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!
A word of warning, this Big is a real gold digger!
Tall, dark and handsome, the Big Gold Panner Man sauntered into the historic inland city of Bathurst in 1979, taking up residence outside the lavish Gold Panner Motor Inn. He welcomes millions of visitors from Sydney each year, many of whom can barely pan-dle their excitement.
Not surprisingly, he’s become by far the most famous and celebrated thing about this bustling Gold Rush town, edging out the extraordinary Town Square and the fascinating Fossil and Mineral Museum.
But wait, there’s more! Big Thing lovers can actually tick two landmarks off their bucket list in one go, because the World’s Biggest Beard is also on display here!
That hasn’t helped him find gold, though, and after 42 years he’s yet to strike it lucky. But he has found the love and admiration of a nation, which is far more valuable than a precious yellow mineral.
Despite bending over to work with his impressively-realised mining equipment, the Big Gold Panner Man measures five metres from the bottom of his sturdy shoes to the top of his trendy hat. This makes him the second-tallest human Big in Australia after The King of Atlantis.
As one of the kindest and most respectful characters in the Land of the Bigs, this major miner proves all that glitters is gold – and there’s more than a nugget of truth to that!
Slip an extra Gordon on the barbie!
There was a brief moment of unpleasantness during my date with the Gold Panner, when he scooped Gordon into his skillet and threatened to fry him up for dinner. I know what you’re thinking – two big, tough, macho men marking their turf.
But, really, it was all Gordon’s fault. He was behaving in an antagonistic manner towards the Gold Panner and said his hat looked effeminate, so he had it coming.
Fortunately the kind-hearted giant let his much smaller rival get away, shaken but not stirred. You might not be so lucky next time, Gordon!
Tilly bounced her way into our hearts during the 1982 Commonwealth Games, taking centre stage at the opening ceremony in front of 50,000 enamoured fans. The cute kangaroo flirted with the crowd, winking her long lashes and swivelling her perfectly-proportioned head as a forklift flittered her around the track.
The world drew breath as one when the voluptuous Matilda lingered in front of the Duke of Edinburgh for an extended moment and their eyes locked. Time stood still as we hoped and dreamed that this most unlikely relationship might take its first, tentative steps.
The silence, however, was broken when dozens of excited kiddies dressed as joeys poured out of Matilda’s massive pouch and jumped around on trampolines as Rolf Harris belted out the timeless classic Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport. It was a moment no Australian will ever forget.
I was one of those joeys, and I’ve never felt as alive as I did whilst crouched in the belly of that 13-metre-tall marsupial. I cherish my grainy first photo with Tilly, and my memories of playing with Rolf’s wobble board. After that magical afternoon our lives took such different paths – Rolf as a much-loved singer, me as Australia’s foremost expert in Big Things, and Tilly as a hero to Queenslanders of all ages.
Bounding into retirement
Following the Games she took pride of place at Cade’s County Waterpark on the Gold Coast, where she kept a watchful eye over swimmers until being dismantled in the mid-2000s. She lay sad and alone in a field until 2009, when the happy chappies from Puma Energy resurrected her as the mascot for their new chain of service stations.
Though she originally hoped to live in Tugan on the Gold Coast’s glitter strip, Tilly settled for a quieter life in Kybong after planning approval fell through. It’s probably for the best, because I would’ve hated to see her with collagen lips and a fake tan!
Tilly’s just as beautiful as ever and is in a great location for photos and hugs. She’s an inspiration for other former parade floats such as Buffy and Pete, but the service station she called home until recently had been bypassed by the Bruce Highway and fallen into disrepair. On my recent visit, a dog chased me – and he wasn’t as friendly as his golden relative down south! Fortunately Tilly’s no stranger to a life on the road, and was recently roo-located to the new super servo along the road. Phew!
How much is that Tilly in the window?
I’m not sure whether there are any Matilda souvenirs at her new home, but you might be able to buy something much better. No, not a tea towel – a nine-metre-tall replica of the lovely kangaroo from Natureworks in Highvale, Queensland! Slightly slimmer than the busty original, she can also turn her head and wink. There were plans to place replica kangaroos at hundreds of Matilda service stations around the country, but financial strife scuttled that and only one was ever built. My birthday’s coming up, in case my admirers want to pitch in for a present…
Sexy, sassy, survivor. From packed stadiums to water slides to abandoned petrol stations, Matilda has lived a remarkable life with the sort of class and grace others can only dream of. She’s every bit as seductive as the day we fell in love with her 39 years ago, and I wish her much hoppy-ness in the future.
