in to rescue him. Oh, how we laughed when he was instead dragged to shore by Waldemar, a six-foot-four Lithuanian bodybuilder with a toothy grin and a pair of Speedos two sizes too small.

    I hope they’ll be very happy together.

  • 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 Beaver, Wilberforce, NSW

    The Big Beaver, Wilberforce, New South Wales

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Leave it to Beaver

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

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

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

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

    Busy as a Beaver

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

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

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

    And then a miracle happened.

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

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

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

    Oh, Rae!

  • 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 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 Cherries, Pages Flat, SA

    The Big Cherries, pages Flat, South Australia

    For a cherryfic experience that’ll really cherry you up, head out to Pages Flat to see the cherrybly handsome Big Cherries. Plump, sweet and oh-so-juicy, these are two of the most cherrysmatic Bigs you’ll ever meet – and I’m not just being cherrytable when I say that.

    The Big Cherries sit atop a rustic wagon in front of Fleurieu Cherries, which is just 45 minutes from the centre of Adelaide (although it might take a bit longer if you travel by horse and cherryot). You should cherrysh the opportunity to fully explore this very incherryesting facility.

    There’s a shop, reception area, and the encherryanting opportunity to pluck your own farm-fresh fruit. Concherry to popular belief, it’s not a cherrybly expensive activity; at $17 a kilo it’s perfect for those with budgetcherry concerns

    Don’t cherry your head in the sand, because you might not get a second bite of the cherry!

    Although, if this has piqued your cherryosity, you might want to visit other Big Cherries. There’s a lovely bunch in Young, and the legendcherry sunglasses-wearing Cherry in Wyuna. With so many options, you might have to cherry-pick which ones you want to see – although I’m a cherryleader for all of them!

    You got the way to move me, Cherries
    You got the way to groove me

    Sadly, whilst The Big Cherries remained on their wagon during our visit, Gordon well and truly fell off his. After an extraordicherry afternoon spent exploring the sprawling meadows of the Fleurieu Peninsula, the little alien stumbled upon a wedding between two lovely chaps, Brett and Nyoman, where he overindulged on a bottle of the seasonally-available cherry Moscato.

    Gordon’s drunken shenanigans did little to endear him to the congregation, which included pop singer Eagle-Eye Cherry, screenwriter Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and rugby league heartthrob Daly Cherry-Evans.

    The surviving members of Warrant were so appalled that they were barely able to make it through a rousing rendition of their seminal 1989 hit Cherry Pie.

    After a momencherry lapse of reason in which he passed inappropriate commencherry about the grooms’ wardrobe choices and started a fight with a flower girl, Gordon was, mercifully, escorted from the premises by a couple of burly farmhands.

    He was cherry embarrassed by his behaviour the next day!

  • Signalling Change, Mount Gambier, SA

    Signalling Change, Mount Gambier, South Australia

    Howdy pardner, spare a dollar for a po’ ol’ down-on-his-luck cowboy? This is all what’s left of your ruggedly masculine buckaroo, Biggie the Kid. Strap yo’sef in, this tale’s just as sad as the day is long. Some time back I lassoed myself a steam engine and rode the rails on into Mount Gambier, lookin’ for cheap moonshine an’ cheaper womenfolk.

    Oh, an’ Big Things – ain’t nothin’ that warms the cockles of this ol’ gunslinger’s heart quite like an anatomically-correct representation of two praying mantids. Yee-haw!

    By the time I’d kissed all the moonshine and drunk all the womenfolk, the dadgum train line had been tore up. I was stranded in Mount Gambier with no way of getting home! Sure, there’s Uber, but with my 3.4-star rating and penchant for spitting tobacco all over the back seat, there was little chance of getting a ride.

    Setting up camp in the town’s fancy-pants new Railway Lands park, broke an’ tired an’ down to my last pint of root beer, I prayed to the skies for a miracle. The Lord must’ve took pity on me, ‘cos paint me pink an’ call me a buffalo if I didn’t spot the largest set of railway signals in the whole wide world!

    Of course I’m more comfortable punchin’ cows and swaggerin’ around in crotchless chaps than I am driving trains, so I have no idea how much bigger they was than a regular set of train signals. But shoot, they looked mighty fine to me!

    Known as Signalling Change to the townsfolk, this remarkable piece was created by local artists Trevor Wren and Danica Gacesa McLean, who installed it on the grounds of the old train station. That day certainly signalled change for good ol’ Biggie the Kid…. in the worst darn-tootin’ way possible!

    The Signals They Are A-Changin’

    Exploring the substantial signals, with their playfully-painted portions and delightful-yet-functional seating options, the words of the artists’ flowed through this cowpoke’s brain like magic. Alright, maybe I was just ‘membering somethin’ I read online, but all that matters is that I’m going to share those quotes with y’all.

    “This piece celebrates Mount Gambier’s rich railway history by referencing railway signals, crossing barriers and indicator lights,” the dynamic duo explained shortly before the unveiling in 2016. “Its larger-than-life scale invites visitors, the local community and especially children to explore and investigate railway visual communication through shape, colour and light.”

    That’s exactly what I was going to say, pardners!

    “Signalling Change will make a prominent statement both night and day, and be highly visible from a distance through its physical height and bold colour,” the artists continued. “The piece is child-friendly and offers tunnel-like apertures through which children can safely crawl and play.”

    The only person who wasn’t provided with a safe space, however, was this handsome cowboy.

    Biggie the Kid vs Literal Kids

    I was posing for some super-cute – yet still really macho – photos, when a long, scary shadow fell upon me. Looking up, I spotted a posse of the meanest-lookin’ cattle rustlers I ever did see. There musta been half-a-dozen of ’em, each seven-foot-tall with rippling muscles and full beards.

    Alright, alright, so maybe they was pre-teens on scooters, but they still looked really tough. The children started by hurling abuse about my effeminate sunglasses and ostentatious short-shorts, and progressed to hurling tin cans and dog poo-poo at me.

    One particularly cruel street urchin, egged on by his chums, took my ornate wild western-inspired headdress and, in an act of insanity, trampled it.

    It’s a sad world when a grown man can’t swagger flamboyantly through a children’s park in a pair of Daisy Dukes, thrusting rhythmically for the camera whilst twirling around a set of giant railway signals, without being the subject of hatespeech from a bunch of ruffians. Bigs not bigotry, as I like to say.

    The bullies, who were joined by a smattering of parents and pensioners who really should’ve known better, only allowed me to leave after I hopped on one foot whilst singing I’m a Little Teapot through a waterfall of tears.

    It was not my finest hour.

    If only those no-goodniks put their energy into researching and admiring Big Things rather than petty street crime, the world would be a better place. Yee-haw!

  • The Big Olive, Tailem Bend, SA

    The Big Olive, Tailem Bend, South Australia

    Death threats, fraud and deplorable hygiene standards – The Big Olive is at the centre of the most bizarre and shocking scandal in Australian history, and has become the most controversial roadside attraction on the planet.

    Built on love and good intentions, the decadently-crafted Big Olive has been dragged through the tabloid media, casting a dark shadow across the rugged South Australian landscape.

    The delicious duo stand silent, locked behind a barbed-wire fence, as beautiful as they are shameful. What should serve as a beautiful, bulbous celebration of Tailem Bend’s blossoming olive industry, instead divides and humiliates the locals.

    Pour some wine, bring out the cheese board, and strap yourself in as we explore the dramatic rise and tragic fall of The Big Olive.

    Lie-renzo’s Oil

    It all started so innocently. The Big Olive (which technically should be called The Big Olives, but that’s a debate for another day) was crafted by the oliving legends at The Newell Group, and erected on April 15, 2005. The two olives – one a welcoming green, the other a mysterious, suave graphite – sent shockwaves through the Big Thing community with their eight-metre height and weight of more than a tonne.

    They were conceived to draw attention to a world-class olive oil processing plant that promised to transform the region. There was a sense of hope in the crisp, country air as hundreds of well-wishers descended upon Tailem Bend for the Olives’ unveiling.

    With a bouncy castle and plates of stuffed olives with little skewers poked through them, it was a day nobody would ever forget. Rumours abounded that Jamie Olive-er would be present to whip up a selection of mouthwatering antipasti.

    Life was good. Little did the locals know, however, that a nightmare were just around the corner.

    For not everything was as delicious as it seemed at the Big Olive factory. Shady business deals, grotesque working conditions and substandard products were the oil on which the company ran. And then, in early-2012, the little town of Tailem Bend found its way onto every television in the nation.

    Oils ain’t oils

    Hard-boiled Today Tonight reporter Frank Pangallo broke the outrageous story about what was really going on at The Big Olive, and the country gasped as one. The oil being produced there was, upon testing, not olive oil all. It was of such poor quality as to be unfit for human consumption and should only have been used as lamp fuel.