Please note; since writing this article, it’s been brought to my attention that Rolf Harris has been convicted of serious crimes and is currently incarcerated. Whilst I’ll always love his music and consider him to be a visionary, Matilda and I have decided to remove Rolf from our WhatsApp group.
Please note 2; apparently Rolf has died, so let’s all just move on.
Open the door, get on the floor Everybody walk with Digby the Dinosaur!
She might be 65 million years old, but this delightful dino is still a big kid at heart. Digby lives in Albury Botanic Gardens’ wonderfully-presented Children’s Garden and is more than happy to be kissed, cuddled and climbed upon. It’s safe to say she’s dinos-awfully popular!
Digby’s not as famous as her aunty Ploddy or as grand as her uncle Big Kev, but is every bit as remarkable. She’s immense yet adorable, vivacious yet shy, and incredibly unique. Oh, and those eyes are to die-nosaur for! You can find her hiding away in the trees, head to the ground to say hello to her friends.
For those who are overwhelmed by Bigs on this scale, Digby’s baby son Diego is playing blissfully nearby – and he’ll fill you with joy. There are also cubby houses, a fairy temple, and a terrifying troll cave that I was too much of a sissy to enter!
After a big morning of playing with Digby and Diego, why not head to the nearby World’s Biggest Rolling Pin for a sandwich at their dino… uh, I mean diner!
The Southern Highlands of New South Wales has Big Things apple-nty, but none are as scrumptious as this crimson cutie! The Big Apple is of epic proportions, astonishingly detailed – just look at his hyper-realistic leaf – and always in season!
Tallong legend Jim ‘The Apple Man’ Watling set the peels in motion in 1988. He commissioned a chap named Carl Zeschke to build a fitting tribute to the area’s vivacious agricultural industry. The Apple sat contentedly atop Jim’s shed for three decades, luring in customers to buy fresh fruit.
Not surprisingly, he became the apple of Jim’s eye!
It’s Tallong way to the top if you wanna Big Apple!
The healthy heartthrob was removed in 2017, presumably because it was impossible to get any work done with him around. Fortunately, he was soon popped on a pedestal in the sprawling Tallong Memorial Park. He was even provided with a canopy to keep him nice and dry. The grand unveiling was a Royal Gala event, with throngs of locals and several Pink Ladies in attendance.
He now takes pride of place plum in the middle of the rustic village, inspiring a new generation of Big Thing fanatics. There’s even a delightful playground for the kiddies to explore as Mum and Dad gaze in open-mouthed wonder at the Apple. What a perfect way to apple fritter away a an afternoon!
Things are not as peachy as they seem, however. The good people of Tallong are in a brutal dis-fruit with the residents of Yerrinbool, home to a rival Big Apple. Reminiscent of similar unrest between fans of the pear of Big Pineapples, the feud stems from the fact each community believes their Big is the one true Big Apple, and neither looks like they’ll crumble. Honestly, guys, make juice, not war! Hopefully continuing discussions between village elders will prove fruitful.
Roll out the red carpet, because we’re in the company of some Hollywood bad boys… Ribbet Redford and Dennis Hopper! The amphibian actors squat smugly out the front of the salubrious Ramada Suites, just a hop, skip and jump from Darwin’s waterfront.
Ribbet and Dennis spawned at the humorously-named Get Stoned Masonry, before re-croak-ating to their current spot when the shop shut. Their identical sisters – the brightly-coloured Sandra Bullfrog and Lillypad Allen – live down the toad at the Territory Wildlife Park in Berry Springs.
Their current site is an unassuming, but very accessible, home for two superstars. They’re surrounded by shrubs in a quiet street and Dennis, who’s looking worse for wear, has succulent flowers growing out of him. But don’t worry, I didn’t see any Easy Spiders crawling out!
Despite looking similar, the pair actually have very unique personalities. Ribbet – star of classics such as The Green Gatsby, Charlotte’s Webbed Feet and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Amphibian – is cool, carefree, and a bit of a showboat. Dennis, by comparison, is more intense and eccentric – as seen in his classics Blue Vel-wet and A-frog-alypse Now.