    Expired bottles of oil were illegally relabelled, meaning they’d hit the shelves three or four years after their use-by-date. Employees who questioned these practices were berated, belittled, and bullied.

    The depths of the depravity were alarming. It was common for production workers, possibly crazed from hunger due to long work hours, to slurp oil straight from a bottle, pop the cap back on and then send it off to the customer. As a result, thousands of Australians may have unwittingly drizzled saliva upon their bruschetta.

    Pangallo, a fearless scribe who has built a career on standing up for the little guy, was the target of brutal death threats. But he wouldn’t back down. He couldn’t back down. The story caused widespread outrage and ushered in a new era of stringent regulation in the notoriously crime-riddled olive oil industry.

    For a company that marketed their products as ‘Australia’s health gift to the world’, the fallout was terminal. The Big Olive Company was fined an incredible $13,000 and the factory, which had promised so much, was shuttered forever. This corruption, this misery, happened under the happy visage of The Big Olive.

    It all seemed like such a waste.

    Olive and let die

    A visit to The Big Olive is a conflicting and, at times, harrowing experience. The monument is well maintained, easy to find, and every bit as mesmerising as the day it was first shown to an awestruck population.

    The olives are massive, delightfully shiny, and incredibly lifelike. I particularly enjoyed the addition of a rustic, undulated stem, which perfectly frames the olives against the dusty backdrop whilst emphasising their immense size.

    Their Rococo-inspired lines and simple, almost austere carapace make them perfect for a fun photo. Like any plump, fresh olive, they compliment, rather than overwhelm, the experience.

    But the fact that they’re locked behind a fence, amidst an incomplete and windswept industrial complex, tosses these olives into a mediterranean salad of misery. Knowing what went on in that factory, the betrayal and the abuse, makes it difficult to truly enjoy The Big Olive in all its majesty.

    The factory tours are long gone, as are the oil tastings and cooking classes that once made it a highlight of any trip through South Australia. Sure, it’s possible to lean against the fence, guzzling olive oil from a bottle, but it’s just not the same.

    Hopefully one day the facility can be taken over, revamped, and re-opened. It’s time for The Big Olive to once again stand proud alongside The Big Pelican and Map the Miner as an Aussie icon. The Big Olive is a wonderful attraction and deserves to be seen and enjoyed in all its sumptuous glory.

    I guess you could say olive them so much it hurts!

  • Scotty the Big Scotsman, Adelaide, SA

    Scotty the Big Scotsman, Medindie, Adelaide, South Australia

    What’s beneath a Scotsman’s kilt? Head to Scotty’s Motel, in the northern Adelaide suburb of Medindie, to find out. There’ll you’ll encounter the five-metre-tall Big Scotsman, who makes up for his lack of trousers by having a truly remarkable story to tell.

    Scotty, as he’s known to his clan of admirers, is a beloved citizen of the city and a must-see tourist attraction. Brimming with old-world charm and quirky effervescence, he’s sure to melt your heart. Sure, he can be tricky to take a snap with due to the hordes of cars that crawl past day and night, but he’s worth it. Oh, is Scotty worth it!

    Despite scarcely looking a day over 21, this handsome highlander holds a tenuous claim to being the very oldest of the Bigs. Scotty first blew his bagpipes in 1963, the same year as Ploddy the Dinosaur was revealed to a curious public and 12 months before the owners of The Big Banana jumped on the Big Thing bandwagon.

    Who came first, the Scotsman or the Diplodocus? It’s a question that’s caused heated debate between South Australians and New South Welshpeople for generations. Plod-Plod is a few months older, but don’t tell fans of this haggis-fuelled heartthrob – they’ll tartan feather me!

    Now, join me in a journey back in time, to discover the legacy of this trailblazing Big. Oh, and I might be kilty of peeking betwixt Scotty’s muscular legs, but I swear it was only for research purposes – teehee!

    The Scotland Down Under

    Adelaide was a very different place back in the early-60s. Long before emerging as a cosmopolitan oasis with a thriving arts scene, there wasn’t a single overside roadside attraction to be found. It was a dark time, an uncouth time, but the winds of change were beginning to blow.

    When budding entrepreneur Tommy Meiken was designing his minimalist motel on the fringe of the CBD, he wanted something BIG to make it stand out from the pack. The answer, after a Scotch-fuelled brainstorming session, was obvious – a Scotsman of epic proportions who would lurk atop the front door, beckoning weary travellers inside.

    Come for the giant European gentleman with the wispy moustache, stay for the moderately comfortable beds and à la carte breakfast, you know how it works.

    After an exhaustive interview process, Paul Kelly – no, not the popstar! – was chosen for the job. Despite being a successful artist, a manufacturing a monstrous Scotsman was a sporran concept to Paul. Modelling the sculpture on a particularly robust chum, he built Scotty in three pieces over the course of several very special months.

    “People thought I was mad and I thought, ‘Oh, no, bugger it all. I’ll do it’,” chuckled Paul, who is obviously a Glasgow-half-full kinda guy. “I took up the challenge and it worked.”

    The results were astonishing. Simple one-bedroom rooms, priced at hundreds of dollars per night, were booked out months in advance. South Australia’s glitterati mingled with international celebrities – including that other famous Scotsman, Sean Connery – by the swimming pool. The motel had been transformed into a veritable Garden of Edinburgh.

    Soon Adelaide would welcome The Big Pigeon and The Big Hills Hoist, cementing her place at the apex of world culture.

    And then darkness descended upon this part of the world.

    Nightmare in Adelaide

    Thursday, January 20, 2022, is a day that that no South Australian will ever forget. Daybreak painted the summer sky an intoxicating tapestry of pinks and purples, but also illuminated a scene so ghastly, so vile, that it caused grown men to fall to their knees in a cascade of tears.

    Bloodthirsty thugs, intent on destroying all that’s good and pure in the world, had attached a set of googly eyes to Scotty’s face. The city, and its most beloved resident, had lost their innocence.

    Scotty’s Motel manager Greg Hobson witnessed a gang of four men and one woman using a cherry picker under cover of darkness to commit the hate crime. Understandably, he was too terrified to approach the goons.

    “What started as a light-hearted prank has turned slightly more serious as poor old Scotty has sustained some damage,” Greg wept. “His sporran appears to be quite loose and there appears to be some damage to the side panels.”

    The proud Scotsman, who had endured so much, had suffered a near-fatal 1.5-metre tear down his left leg. There was even talk, in hushed tones, of an amputation.

    “He’s sustained a lot of pranks over the years, but this is probably the most damaging one we’ve had so far,” Greg continued. “He’s such an icon. It’s going to be quite upsetting to a lot of people that he’s been hurt in the process.”

    The lunatics responsible were later revealed to be a couple of useless shock jocks named Liam and Ben, who immediately went into hiding.

    In times of yore, it was common for the adversaries of highlanders to be hung, drawn and quartered for their misdeeds. That’s a fate too good for the punks responsible, but don’t worry. The locals have a way of dealing with such matters 😉

    Scotty doesn’t know, but Scotty has to go

    Scotty’s endured more than any Big ever should, but he may succumb to the inevitable march of progress and our unquenchable thirst for overpriced inner-city tenements. The hotel is likely to be bulldozed, so Scotty’s looking for a new home.

    The motel’s owner, Yanka Shopov, is determined to do all she can to keep this little slice of Australiana alive.

    “People love it,” Yanka told a perplexed reporter from the BBC. “Years ago I remember little kids used to cry if we were booked out and they wanted to sleep under the Scotsman. But the thing is he is very expensive. He is exposed to the weather day and night and it costs $7,000 to $9,000 to have him painted. It’s not cheap but he draws attention to the business here.”

    Ms Shapov, a kind-hearted woman and one of the most gregarious hosts one could ever wish to meet, has intimated that she’s willing to donate Scotty to the History Trust of South Australia should he be forced from his longtime home.

    They can take our lives, but they will never take our BIG SCOTSMAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

  • The Loch-Eel Monster, Lochiel, SA

    Lochie the Loch-Eel Monster, Lochiel, South Australia

    For time immemorial, word has been passed down from father to son about an eel-like creature of immense proportions lurking in the depths of Lake Bumbunga. Once in a generation, when the silvery moon shines just right upon the lagoon, a terrified local may catch a glimpse of the Loch-Eel Monster and run frantically into the hinterland. Then, once more, nothing.

    Deciding that the good people of Lochiel had suffered enough, Gordon and I donned our detective caps and travelled into the wilderness to investigate this ages-old mystery. Well, I popped on an audacious cultural headdress whilst Gordon championed an understated, windswept motif, but you don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to discover that we looked fabulous!

    Approaching the rolling hills 90 minutes north of Adelaide, we hoped our bravery would allow this proud community to eel their damaged hearts. With scuba tanks and searchlights, we set about the arduous task of locating this elongated fish.