Both are worthy of a star on the Big Thing Walk of Fame, but are comfortable sharing the slime-light with their hunky cousin, Buffy the Big Cane Toad. They also enjoy staying up all night with their nocturnal neighbour, Chinute Chinute the Big Owl.
A quick ap-pond-ix; As I was photographing the frogs, Mr Redford made an Indecent Proposal – for me to climb atop him for a hoppy snap! I would’ve loved to spend more time with the long-tongued tough guys, but unfortunately I had other Kermit-ments.
Young is a prosperous inland city with a rich agricultural history, and having their very own Big is the cherry on top! This trio of tasty treats were unveiled in 1983 to rapturous applause, cementing Young’s reputation as the cherry capital of the world. If you’re cherry-picking your favourite Bigs, take a fruitful journey out to see them!
The red rascals hang daintily next to Young’s historic train station, which offers a small range of tea towels, postcards and magnets with the Cherries on them. Step off the platform and, before your cherry eyes, there they are – three wonderful, glorious cherries peering whimsically over the main street.
Whilst the monument gives our Bigs the reverence they deserve, I must be ‘that guy’ and take umbrage with the height of it. The Cherries are simply too elevated for a great happy snap, and it’s difficult to attain a true appreciation of their size. However, I’m willing to cherry the hatchet if the local council are willing to make them slightly easier to pick (and pan)!
If you want a wilder, more elusive cherry – and one who wears sunglasses almost as cool as mine! – why not join my quest to meet Victoria’s supercooool Big Cherry? He’s gone into hiding, as any great rockstar has, but with a little encouragement we can bring him back into the public eye.
In any case, don’t cherry your head in the sand, roll out to Young to eat, drink and be cherry. Thank you cherry much!
Sunglasses, cheeky grin, rockstar swagger. No, I’m not talking about myself, I’m describing the coolest cat in the Goulburn Valley, the legendary Big Cherry! The bright-red dude with ’tude has been breaking hearts for the past two decades, so I decided the time to meet this cherry was ripe!
As I researched the Cherry in my la-big-atory, I discovered that rumours of his current whereabouts abounded. Some said he’d moved to Byron Bay to become an influencer, others that he’d fled to South America to live with a giant tamarillo. I tracked him down to the Big Cherry Farm in splendid Wyuna, where he’s always been. Rumours of his travels have, apparently, been greatly exaggerated.
Tragically, upon arrival I discovered that the farm has been closed for several years due to water shortages, with the sunnies-sporting-sweetheart locked 100 metres down a driveway, behind a gate. I called out to whoever might be inhabiting the farm to let me in, but there was no response. Upon dialling the number on the sign out the front, I discovered it was disconnected. I yodelled towards the Big Cherry himself, in the desperate hope that he might roll towards me to say hello, but it wasn’t to be. He just sat there, back turned, smiling into the twilight.
Left cold and alone in rural Victoria, I took a forlorn photo with the sign out the front of the farm. To put it in perspective, it was like missing out on an Eagle-Eye Cherry concert due to a drunken stepfather and consoling yourself by listening to his acclaimed 1997 single Save Tonight on a Sony Discman.
A Cherry Nice Fellow Indeed
I was shattered that I was unable to meet the cherry, and disgusted with myself for letting you, his fans and admirers, down. My sincerest apologies, although I hope my encounter with the Big Fruit Bowl goes some way towards for it – I think there’s a cherry or two in there.
With tears in my eyes I raced across the border to spend time with the more wholesome cherries in Young as a consolation prize, but it just wasn’t the same. They don’t have the glasses, the style, or the devil-may-care demeanour that harkens back to a young Val Kilmer. Young’s Big Cherries might steal your heart, but they would never steal your girlfriend.
I won’t, however, give up on my dream to meet the Big Cherry – just look at those Reebok Pumps, he’s a regular Cherry-quille O’Neal! If you own the farm, know the owners, or have any other info or tips to help me in my quest to spend an afternoon with a really big piece of fruit, please contact me immediately. I’ll jump on my scooter and ride all night to have a lunch date with this spherical spunk if I have to. Trust me, if I get to meet Captain Cool, I’ll be cherry appreciative!
If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, the good people of the Southern Highlands mustn’t have seen a quack in years! The un-Bool-ievable snack is conveniently located just off the Hume Highway and is as fresh as the day it fell off the tree.