    Well, it turns out the Loch-Eel Monster was actually pretty easy to find. He is, after all, four metres high and 10m long metres long, and sits in the middle of a bone-dry, iridescent pink, salt lake. Despite all reports, he’s a friendly chap, and it’s not unusual to find dozens of bewitched visitors posing for cute selfies with the beast.

    ‘Lochie’, as he’s known by his legion of admirers, has become a much-loved feature of this bizarre and beautiful region. But his backstory is every bit as bonkers as he is.

    Can you eel the love tonight?

    Lochie can trace his fam-eel-y tree back to a similar, if cruder, Big that was built back in the mid-80s. Known, amusingly, as the Lochiel Ness Monster, this critter was constructed from car tyres and simply appeared one night.

    Despite her grotesque appearance, ‘Nessie’ wriggled her way into the hearts of the community. Her popularity caught the attention of local mechanic Wayne Dennis, who saw an opportunity to app-eel to an even larger audience.

    “Just about everyone who goes past Lochiel knows the one that’s out there with the tyres,” Wayne told an bew-eel-dered reporter. “My mum used to live at Lochiel and, after I’d heard the monster’s head had gone missing, I thought, well, this could be a good time to make something better and put it closer to the town. I thought if we can make something bigger, it’ll put Lochiel on the map.”

    Wait a second, Wayne, don’t plonk the entire town of Lochiel on Map – he’s strong, but not that strong!

    “So, I started thinking about what I could make it out of. Originally, I was going to use a TV tower, and thread all these tyres on there. I knew it had to be a cross between a Loch Ness Monster and a prehistoric eel because the town’s called Loch-Eel.”

    Very droll, Wayne, but I’m the one who tells the jokes around here!

    Fortunately, Wayne didn’t have to beg, borrow and eel to finance the project. He negotiated a good eel with the local council, who slithered in with a sizeable grant. He built his snazzy serpent from fibreglass and paper mâché, wrapped around a stainless-eel rod and wire mesh.

    This brave man rarely slept, so consumed was he by his passion project. He barely even stopped for his evening eel – teehee!

    Even better than the eel thing

    A true savant of the Bigs, Wayne did things his own way as he forged ahead with the Loch-Eel Monster.

    “I had a red reflector, the same as what’s on the signposts on the road,” he revealed. “I thought that would make a good eye. So, I made the whole thing in proportion to that. The mouth opens and shuts. I’ve made a funnel, so that when the wind blows, it opens the mouth, and when the wind stops, it shuts.

    “I also wanted to make it high enough so that if you’re standing in front of it, you can’t reach up and pull on its mouth.”

    So remember, guys, loch but don’t touch!

    You need a thick skin to be an aesthetically-pleasing ray-finned fish in a rural community on the edge of the outback, and Lochie has that in spades.

    “I’d never fibre-glassed anything in my life before”, Wayne pontificated. “The skin actually turned out right because it wasn’t all smooth; it was sort of rough. With the help of grey and black paint, it made it look like skin.”

    Yes, when it comes to creating eerily-lifelike Bigs, Wayne was determined to reinvent the eel.

    The eels on the bus go round and round

    The completed sculpture was plonked onto twin trailers and carted out to the salt flats. Locals could barely conc-eel their excitement about having their very own Big! But how to ensure Lochie wouldn’t eel over in a strong breeze?

    “I spent lots of nights thinking about how we were going to put it in the ground,” Wayne explained. “In the end, I came up with the idea of digging holes, putting tractor tyres in there, and backfilling them with dirt.

    “Tractor tyres won’t rot away – they’ll last forever – and there are stainless-steel rods going through it. So, hopefully, it’ll last a long time because it’s in real salty water.”

    Wayne, your eerily-eel-istic masterpiece shall terrify and tantalise generations to come. The majestic Loch-Eel Monster makes for a truly surr-eel sight in the midst of a flaming fuchsia fields. Yes, Lochie certainly gets my eel of approval!

    Eel the world, make it a better place

    Lake Bumbunga, with its salmon-hued salt flats, provides a breathtaking and, at times, confronting backdrop for an encounter with Lochie. It’s a quiet place, an ancient place, where the crackle of one’s own feet crunching across the sodium crystals can create a cacophony.

    The setting of the sun is a time of spiritual awakening at the lake. With the mystery of the Loch-Eel Monster solved, Gordon and I relaxed on banana lounges upon the roseate landscape and, drinks in hand, watched a rich tapestry of stars roll out across the sky. For the two of us, it provided a moment of quiet contemplation

    Lochie’s mouth opened and closed gently in the breeze, and I plucked several granules of salt from the lakebed to add to my decadent goblet of caramel and pomegranate liqueur.

    “You know, Bigs,” Gordon said sleepily, before taking a contemplative sip from a margarita glass rimmed with coral-coloured salt. “I think we have a good life.”

    “Me too,” I smiled.

    “Me three,” came a surprisingly soft voice from the immense eel who towered above us. The three of us laughed as the Milky Way blazed above us, and all was well in the universe.

  • The Big Pigeon, Adelaide, SA

    The Big Pigeon, Adelaide, South Australia

    Trundle down Rundle Mall any day of the beak, and you’ll flappen upon the peck-tacular Big Pigeon. The elegant, mirrored bird was lovingly crafted by local artist Paul Sloan and strutted into town in late-2020. Adelaidians, not surprising, have been cooing and ahhing at him ever since.

    Despite his flashy looks, he’s a bashful chap and the epitome of the boy nest door. The Big Pigeon cost a very reasonable $174,000, which begs the question of why the local council haven’t created an entire flock of delightfully large birds.

    Sublimely melding the cheeky nature of pigeons with the confrontingly angular architecture Adelaide’s famous for, he demands passersby pause for a moment of quiet reflection amongst the hustle and bustle of this burgeoning world city.

    A little bird told me that Paul Sloan’s lifelong fascination for pigeons inspired his genre-defying steel masterpiece – which is a feather in his cap as far as I’m concerned.

    “I see pigeons as proud flaneurs, promenading through our leisure and retail precincts,” the virtuoso pontificated. “They are the quiet witnesses of our day-to-day activities in the city, our observers from day through to night.”

    Thank you, Paul Sloan, for allowing me to have a birds-eye view of your passion project.

    Birds of a feather go BIG together

    Widely regarded as the most handsome chap in Adelaide (quite a feat considering that Scotty the Big Scotsman is just up the road), The Big Pigeon isn’t completely u-beak. He’s a dead winger for an equally-dovely feathered friend in Blackpool, England – Big Bird.

    You might say that I’m obsessed with oversized representations of this particular breed of bird, but that’s not true! I’ve also had dalliances with The Big Kookaburra, The Big Chook, The Big Parrot and Chinute Chinute.

    Then there’s Katey Seagull, Stanley the Emu, the Big Eagle and Charlie.

    And Bruno. And The Big Galahs. Oh, and the deceptively nimble Chickaletta.

    Feeling sweet? Then fall in loooove with the The Big Honeyeater! Wanna cash some cans at the same time? The Big Bowerbird is for you!

    Let’s not forget The Big Pelican in Loxton! And Pelican Pete in Noosaville!

    Aaaand the incomparable, transcendent, utterly sublime Big Penguin!

    So don’t pigeonhole me, buddy!

    What’s dong with people these days?

    Trigger warning: The following passage contains graphic depictions of pigeon abuse and general naughtiness. As Land of the Bigs is a family website, I implore you to cover your little one’s eyes before delving any further. You’re welcome.

    The brave, regal Big Pigeon is a shining symbol of everything magical and innocent and proud and wonderful that Adelaide has to offer. That didn’t stop him, however, from running afowl of a depraved pervert with a massive pecker.

    The lunatic – probably high on cheap lollies and red cordial and without a pigeon of concern for the public’s wellbeing – attached what is commonly known as a ‘dildo’ to the front of the gentle fellow. This contraption, which apparently takes the form of a frighteningly-accurate representation of male genitalia, seems to have been placed there as a lark. You could’ve knocked me down with a feather when I found out!

    So enraged were the people of Adelaide that they rioted through the streets for several weeks hence, looking to capture the cretin responsible and toss him, squealing like the pig he was, into the River Torrens. Pigeon Lives Matter, you know!

    I’m going to remain tight-beaked about whether I was involved in the sicko’s disappearance, but let’s just say there are plenty of barrels to pop a pigeon molester into – teehee!

    Oh, and if you’re looking for the dildo, it’s long since been removed. It’s not in any of the bins around Rundle Mall, it hasn’t been tossed into any bushes, and none of the shopkeepers know where it ended up. Trust me, I asked.

  • The Big Ram, Karoonda, SA

    The Big Ram, Karoonda, South Australia

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

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

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

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

    Well, that and the incident with the cheese sauce.

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

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

    On the Ram-page

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Somewhere, in the distance, a lone cassowary cawed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Apple, Balhannah, SA

    The Big Apple, Balhannah, South Australia

    She’s plump, juicy and oh so delicious – but enough about me, the inimitable Bigs Bardot! We’re here to celebrate the scrumptious Big Apple, who sits regally above The Olde Apple Shed, high in the Adelaide Hills.

    This ruby-red rascal is the pride of Balhannah, and boasts a rustic charm just as dainty delicacies she promotes. Stop by for a memorable photo that’s sure to set your socials aflame, then treat yourself to the legendary rhubarb and apple crumble, paired with a decadent dollop of cream.

    If you’re feeling extra naughty, try the freshly-baked shortbread, smeared with some zesty Adelaide marmalade – go on, I won’t tell anyone!

    The Big Apple has become a real peeler of the community over the years, and I must admit to being cored off-guard by her immense girth. What can I say, it’s not every day I meet some as fruity as moi!

    Don’t you think I look wonderful be-cider? I’d like to say I’m the prettiest Pink Lady in Balhannah, although that might upset the apple cart!

    OK, she might not be as famous as some of South Australia’s other Bigs but, really, that’s like comparing apples and oranges! I really should stop with all the apple puns… orchard I?

    How ’bout them apples!

    Grand Granny Smiths, really large Royal Galas and supersized Sundowners can be found the length and breadth of this wide, brown land (of the Bigs). There’s an apple in Yerrinbool, another apple in Tallong, and a really cute apple in Darkes Forest that’s almost as gorgeous as me… almost!

    There’s an awe-inspiring Red Delicious inside the Bilpin Fruit Bowl and, if you prefer your maças wrapped tenderly in flaky pastry, the Big Apple Pie just down the road. The highest concentration of Big Apples is, undoubtedly, in Batlow, where there are Big Things apple-enty!

    For those willing to take a salacious bite from a forbidden fruit, The Big Apple in Acacia Ridge is home to a fairly seedy adult shop. If that sort of smut a-peels to you, I don’t know what you’re doing on a wholesome website such as this.

    All are equally tasty, so I guess the Big Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!

  • The Protest Statues, Lower Light, SA

    The Protest Statues, Lower Light, South Australia

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Aliens and rodents and flies – oh my!

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Between a cockroach and a hard place

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Orange, Berri, SA

    The Big Orange, Berri, South Australia

    Rising fifteen metres above the outback, The Big Orange is undoubtedly South Australia’s finest feat of engineering. Generations of Aussies have gazed in wonder at her enormity and stepped, hearts aflutter, into her juicy endocarp. This Orange is more than just Big; her grandeur is all-consuming.

    Songs have been sung about this spherical marvel. Legends of her size have been passed down from father to son to grandson. This colossal citrus is the very fabric upon which this country has been built. But now the Orange stands empty, wilting in the relentless sun, serving as a totem to everything rotten with modern society.

    What should be a monument to all Australia has achieved, has instead become a national disgrace. This is the story of a people who have strayed from their path, and the enormous roadside attraction, once the pride of this sunburnt land, that has become collateral damage.

    This is the tragedy of The Big Orange.

    The zest laid plans…

    The 1970s was an exhilarating decade for a spirited young country discovering its own unique identity. The Sydney Opera House was shocking the architectural community. The Bee Gees were turning the heavy metal world on its head. Rolf Harris was showing off a more refined, sophisticated edge to our society. Nothing epitomised this cultural awakening quite like the influx of Big Things – led, of course, by Ploddy the Dinosaur – and South Australia was at the forefront of this movement.

    Following the resounding success of Adelaide’s Scotty the Big Scotsman, local entrepreneurs Bronte Coombe, Vern ‘Chubby’ Chubb and David Marshall wanted to get in on the action. Each tipped in $145,000, before handing over design and construction duties to John Twopenny from Hoffmann Engineering. John, you were worth every penny!

    Constructed from fibreglass panels over a steel frame and weighing an impressive 85 tonnes, The Big Orange boasted four interior levels and a viewing platform offering stunning vistas over the area’s orchards. There was space inside for a conference centre, souvenir shop and 360 degree mural that, from all reports, put the Sistine Chapel to shame.

    When The Big Orange was officially opened on January 14, 1980, crowds of crow-eaters squeezed in to be a part of history. The landscape of Berri had changed forever but, more importantly, the very essence of what it means to be Australian had transformed. With the opening of The Big Orange, Australia thrust herself onto the world stage. A progressive and daring land, the equal of any that had come beforehand.

    The future looked as sweet as the Valencias the Big Orange was modelled upon. The reality, however, would prove to be as sour and withered as a Seville (which is, for reference, the most bitter and inedible variety of orange that is commonly grown).

    More than a peeling

    Millions of visitors and the sort of rockstar celebrity that most Bigs can only dream of couldn’t protect this landmark from the twin henchmen of time and eroding moral values. By the turn of the century The Big Orange was in poor condition and running at a loss. Sadly, she was sold to an employment agency for a paltry $100,000.

    This was a poor financial move as, not surprisingly, most jobseekers preferred to admire The Big Orange than find gainful employment. She was sold once more to Kevin Dickerson, a man with a big heart and even bigger dreams. He envisioned her as South Australia‘s answer to Disneyland, with the Big Orange as the bulbous counterpoint to the Magic Kingdom.

    Of course, the Americans had their own Big Orange, which entered the national zeitgeist and altered the course of North American politics, but it was nothing compared to our down under wonder. Kev’s ambitions, tragically, ran deeper than his pockets, and the Orange was put into liquidation.

    Honestly, with disappointment like that, it’s no surprise the locals took to popping each other in barrels.

    Local golf enthusiasts suggested painting her up like an oversized Titleist but, thankfully, this mockery never came to fruition. I guess they just didn’t have the drive to see it through. The site was instead bought by a local businessman, who still hopes reopen it as a tourist attraction someday.

    But someday, as the pop rock poets from Creedence Clearwater Revival once told us, may never come.

    Stripped of her dignity

    Disturbingly, a repulsive suggestion to transform the Big Orange into a low-rent strip club has gained momentum amongst the dregs of society.

    Rest assured that myself and some other ‘Karens’ are doing everything in our power to ensure this appalling citrus-ation is not allowed to germinate – and that those responsible spend sufficient time in one of the Riverlands’ most inhumane penal colonies.

    See how much you enjoy the lapdances in there, boys!

    We’ll see you a’rind

    Today The Big Orange sits, alone and afraid, behind a gnarled barbed-wire fence by the Sturt Highway. She’s in surprisingly good condition considering what she’s been through and, whilst it’s not possible to venture inside or touch her rippled exocarp, it’s easy to see her from the side of the road.

    She serve as a testament to what South Australians can achieve, and represents all that’s good and wholesome and adventurous about this harsh corner of the planet. But she’s also the bittersweet emblem of a state tossed upon a sea of bigotry against gigantic roadside representations of fruit.

    I’d go as far as to say that the government’s reaction to this tragedy has been pith-etic, but now is not the time for amusing wordplay.

    The Big Orange holds a mirror up to modern-day Australia. The question is, how many of us are willing to take a good, hard look at ourselves?

  • 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!

  • Kangaroo Kat, Carrara, QLD

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

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

    Planks for the memories, guys!

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

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

    Kat’s not all, folks!

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

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

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

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

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

    Gangaroo activity

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

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

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

  • 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 😉

  • Katey Seagull, Tugun, QLD

    Katey Seagull, Tugun, Queensland, Australia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Man on the Bike, Tallebudgera, QLD

    The Man on the Bike, Tallebudgera, Queensland, Australia

    The Man on the Bike has been the heart and soul of the Tallebudgera Valley for more than four decades, and anyone who says otherwise is pedalling misinformation.

    The dapper gentleman, complete with boater and bowtie, coasted into the Gold Coast in 1970 when the tandem of Cliff Douglas and shock jock Bob Rogers bought him from a ski school. I guess he could snow longer handle the cold winters.

    And what a monument to the strength and temerity of the local population he’s proven to be! Perched proudly atop his vintage penny-farthing, the Man can be seen by all who approach the roundabout he watches over, many of whom circle several times to admire their hero, causing serious traffic congestion.

    The locals had another larger-than-life legend to lolligag over the day that I, the inimitable Bigs Bardot, turned up to for this exclusive photo shoot. Wanting me to feel like part of the community, I was greeted to hearty calls of, “Get off the f***ing road!” and, “Die you lycra-wearing scum!” by passing drivers.

    I’ve never felt so welcome in my life.

    Feel the burn!

    It’s been quite a ride for The Man on the Bike, with more ups and downs than a stage of the Tour de Mudgeeraba. Most notably, his admirers were left sui-cycle when, in 2014, a gang of unchained lunatics decided to be wheely mean by setting the Man alight.

    The statue was burnt to the ground and Tallebudgerans – many of whom are re-tyre-ees – were forced to consult cycle-ologists to deal with the trauma. The wheels, however, were soon in motion to rebuild this bicycling bad boy.