Despite being de-cider-edly larger than anything you’ll find at a green grocer, you’ll be disappointed if expecting something on the scale of the Big Melon, Big Banana or Big Pineapple. It’s still very apple-ing, though!
The beachball-sized Red Delicious poses pompously atop a quaint sign for the historic Tennessee Orchard, which until recently offered a mouthwatering array of fruit, veggies, marmalades, jams, chutneys and eggs. Tragically the farm is currently closed, after being core-t in a freak hail storm a few years ago.
This Big Apple is just one of nearly a dozen variations spread around Australia – in fact, there’s another less than an hour down the road at Tallong, and the two fanbases have developed a heated rivalry. You’ll have to visit them all to see which one’s the pick of the bunch!
Roll up, roll up, because I want to introduce you to the largest, most-in-charge-est rolling pin you’ll ever see. She’s 14-metres-long, weighs more than two tonnes, and looms large over the famous Henri’s Wodonga Bakery. You definitely knead to see the World’s Biggest Rolling Pin!
The larger-than-loaf pin was installed in 1992, in what has been described as Wodonga’s finest flour. The good people at Guinness World Records rushed to pop this Victorian icon atop hotly-contested Biggest Rolling Pin category. Apparently it can roll, but was completely stationary when I turned up to admire it, but I guess you can’t spin ’em all.
Although it lacks the wow-factor of other giant utensils such as Grenfell’s Big Gold Pick and Pan or Kew’s Big Axe – and isn’t as huggable as the nearby Digby the Dinosaur – it’s the sort of Big that really gets under your scone after a while and proves to be a to-pie-for experience.
The sprawling bakery beneath the cylindrical superstar offers a mouthwatering array of sausage rolls, cakes, burgers, juices and sourdough bread. The perky pinheads percolating within are particularly pleasant, al-dough I do have one complaint – no Rolling Pin souvenirs! I would’ve loved a miniature version of the World’s Largest Rolling Pin. Alas, I will never be able to find such a thing.
All-in-all, it’s worth baking the effort to visit the World’s Biggest Rolling Pin!
I’m a lumberjack and I’m OK I sleep all night and visit Bigs all day!
Axe yourself this – how much excitement can you handle? If the answer is ‘plenty’, then swing by this towering tool and get ready to chop till you drop!
A fixture of the exquisite Camden Haven district since 1979, the wonderful whacker celebrates the local timber industry and rests happily beside the iKew Visitor Information Centre. He was replaced in 2002 after famished termites did a real hatchet job on him, but when I stopped by in 2015 he was in a poor state once again. Trust me, I had an axe to grind with those responsible!
Sadly, the centre also suffered from a severe lack of Big Axe memorabilia. I carefully explained to the kind woman behind the counter that it was a missed opportunity, and that I would return in several years to reassess the situation.
I’m thrilled to say the Axe’s splinter of discontent is over! The Big Axe was completely rebuilt by cleaver members of the Kendall Men’s Shed, and the natives were Kew-ing up when it was unveiled in 2017. The 800kg tomahawk now rests on supports that are two metres shorter than the old ones, making happy snaps a little easier.
A magnetic attraction
Best of all, Brazilian Big Thing guru Bebezinga Grande and I were elated to discover the Visitor Centre now offers not one but two Big Axe magnets. The gentlemen in attendance thanked me for my dedication to the cause, and those magnets have now become a sought-after home decorating accessory in South America.
The chop-ularity of the Big Axe has even led to a replica in Western Sydney. Alright, they’re not axe-actly the same, but they’re close enough.
Whilst the Pacific Highway bypassed Kew years ago, this Big can be reached with a short detour on your way north towards the Big Golden Dog or south to the Big Oyster. The volunteers at the Visitor Centre are always up for a chat, so make sure you don’t axe-dentally pass it by!
Football, meat pies, kangaroos and the Big Banana. This prodigious plantain has grown to become a huge part of Australia’s national identity. He represents this great country’s culture and history, hopes and dreams. Every child holds fond memories of popping into the Banana on a road trip up north, having their photo snapped in front of the Coffs Harbour icon, and then smashing into a delicious chocolate-covered frozen banana at the adjoining cafe.
This is Australia, distilled to her essence and molded into one 13-metre-long potassium-powered Big Thing.
The Big Banana sits proudly above the Pacific Highway and is unmissable as you drive past. He’s massive, bright, and exquisitely crafted. The friendly fruit is also perfectly positioned for a photo (as the long lines prove!) and is large enough to walk through. The small yet absolutely fascinating agricultural exhibit inside is unmissable.