    Like Cadel Evans rising from the ashes during the penultimate stage of the 2011 Tour de France to gazump Andy Schleck on his way to becoming the oldest post-World War II winner of the iconic race (and the only one from Katherine), The Man on the Bike exhibited the determination and return from oblivion – with a little help from his support crew.

    “It has been an icon to Tallebudgera for years and we want it looking good,” spokes-man Warwick Lawson told a gathering of enthralled well-wishers during a fundraiser. “It is a point of reference. You say to any local the ‘man on the bike’ and they know where it is right away.”

    If not, you might be up the creek without a saddle!

    A crust-see attraction!

    There’s quite a peloton of giant pushies these days, with the Big Bicycle in Chullora and A Life’s Ride over in Sacramento. It appears that the world will never tyre of these types of monuments!

    And so, it seems, that all roads in the valley lead towards the Man on the Bike and the pizza shop named in his honour. It’s not unusual to find lycra-clad bike-sexuals, legs shaved, helmets strapped firmly to heads despite the low probability of collisions, chowing down on the restaurant’s famous pepperoni pizzas.

    I’m not sure what they cost, but it couldn’t be much more than a penny farthing.

  • The Big Guitar, Surfers Paradise, QLD

    The Big Guitar, Surfers Paradise, Queensland, Australia

    “While My Big Guitar Gently Weeps”

    I look at the Hard Rock Cafe, see the people there eating
    While my Big Guitar gently weeps
    My love for him will not be fleeting
    Still my Big Guitar gently weeps

    I don’t know why nobody told you
    The Guitar was installed in ’96
    It cost half-a-million to mould you
    I long to hold you

    In 2004 I noticed the Big Guitar was burning
    Yes, my Big Guitar gently weeps
    Within a few months, he was returning
    Still my Big Guitar gently weeps

    I don’t know how you were alerted
    That my efforts to play with you were concerted, too
    Please don’t say that I’m perverted
    I just really want to pluck you

    I look with joy at how well you’re ageing
    While my Big Guitar gently weeps
    My lust for your tight little tuning pegs is raging
    Alright, maybe I am a creep

    Love all, serve… well, no one

    The Hard Rock Cafe shut down in 2022, but I’m going to pull a few strings to ensure the 10-metre-tall Big Guitar remains a Surfers Paradise icon for generations to come. Some call me a hero, but I prefer to be known simply as the inimitable Bigs Bardot, the Greatest Friend the Big Things of Australia have ever known. You’re welcome.

    Vale The Big Guitar

    It’s with a heavy heart that I report The Big Guitar was torn down in March 2023, almost immediately after my enquiries. Perhaps my standing within the Gold Coast business community isn’t as robust as I thought it was. Oh well, there’s always The Big Banjos in Kin Kin!

    Vale The Big Banjos in Kin Kin

    Oops!

  • The Big Octopus, Surfers Paradise, QLD

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Watch out! He’s armed and fabulous!

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

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

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

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

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

  • Geckomania, Southport, QLD

    Geckomania, Southport, Queensland, Australia

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

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

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

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

    The Wonderful Lizards of Oz

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

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

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

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

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

  • Bigfoot, Surfers Paradise, QLD

    Bigfoot, Surfers Paradise, Queensland, Australia

    Bigfoot is sick of hiding, and has retired to an exclusive beachside chateau on the Gold Coast.

    The legendary monster now spends his days perusing the local tattoo dens, dodging drunks in Cavill Avenue and tanning himself to a crisp on Surfers Paradise beach.

    Bigfoot’s Cave can be found in the midst of the verdant McIntosh Island Park, and can be reached via a baroque bridge that spans a bubbling brook. Just sasq-watch your step so you don’t fall in the water.

    The cave makes a cute location for a photo but, like many apartments in the area, doesn’t have a lot of space. He won’t be inviting his friends the GeckoMania, The King of Atlantis, Ring-O and Maddie & Mike over for a housewarming anytime soon, then!

    Never one to conform to social norms and always at the cutting edge of fashion, Bigfoot sports glamorous black nail polish on his famous footsies. If you’re wondering whether his penchant for personal grooming has also led to a Brazilian wax, I can assure you it has not.

    There’s nothing abominable about this hirsute heartthrob, and he’s now the toes-t of the town. And you know what they say about a man with big feet – he must be a Big Thing!

  • The Big Apple, Acacia Ridge, QLD

    The Big Apple, Acacia Ridge, Queensland, Australia

    Bright red and perfectly spherical, the Acacia Ridge Big Apple lures in unsuspecting visitors with the promise of a wholesome photo opportunity. But be warned, because this scarlet woman is rotten to the core.

    Disarmingly located in a suburban car park, the innocent-looking treat is surrounded by a dog-grooming salon and a well-stocked ethnic supermarket. It’s an idyllic slice of Australiana – or so I thought.

    Preening for my photos, I spied a sign beneath the Big Apple advertising a nearby Adult Store. I’m an adult, so I gleefully trotted inside to hunt for magnets, stickers and puffy pens dedicated to the Big Apple.

    Not only was my search for cute souvenirs a fruitless one, but I found myself thrust into a world of decadence and depravity from which I feared I would never escape.

    A real bad apple

    The stench of sweat and desperation marinated through me well before my eyes were able to adjust to the dank boutique. A true den of iniquity, the Naked Passion Adult Store boasted grotesque silicone totems that were confronting for their bulbous, vaguely human shapes, and startling size.

    Honestly, some people need to get a life! Who needs an enormous rubber fist when Ally the Alpaca and the Big Pie are nearby and begging to be explored?

    I was tempted by the questionable pleasures of edible underpants, a concept which is at once unsanitary and vaguely silly. The texture of the garments proved oddly off-putting and the flavour – cranberry – slightly metallic. I also found their durability to be left wanting, with a pair unlikely to make it through a big day of hunting Big Things.

    To my dismay the leather swings hanging from the ceiling were impractical, uncomfortable and lacking any sort of recognised safety accreditation. What a shame!

    There was even something called erotic body chocolate. Let me tell you, there was nothing erotic about the stains it left on my fashionable tunic when it finally came time for me to redress.

    Fed up with this crass display of debauchery, I asked the chubby little man behind the counter whether he had anything for someone obsessed with big fruits. He nodded knowingly and led me through a secret door and along a narrow, dark hallway lined with dated carpet that clung to my feet as I walked.

    The temperature seemed to rise as we walked, so my skin was slick with sweat by the time the rotund fellow unlocked a heavy deadbolt and pushed me, whimpering, into the unknown space beyond.

    An apple a day keeps their clothes away

    What I witnessed that Tuesday afternoon will haunt me until my final breath. The dungeon was packed to overflowing with heavy-set gentlemen wearing bizarre fancy dress costumes, if anything at all. None of them seemed appropriately attired for a visit to a Big Thing and, if they were carrying any souvenirs or nik-naks, they had them very well hidden.

    My attempts to engage the perverts in conversation about the history of the Big Apple were met with scorn, and their knowledge of the social and cultural significance of roadside attractions seemed limited at best.

    Fortunately the generous array of snacks on offer were delicious – the guacamole dip in particular was superb – and I quite enjoyed whipping a heavily-tattooed gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to my stepfather Craig.

    Why couldn’t you accept me, Craig? I was just a boy!

    Even the deranged cackles of “Hey Bigs, show us your Big Banana!” and “Hey Bigs, is that the World’s Tallest Tin Soldier in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” became less threatening with time.

    When I eventually stumbled out into the fading twilight several hours later, I was seeing the world through different eyes. Those creepy men aren’t not so different from me, wandering this cold blue planet, lonely and afraid, seeking comfort and love in the most unusual places.

    Sure, their journeys involve casual sex in public toilets whilst mine climax with a super cute photo of a massive Brussels spout or chook, but you get the point.

    I may have changed, but the Big Apple, that crimson beacon of hope lighting up the outskirts of southern Brisbane, remained the same. I smiled, climbed atop my scooter, and rode off into the sunset.

  • Ally the Alpaca, One Mile, QLD

    Ally the Alpaca, One Mile, Queensland, Australia

    Dropping the little ones off at pre-school is a heart-wrenching experience for any parent. But the mummies and daddies of Ipswich can rest easy in the knowledge their kiddies are being cared for by a bizarre giraffe/alpaca/human hybrid with a stylish bob.

    Ally the Alpaca is the star employee at Ally’s Kindy in the trendy suburb of One Mile, and is the wackiest Big Thing in Australia. Passersby and students alike could be forgiven for thinking they’ve missed their afternoon nap or are suffering the heady effects of guzzling too much red cordial.

    Despite this, her slender neck, chubby cheeks and sultry eyelashes are impossible to resist. She draws in admirers of all ages, teaching them the joys of being body-positive. Casting aside the shackles of gender and species conformity, Ally provides little ones with a valuable lesson in diversity.

    Ally was al-packaged together by Natureworks, the savants responsible for Frilly the Lizard, the Big Thorny Devil and the Big Koala Family.

    “Recently Ally’s Kindy near Ipswich asked for Natureworks’ help to put them on the map,” an excitable spokesperson revealed. “We started by taking their logo, which was a cartoon character of a friendly alpaca, and sculpted a larger-than-life version of its head. We then morphed its head onto our six-metre giraffe body and gave it a repaint.”

    There’s no doubt about it, this llama is a charmer!

    Long, tall Ally

    My playmate Gordon Shumway was acting like a big baby during our trip to One Mile, due to the decline in value of his Ethereum portfolio.

    I needed a break from his antics so I could enjoy a slice of something naughty and a good gossip with the girls in Ipswich, so I dropped Gordon off at Ally’s. The service, not surprisingly, was impeccable, and I was reassured that the little alien was in safe hands.

    Barely had I tucked into a decadent serving of red velvet cake when my phone rang. I reluctantly pulled myself away from one of the girls’ enthralling – and really quite graphic – retelling of an encounter with local heartthrob Fernando, only to be told to come pick up Gordon immediately.

    I arrived at the kindergarten, the sweet memories of buttermilk and cocoa resting heavy upon my lips, to find a dejected Gordon sitting in the gutter alone. My heart broke for my tiny friend. Ally’s expression, usually so whimsical, had become one of disdain.

    “Why won’t they accept me, man?” Gordon whimpered as we drove away, a single tear rolling down his furry face.

    “Spending our lives surrounded by Bigs, with their kind hearts and non-judgemental attitudes, means we live within an echo chamber of unconditional love. But the world can be a harsh place and many people still aren’t ready for those of us who challenge their binary ideals.”

    “Yeah, and I also tried to eat their pet cat.”

    As we cruised through the idyllic suburbs of South Brisbane, Gordon was unusually quiet. Eventually, as we pulled into his favourite El Savadoran restaurant, the little alien placed his hand upon mine and gave me a wry smile.

    “Bigs, do you think I have a shot with Ally?”

    “Gordon,” I chuckled. “Ally has great legs, but she’s too tall for you.”

  • The Camira Critters, Camira, QLD

    The Camira Critters, Camira, Queensland, Australia

    Howdy pardner, this is your hat-wearing hawtie Biggie the Kid! I don’t mind a cockatoo, so when word rang round the holler that a gang of giant birds was causin’ trouble out near Ipswich, I jumped on my trusty stead Liberace and moseyed on out to the badlands of Camira.

    The settlement’s welcome sign has long been a thing of cotton-pickin’ beauty, and a source of pride for the natives. By the time I arrived, it had been well and truly overrun by ne’er-do-wells. There was a colossal kookaburra, a prodigious possum and yes – a real hard-lookin’ cocky.

    Ladies and gentlemen, I had run afoul of the notorious Camira Critters.

    It’s not often a fella finds three Big Things nestled so roody-poo close together. When it comes to big, strong, handsome native gentlemen, being outnumbered three-to-one are just the odds this cowboy likes – yeehaw!

    Cocky, Awesome Possum and Kooks – as their legion of admirers know them – aren’t the largest Bigs around, but are handsome enough to make up for it. Several empty poles pointed to the possibility of more gang members, but they didn’t appear. I was half expectin’ a Big Single Mother or a Big Toothless Bogan. It was Ipswich, after all!

    The Good, the Bad and the Cuddly

    I swaggered upon the critters, all tough and rough and overflowin’ with machismo. Unholstered my Kodak Instamatic. Spat a thick wad of Hubba Bubba on the dusty ground, then thought better of it and wrapped it in a small sheeth of paper before carefully disposing of it in the nearest bin.

    “Boys, boys, boys,” I snarled, peering at them with eyes so blue they would make the devil himself run and hide. “I’m going to have to capture you – for a photo! Three of you is guilty of bein’ just too darn cute!”

    Posing majestically with the gang in the wilting light of a Queensland afternoon, a ruckus tore through Camira’s tranquil bushland. Suddenly a coupé utility vehicle – or a ‘ute’, as the natives call it – came to a screeching halt in front of myself and my new friends. We watched in silence as four large, heavily-tattooed scoundrels climbed out, their mullets flapping in the light breeze.

    They were trouble personified. Hate warmed up. A cyclone of bigotry in flanelette shirts.

    The dawn of a new Camira

    “You with this galah?” the leader asked, pointing at the oversized animals. There was a sneer on his face that could darken the brightest day, and his flunkies howled like a pack of deranged baboons.

    “Actually, he’s a cockatoo,” I replied gallantly. “But yeah, we’re bosom buddies – what are you gonna do ’bout it, amigo?”

    “We was just wonderin’ whether there was any other massive creatures like ’em,” one of the toughs said shyly, kicking at the dirt. I realised that their hyper-aggressive display of toxic masculinity was a mask for their love of Big Things.

    “Of course, my passive-aggressive pal. There’s a gaggle of giant native birds in Queensland, such as Pete, the Big Parrot, and the nearby Big Honeyeater. And y’see that possum there?”

    “How could I miss, him, padre? He’s several times the size of a regular ring-tailed possum.”

    “There are many other mega marsupials scampering around Australia, such as Matilda the Kangaroo, the Big Koala and the Big Tassie Devil.

    “Aw shucks, Biggie,” piped up another gang banger, scribbling into a small notebook. “The only thing bigger than these animals is our love and respect for you.”

    The brutes snapped a series of playful photos with their hero – the one and only Biggie the Kid – before piling back into their coupé utility vehicle and cruising peacefully into the inky twilight.

    Silence descended upon the roadside, and I prepared to say my goodbye to the gang. Kissing the possum on his ring-tail, I climbed atop Liberace once again and reflected upon the lessons I’d learnt. Not all gang-related activity is detrimental to the community. One should never judge a book by its cover, nor a Queenslander by the cut of his mullet.

    And a handsome cowboy, raised on a steady diet of ultraviolence and and fear, can learn the meaning of love.

  • The Big Honeyeater, Logan Reserve, QLD

    The Big Blue-Faced Honeyeater, Logan reserve, Queensland, Australia

    I believe I can fly
    I believe I can kiss this big guy
    I think about Big Blue every night and day
    His handsome wings take my breath away
    I believe he wants more
    Cuddlin’ each other till we’re both sore
    I believe I can fly
    I believe Big Blue’s all mine
    I believe he’s my guy (wooooooo)

    The words of urban visionary R-Kelly resonate with visitors to The Big Blue-Faced Honeyeater, who really will make you believe you can fly.

    This superbly-detailed Big is perched outside the Sequana housing development in trendy Logan Reserve, giving the residents a birds-eye view of his feathery loveliness.

    As twilight settles over this little slice of heaven, the air rings out with calls of, “Honeyeater, I’m home!” It’s no coincidence, therefore, that housing prices in the village are 13.7 percent higher than surrounding, Big Thing-free suburbs.

    Sure, nearby Marsden has a vibrant culinary scene, some of the state’s most respected educational institutions and a range of sprawling, yet immaculately-maintained parks and reserves. But without a Big Thing to call their own, the locals might as well be living in the slums of Mumbai.

    I don’t want your money, Honey, I want your love!

    Blue-faced honeyeaters are native to Logan, although they rarely grow to such epic proportions. It’s not uncommon to witness a clutch of ‘bananabirds’ nestled atop their oversized amigo. What can I say, who doesn’t enjoy a night out with a bigger bird?

    Though generally amicable, honeyeaters are known to violently attack intruders such as goannas and dogs – the perfect security system. Not surprisingly, there have been remarkably few lizard-related ransackings of homes since the winged wonder was installed a few years ago.

    Australians have fallen in plover – oops, I mean in love! – with giant birds. There’s the leggy Stanley the Emu in Lightning Ridge. The wise, yet delightfully chubby Chinute Chinute in Darwin. The Big Chook in Western Sydney and his cousin, Charlie, in Newcastle. And waddled we do without Tasmania’s Big Penguin?

    Oh yeah, and Pelican Pete is just up the road from Big Blue in Noosa – I can’t beak-lieve I forgot about him! The Honeyeater, however, might just be the sweetest of them all.

    Honestly, I could chirp this friendly fowl’s praises until, like him, I’m blue in the face!

  • The Big Pie, Yatala, QLD

    The Big Pie, Yatala, Queensland, Australia

    Feeling famished on the long trip between Brisbane and the Gold Coast? Then bake a stop in Yatala for the best snacks money can pie. The pastries from world famous Yatala Pies receive g-rave-y reviews and are truly to pie for!

    This crust-see attraction is easy to spot – just keep a pie out for the super-sized snack out the front, which sits atop a towering 10 metre s-pie-ke. The iconic Big Pie was served up in the late ’70s, and has been luring in pie-curious passers-pie ever since. This is one pie you just have to meat, and I have a filling you’ll love it!