If you feel like monkeying around, the Banana-themed fun park really Caven-dishes up the thrills! Peel off your clothes at the water park, spend an elongated afternoon at the putt-putt golf, or take on the terrifying toboggan ride, which is suitable for both men and lady-fingers.
For those who flat out refuse to eat anything that’s not yellow, there’s a mouthwatering cheesemaking workshop. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, head to the cafe for a banana split (fortunately they’re available seven days a week, not just on sundaes). Unfortunately I’m no longer able to enjoy this delicious treat due to an unfortunate incident during my childhood – but don’t let that stop you from tucking in!
Australia goes bananas!
Banana salesman John Landi dreamed up the yellow fellow in 1964, to get tourists to stop by his fruit stand. After hiring – and subsequently firing – a local youth to dress as a gorilla and dance for traffic, he heard word of a pineapple of epic proportions that was doing a roaring trade in Hawaii. The time was ripe to jump on the Big Thing bandwagon, so he tapped engineer Alan Chapman and builder Alan Harvey to make it happen. It had to B1 of the best decisions ever!
Construction ran smoothly and the Big Banana opened a year after Australia’s first giant roadside attraction, North Gosford’s Ploddy the Dinosaur, snarled his way into our hearts in 1963. That hasn’t prevented the Banana’s owners from falsely promoting him as the original Big Thing – but that’s a bunch of lies!
Success was immediate, with Bananarama taking over Australia, and the plantation was greatly expanded to cover most of the surrounding hillside area. Giant produce, such as the original Big Pineapple and the Bilpin Fruit Bowl, popped up around the country in tribute. The profile of the ‘King of the Bigs’ exploded, culminating in a massive period of growth in the late-80s, when a whole bunch of exciting attractions were brought in from the recent Expo ’88 in Brisbane. There was even a train ride with a terrifying bunyip, which I particularly enjoyed as a young chap!
The Banana goes rotten!
The Big Banana was hailed as Australia’s Big Yellow Smile and became more famous than the Great Barrier Reef and the Sydney Opera House combined. But things were about to get rotten for vitamin-fuelled lothario. A few bad business decisions and a general perception that Big Things weren’t cool anymore (they always were and always will be, of course) led to the massive decline of the park.
A number of the attractions were sold off – including the poor bunyip – and the Banana was left to wilt in the hot North Coast sun. Like the Big Pineapple and the Big Prawn, it seemed like this decaying delicacy had passed its best-before date.
Proving miracles do happen, some more investment came in, the park was expanded again, and the Big Banana was given a new lease on life. The Banana has returned to its rightful place as one of the world’s greatest tourist attractions, on par with Disneyland and Machu Picchu, and no Australian child shall ever go without a visit to this humongous health food. Raise your chocolate-coated frozen bananas high in the air, as we toast the beating heart of Australian society.
Long before the age of Bananas, Penguins, Pineapples and Prawns, an enormous concrete dinosaur watched over Australia’s highways. Ploddy, the oldest of her kind and the grandmother of the Bigs, was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.
With her timeless beauty and vivacious personality she ushered in the era of massive roadside attractions, becoming a national celebrity in the process. However, like the ancient thunder lizards she was modelled after, extinction is on the horizon for this gentle giant.
Despite her proud history, this folk hero has been abandoned in the bush, locked away behind a gnarled barbed-wire fence and left to rot. It’s a tragic and shameful situation for the mellow yellow lady, who’s terribly lonely out there in the wilderness.
This, dear readers, is the tragic tale of Ploddy the Dinosaur.
Do-you-think-she-saurus?
Ploddy’s epic story begins in the halcyon days of 1963, when hair was long and short-shorts were super short. Eric Worrell, owner of the popular Australian Reptile Park in Wyoming, New South Wales, was looking for a way to draw in more visitors from the Pacific Highway – and the common worm-skinks just weren’t doing the job. That’s when he had a BIG IDEA.
What if he built a life-size dinosaur and plonked it out by the main road? The plan was as preposterous as it was brilliant. Although Grrrreta the Grrrreat Big Dinosaur was wowing the crowds over in America, nothing of the sort had ever been attempted in this country. Undeterred, Eric and his chums got to work, largely making it up as they went.