    Sadly, this cultural landmark is in a state of disrepair and is in danger of being lost amongst a thicket of trees. I’d give it between Four’n Twenty months until he’s totally covered up. And we all know that the only thing that should cover Australia’s national food is a delicious dollop of tomato sauce!

    The 4.5-metre-wide Big Pie is also difficult to take a photo with due to his orientation, facing up and out towards the freeway, rather than his legion of fans beneath his flaky rump. If the owners don’t do something to fix the situation, I’ll be quite pie-rate!

    Despite these failures, Yatala Pies has been operating for over 140 years, and now serve up an un-pie-lievable 3500 treats every day. That’s past-really impressive!

    There’s plenty to keep you occu-pied!

    Casting my keto diet aside in my pursuit of investigative journalism, I swaggered into Yatala Pies and gasped in awe at the size of the menu. Curried chicken, BBQ pork and mushroom mornay pies overwhelmed me, along with a delicious range of sausage rolls, hot chips, pavlovas and apple pies.

    The restaurant, of course, has vegetarian snacks available for pie-chase – the nearby Big Cow will be pleased!

    I like a man who can work a tool, so I opted for a big, tough tradie pie. Sadly, a tradie doesn’t come with it, but the sumptuous blend of steak, bacon, cheese, tomato and egg was just what I needed to power my endless quest for Big Things.

    Good-pie for now!

  • The Big Red Belly, Maudsland, QLD

    The Big Red Belly, Maudsland, Queensland, Australia

    Do you have a viper-active child with heaps of ser-pent-up energy? Want to put a great big reptile on their face? Maybe you’re just after a quiet spot to sit and enjoy a meat pie-thon? Then give the Big Red Belly a try-pan!

    Located in sprawling Gibirrngaan Park within Maudsland’s exclusive Huntington Estates (which, sadly, doesn’t offer anaconda-miniums), the Big Red Bellied Black Snake is surrounded by stunning gardens and play equipment. There are even slides and swings for the asp-iring gymnasts.

    Unlike his cold-blooded cousins, who are amongst the most dangerous snakes on the planet, this concrete colossus is cute and congenial. He welcomes kiddies to climb atop his handsome head, and it’s even possible to perform a-cobra-batics off his tube-like body.

    The adder-ly adorable Big Red Belly was boa-constructed in 2018 by the team at Urban Play, and really is a venom-ust see next time you’re on the Gold Coast. Yeah, forget the world class beaches, fruity nightlife and thrilling theme parks, because this ophidian-credible park in Maudsland is the new centre of the universe.

    Though not as gob-smackingly huge as Gubulla Munda in Ayr, this verte-great big snake is no limb-less impressive. Yes, he’s one in a reptilian, but if you have a foot fetish, you might prefer The Big Thorny Devil in Canberra or Dirrawuhn the Goanna in Lismore.

    The Big Red Belly sure is un-hisssss-able!

    A WORD OF WARNING: It’s not a great idea to ask the children of Maudsland if they’d like to ‘come to the park to see a great big snake’. Thank you to the local constabulary for rescuing me from what would have been a fairly unpleasant public lynching at the hands of the enraged locals.

  • The Big Wheelie Bin, Helensvale, QLD

    The Big Wheelie Bin, Helensvale, Queensland, Australia

    I’ve bin everywhere, man, I’ve bin everywhere! But few places can rival the majesty and mystique of Helensvale Waste & Recycling Centre – home of the Otto-ly delightful Big Wheelie Bin.

    At a dump-foundingly impressive three metres tall, the Bin is wheelie easy to find in the heart of the Gold Coast. He’s fun for Big Thing enthusiasts of all garb-ages, so bring the whole family – yes, even your aunts and junk-les!

    Here’s a hot tip – you can dump your dead car batteries there, it’s free of charge. That’s an offer you can’t refuse. You might even consider composting a song about the Big Bin, just don’t include any dirty lyrics!

    Scrap any plans you have of tossing Big Things like the Big Bowerbird, Big Kookaburra, Murray the Cod and the fowl-smelling Chickaletta into the Wheelie Bin, though. Sure, they’re made up of discarded odds and ends, but aren’t ready to become landfill just yet!

    Entry to the facility is litter-ally free, which is great if you’re trash-strapped at the moment. You might even be able to jump on your bike and re-cycle out there. Don’t waste this opportunity to lift the lid on the Big Wheelie Bin!

    A word of warning

    As I was posing for these cheeky photos I was approached by a burly gentleman in a high-visibility jacket, who sequestered me away to the facility’s security office.

    Apparently the Helensvale Waste & Recycling Centre is a major spoke in Southeast Queensland’s world-renowned rubbish removal system, and the photos I’d taken of myself dancing with The Big Wheelie Bin posed a risk to national security.

    The site supervisor was, thankfully, very understanding of the situation and allowed me to leave without deleting my photos or popping me on a clandestine security watch list. Sometimes I rub-wish people would just leave me alone!

  • 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 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 TikTok 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!

    And if you want something to crow about, why not visit The Crowtrap Crow in Pokol-bin?

    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 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 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.

    Or she may have succumbed to the feminine wiles of The Moonbi Chook.

    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 Pineapple, Gympie, QLD

    The Big Pineapple, Gympie, Queensland

    Trigger warning: the following article contains information and photos of a deceased Big Thing, that you may find distressing. But it also contains a super cute photo of a very young Bigs Bardot wearing a gorgeous pink hat, so it all balances out.

    Gympie was, for a time, the most desirable tourist destination on the planet. Hollywood stars and tech billionaires bypassed Bora Bora as they made their way to this dusty regional centre, three hours north of Brisbane. And it was all because of the Big Pineapple.

    Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley were married at the top and divorced by the time they reached the bottom. Steve Jobs named his company after the Pineapple (dropping the first part of the name due to memory limitations). Even The Gimp from Pulp Fiction was named after Gympie – and you’ll notice his leather tunic sports a distinctive pineapple texture.

    Sadly this statuesque Queensland icon was demolished in 2008, taking with her the five-star resorts and the nightclubs that seemed as if they would never close. It also brought a crashing halt her decades-long rivalry with the nearby Woombye Pineapple.

    Both were completed in 1971, both were 16 metres tall, and the bitter feud threatened to tear the Sunshine State apart. The Woombye team bragged theirs was taller, so the Gympie gang claimed theirs was wider. One side noted theirs had more realistic texturing, so the other boasted theirs had a more authentic shape.

    One was cuter, the other sexier. Spikier. More eco-friendly. Yellower! Greener! Lifelong friendships ended in the shadows of these two bright-yellow Big Things. Families were torn apart. Blood, tragically, was spilled.

    An apple is a pineapple

    Young Bigs Bardot didn’t care about the squabbling, because I just loved both Big Pineapples so much. The day this photo was taken was one of the happiest of my life, even though I wasn’t allowed to have a grilled pineapple like the other children. Sadly, I was also abandoned at the base of the giant fruit by my adopted family after I spent too long cuddling it.

    It was my fault, really.

    Eight days later I was discovered, huddling in the Pineapple’s crown, surviving on half-sucked pineapple-shaped lollies and the remnants of a pineapple-flavoured snow cone. I had come to see the Gympie Pineapple as a mother figure, my protector and only friend, and it was with great trauma that I was wrenched from her supple bosom.

    The community dubbed me ‘The Little Pineapple’ as they fruitlessly attempted to find me a new family. However, potential foster families found it difficult to bond with a boy who believed himself to be a sweet, tropical fruit. They would find me half-buried in the backyard, begging to be sliced into rings and placed on a hamburger. Like the icon I was named after, the locals eventually lost interest in me, and I was left to rot.

    Fortunately, unlike the Big Pineapple I wasn’t knocked over by a wrecking ball, and was instead quietly removed from my care home and left to fend for myself in this cold, emotionless world. Still, I won’t allow any of that to sully my wonderful memories of the gorgeous Gympie Pineapple.

  • 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 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!

  • 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 Powerful Owl, Belconnen, ACT

    The Big Powerful Owl, Belconnen, Australian Capital Territory

    Alright, stop your hooting! Let’s get the obvious out of the way – the Big Powerful Owl looks more like the Big Powerful Male Appendage. But don’t let that scare you away from this eight-metre avian, who was erected in 2011.

    The Owl was pumped out by Bruce Armstrong and cast from steel, hard wood and lots of nuts, based on a design doodled on a napkin. There was a bit of a balls-up during construction and the cost expanded to $400,000. I certainly hope Bruce didn’t get stiffed on his share.

    Oi, I’ve already told you to stop laughing. Seriously, grow up!

    The powerful owl is the largest species in Australia, so Bruce depicted it as a scrotum… sorry, I mean a totem, watching over the land. Maybe he’s the dong lost cousin of Darwin’s Chinute Chinute. The Owl, that is, not Bruce.

    Tragically, local wang members have been known to deface this regal creature, causing thousands of dollars worth of damage. He was even pulled off pubic display for a while. A security camera has been installed nearby, and hopefully these miscreants will soon be given the shaft.

    Right, that’s your last warning. Any more giggling and I’m going to fly the coop.

    I was wet with excitement when I met the Owl, and it wasn’t just from the rain. His length, girth and rigidity were almost more than I could handle. In fact, he’s nearly as much fun to play with as Alan Davidson’s Balls.

    The equally member-able Big Mushroom is just metres away, and the Big Horny… I mean THORNY Devil isn’t far away, either.

    And in case you’re wondering whether ACT Tourism paid me for this story, the answer is no. I did it pro-boner, thanks foreskin… I mean for asking!

    OK, that’s it. You’re being absolutely ridickulous. Anyone would think you’d never seen a gigantic Penis Owl before.

  • 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 Big Acorns, Molonglo Valley, ACT

    The Big Acorns, Molonglo Valley, Australian Capital Territory

    You’ll go nuts for these king-sized kernels, which loom large over the National Arboretum Canberra and double as a playground. Just make sure to behave yourself, or you’ll end up in the naughty acorner!

    The Pod Playground burst open on June 22, 2013, and I’m not oaking when I say it’s nutting short of incredible. Not only are there all sorts of slippery dips and swings to explore, but there’s also a collection of burly banksia pods in which to hide from the cold, dark world and the ravages of time.

    Seedless to say, the Big Acorns offer a nice, peaceful spot foresting up after hunting Big Things all day. The Mushroom, Coins, Moths and Thorny Devil are all ex-tree-meley close.

    For another attraction that’ll ex-seed your expectations, try the Big Pine Cones.

    Unfortunately the weather was rather inclement when I visited, and I braved a violent electrical storm to bring you these photos. You may call me a hero, but I can honestly think of no better way to leave this world than having my head explode from the power of 10 million vaults whilst sheltered within the bowels of a Big. Ah, a boy can dream!

    You probably expect me to wrap this up with acorny joke, but that’s not my style!

  • The Giant Mushroom, Belconnen, ACT

    The Giant Mushroom, Belconnen, ACT

    For a ’room with a view, you can’t beat this monstrous mushie! She sprouted up beside the Belconnen Fresh Food Market in 1998, with a well-appointed playground beneath her colossal cap. Just be warned that, with so many slippery dips and see-saws, there’s not mushroom inside for adults.

    With a diameter of almost 16 metres, the Giant Mushroom is the grandest Big Thing in the ACT. She could do with a new coat of paint, however, and it can be difficult to grab a photo with her because she’s tucked away amongst the markets.

    A downpour added to my difficulty, but it was a fun adventure to dodge the cyclone to snap a photo! And maybe all that rain will see her grow even larger!

    It wasn’t all swings and roundabouts when I visited, however, because the playground was sadly closed for undisclosed reasons. Otherwise I would’ve been able to scurry up her stalk, peek through her windows, and have all sorts of fun-gus.

    Oh well, I found a nice toadstool to hunker down on as I admired this Big. A few curious shoppers asked me what I was doing, and I assured them I wasn’t stalking the Mushroom. To a person they agreed this is a mush-see tourist attraction!

    The Giant Mushroom was the star attraction Belco until 2011, when the Big Powerful Owl was installed just a few hundred metres away. The Big Acorns and Big Thorny Devil are also nearby. Oh, and it’s also a great place to meat for vegetarians (which is a joke that absolutely nobody who reads this will get).

    I could spend all day saying how much I love this ‘shroom, but don’t want to get mushy!

  • The Big Kissing Galahs, Watson, ACT

    The Big Kissing Galahs, Watson, Australian Capital Territory

    Love is in the air, everywhere in Canberra town
    Love is in the air, no native bird has a frown
    And I don’t know feather I’m being foolish
    Don’t know feather I’m being wise
    But Big Galah love’s something I believe in
    Beak-ause they’re making out in front of my eyes

    As a hopeless romantic who aches to discover love, the allure of Australia’s most passionate Big Things proved irresistible. The Big Kissing Galahs, on the northern outskirts of Canberra, are forever perched on the precipice of a tender pashing sesh. Will they, won’t they? With my heart racing and palms sweating, I had to find out!

    Unveiled at a galah event in 2013, the lascivious lovers were the passion project of artists Bev Hogg and Elizabeth Patterson. The Galahs mark the entrance to a modern planned community, and supposedly represent the concept of new families nesting in the area. Well, that’s better than the concept of new families pooing all over cars. Eight years on, their lust burns brighter than ever.

    Wearing a freshly-pressed tunic and festive hat, I approached the bawdy birds to see if there was room for me, cocka-too. I leant in to join the smooching session, as every bird in every tree in the world sung a symphony for this moment. Alas, as has happened so many times in my life, I was shunned by those I loved the most, and the shattered shards of my heart were scattered on the spring breeze.

    Coming up: More galah-rious jokes!

    Fortunately my alien chum Gordon Shumway was on hand to pick me up off the ground. Not only did he provide me with the consolation prize of a few quick pecks, but he later took me to Fyshwick so I could pick out some sparklers. Sure, they weren’t the fireworks I’d hoped to see, but it was a nice gesture.

    Oh well, maybe I’ll have better luck with the Big Kookaburra. Or Pete the Pelican. Or the Big Penguin. Or Stanley. Or the Big Parrot. Or the Big Chook. Or Chinute Chinute. Or even the Big Powerful Owl, who lives just down the road in Belconnen. There are plenty more birds in the sky!

    I visited the Galahs briefly on my way out of Canberra, and became ensconced in the sweet melancholy of what they have, and what I fear I shall never find. However, even though they crushed my soul, I’m happy for their happiness. If things go the way I think they will, expect some little Big Galahs in about nine months time!

    Please note: The incubation period for galahs is approximately 25 days, however I changed this to nine months for humorous effect. Also, it’s unlikely the Big Kissing Galahs will breed as a little birdie told me they’re both male… although he may have been a lyrebird.

  • The Big Pears, Parkes, ACT

    The Big Pears, Parkes, Australian Capital Territory

    Everything’s going pear-shaped in the nation’s capital, and that’s just how they like it! Please welcome this incom-pear-able bunch. Officially known as Pear (version No.2) despite there being seven of the fruity fellows, they were created by George Baldessin in 1973.

    The Pears rest enticingly at the entrance to the National Gallery of Australia, and appear to be scattered around as if as if displayed in a fruit bowl. Unsurprisingly famished art-lovers often attempt to eat them. Jokingly, I hope, because they’re made from steel that’s designed to rust into the brown colour of an Aussie pear.

    Each swollen sweetheart was first molded from polystyrene, before being cast in two halves, sliced horizontally. Once completed, they were skewered onto individual pipes that had been plunged into the cold Canberran dirt. It’s for the best, because there’s a 110 pear-cent chance someone would fruit-nap them otherwise.

    Whilst they were originally designed with leaves, these were never attached and currently reside within the gallery. I guess the artiste decided to they needed nothing but the pear necessities.

    Curiously, Baldessin was part of an art movement designed to resist the Americanisation of Aussie art. Our Big Things, as much as we hate to admit it, are directly influenced by similar structures in the US, so poor ol’ Georgie boy was in fact contributing to the one thing he hated more than anything else.

    The realisation must’ve been un-pear-able for him!

    As for the names of the individual bulging beauties? I asked several employees of the gallery, but was unable to establish the facts. Fortunately, an impish tough guy who was hanging out in the park informed me they’re named Pears Akerman, Pear Danes, Selma Pear, Peary Bickmore, Ric Pear and two members of pop rock group the Pear Naked Ladies.

    Although maybe he had simply succumbed to pear-pressure and was just after a cheap laugh.

  • The Big Coins, Deakin, ACT

    The Big Coins, Deakin, Australian Capital Territory

    Oh don’t mind me, I’m just hanging out with my good mate Fiddy Cent. No, not the hip hop luminary, which is a good thing because I don’t need to get into another gang turf war. I’m talking about the Big Coins, who currency live outside the Royal Australian Mint.

    The Coins certainly offer bang for your buck, because there are eight of them. The leftmost disc doesn’t count, because it simply signifies the year the Mint was opened – 1965. The rest represent each of Australia’s decimal coins, including the 1c and 2c pieces, which were discontinued in 1992. Hopefully they never change the lineup.

    I’m not going to mints my words – the resemblance to the real coins is uncanny. A quick look at the 2c, 20c and $1 coins brings memories of the Big Frilled Neck Lizard, Big Platypus and Big Kangaroo flooding back. You can bank on being impressed!

    The mint has produced more than 15 billion coins since opening, and is also a favourite excursion destination for Aussie schoolkids. After watching a thrilling documentary on the history of decimal currency, it’s possible to mint your own $1 coin for the bargain price of $3. Makes cents!

    A quick note, there aren’t any – teehee!