The project took just two months for Eric’s talented team, including designer Ken Mayfield and construction engineer Jim Sullivan, to complete. Not bad for a diplodo-custom made dinosaur!
At 26-metres-long and weighing 100 tonnes, Ploddy was unlike anything the good people of the Central Coast seen before. She ushered in a new era of prosperity to the park, drawing in tens of thousands of curious onlookers who just wanted to say ‘allo-saurus to the Central Coast’s largest resident.
Ploddy was the first Big Thing Aussie’s ever dino-saw. So why is she so close to being wiped off the face of the planet?
Plodding into our hearts
The inimitable Bigs Bardot moved into the adjacent caravan park with his family in the mid-80s, and it was love at first sight – even though I was a little intimidated by Ploddy at first. Whenever things became too brutal in the trailer, I’d sneak over to see my massive mate. As I nestled into her serpentine neck, everything seemed right in the world.
In those days she was easily accessible and it was even possible to climb on top of or inside her, and she was always willing to listen to my problems. Ploddy told me there was a vast world out there, full of giant icons just like her. I promised her that I would visit every single one of her friends, and I take that vow seriously.
Ploddy was something of a chameleon, changing colours often, and as a rebellious youth I would dye my hair to match. We were inseparable, so I was understandably heartbroken when she took me aside one windswept day in 1994 to let me know she was moving away forever.
After 33 years in Wyoming, the Reptile Park’s new owners, John and Robyn Weigel, were taking the cold-blooded cutie and the rest of the reptiles to a new location at Somersby. It took two years to fossil-itate, and I spent as much time with Ploddy as I could, but things weren’t the same. A sadness hung over our rendezvous, and I even flirted with other Bigs such as the Merino, Oyster, and the man who would go on to become the other great love of my life, The Big Avocado.
What can I say? I was just love Jura-sick!
Movin’ on up
When Ploddy finally made her move on a stormy day in 1996, thousands of people lined the streets of Gosford to bid her farewell. I was in tears, not only to lose my best chum, but because they cut Ploddy’s poor feet and tail off to remove her from the concrete platform she guarded for so many years. It took Gosford’s largest crane to place her onto Gosford’s largest truck, and I marched proudly, but with a heavy heart, alongside her through the adoring crowds.
It was the greatest party Gosford had ever seen but, once the celebrations faded away, the tragedy of Ploddy’s situation became apparent. She wasn’t planted at the entrance of the new Reptile Park; that honour was bestowed upon Frilly the Lizard, with Ploddy tossed into a dusty clearing several hundred metres away.
She could watch the cars zip by on the new Pacific Highway, of course, but her friends had no real way of getting up close and personal with her. Ploddy was no longer able to serve her purpose as a Big Thing – she was a glorified billboard, locked away behind a fence and at the mercy of the elements. When the wind blew just right on a clear night, I could hear her weeping all the way from Wyoming.
Perhaps, I thought, she could also hear my cries.
The Lizard of Oz
Ploddy’s the oldest of the Big Things, an important part of Australia’s history and culture, and for her to be treated like this is nothing short of disgraceful. Whilst the Big Banana, Big Boxing Crocodile and even Ploddy’s little brother Big Kev and niece Digby have people lined up to take photos with them, pouring millions of dollars into their local communities, this grand old dame of roadside attractions has been cast aside, with only a few hardy souls visiting her. It’s outrageous and the good folks at the Australian Reptile Park need to do something about it.
Mercifully it’s still possible to see Ploddy, if you’re up for an adventure. The best way is to park by the side of the Old Pacific Highway at Somersby and locate the steep, overgrown path heading north towards the sizeable sauropod.
It’s not for the faint of heart, small children or the elderly, but those who brave the 100-metre climb will be rewarded by a meeting with the graceful Queen of the Bigs. It’s a bit like visiting my stepdad Craig in jail, though, due to the chainlink fence and the sour stench of desperation.
Until then, Ploddy’s true friends will visit her, chat to her, reassure her that everything will be OK. We’ll hold back the tears and pretend to believe our words, then fall apart as we walk away. This site, my life, and the passion that beats through the heart of every Big-thusiast, exist because of the incomparable Ploddy the Big Dinosaur. My first love, my purest love.
Everyone fantasises about spending a luxurious evening inside a Big Thing. The only place you can do that is in the remote Northern Australian village of Jabiru. Deep in the heart of the mystical Kakadu National Park you’ll find the senses-shattering Crocodile Hotel. At 250 metres long and 30 metres wide, he’s earned a reptile-tation as the most massive Big in this sunburnt country.
Being the size of a city block means this green machine is difficult to photograph – unless you have a drone, you’ll have to settle for a happy snap of his eye, shoulder or a part of his tail. Despite being a lovely chap and a perfect gentleman whilst entertaining guests, the Croc also likes to put on a bad boy veneer at night, when his eyes glow a spooky red. But don’t be frightened, like a leather jacket-wearing biker in a 50s movie, he has a heart of gold when you get to know him.
He’s very big Dundee-d
‘The Croc’, as the locals imaginatively named him, opened his ginormous jaws for business in 1988, following the worldwide success of the classic Aussie film Crocodile Dundee. Soon his belly was filled by a constant stream of loud-mouthed Americans in even louder Hawaiian shirts, saying, “that’s not a knife” in cockney accents, many of whom proceeded to wander off into the wilderness and get eaten by real-life crocodiles. With international travel temporarily stilted, I was fortunate enough to be offered a complimentary night at the hotel, thanks to my role as Australia’s Big Thing ambassador.
After a number of delectable crock-tails at the bar, I was treated to a tasting platter of authentic bush tucker, featuring buffalo, kangaroo, possum and, of course, crocodile. A tsunami of shame and guilt washed over me as I nibbled on The Croc’s relatives, but I couldn’t stop – it was just too delicious!
The rooms are spacious and far more comfortable than spending an evening inside a real reptile, which I imagine would be most unpleasant. I suffer from quite serious night terrors, and I can’t begin to explain how comforting it was to be shaken from a particularly horrifying dreamscape to find myself safely ensconced within the belly of a Big. It was like returning to the womb.
In a region with more Big Lizards than you can shake a didgeridoo at – including the Big Boxing Crocodile, Keith the Crocodile, George and the Giant Jumping Crocodile, the Croc Hotel beggars belief with his scales… I mean his scale! He makes the perfect base for a once-in-a-lifetime journey through Kakudu but be warned – at the Hotel Crocodilia, you can check out any time you like, but your heart can never leave!
He was a bad boy with a heart of gold from the wrong side of the Adelaide River. I was a fresh-faced Big Thing enthusiast discovering myself in the wild Australian outback. Together we found love and the forbidden art of the samba. This is Dirty Water Dancing.
They say you should never smile at a crocodile. But I challenge you to look at this happy little face without croc-ing a grin! This groovy dude is one of the most joyous Bigs you’ll ever see, and has been boogying non-stop outside The Original Adelaide River Queen Jumping Crocodile Cruises headquarters since 1984.
He lives by the banks of the murky Adelaide River, which I don’t advise you to take a dip in, unless you’d like to become the lunch of a not-so-friendly real-life croc! Better to join a sensibly-priced jumping crocodile tour and then enjoy some light refreshments at the adjoining cafe. You can also say hello to Wak Wak’s other Big Crocodile as you munch on a scrumptious chocolate brownie.
Yet another oversized lizard, the world famous Big Boxing Crocodile, lives just 20 minutes down the road at Humpty Doo, and the Croc Hotel is only a couple of hours away, making this the undisputed modern-day-dinosaur roadside attraction capital of the world (they should put that on a tea towel). You know you’ll visit sooner or alligator, so head along to the Giant Jumping Croc… and make it snappy!
For those who believe the Giant Jumping Crocodile is a little too wacky, there’s a more realistic, down-to-earth, version just a short sinusoidal stagger away. He lives in the courtyard of the Original River Queen Jumping Crocodile Tours cafe and is an unassuming monster who shuns the limelight.
Nobody at the cafe knows who built him or when (I’d guess mid-to-late 80s), or even his name, so I call him Keith. It’s a shame because the design and workmanship are delightful – he looks enough like a real beastie to stop famished families in their tracks, but has enough character and charm to ensure everyone leaves a slice of their heart behind when they say goodbye.
He’s big, too – 10 metres long at least, which makes him the largest, if not the most famous, croc in Wak Wak. They’re both outsized by the legendary Big Boxing Crocodile in Humpty Doo, Darwin’s George the Croc and the massive, awe-inspiring Crocodile Hotel in Jabiru, though. There’s capacious competition for king-sized crocodilians in the Northern Territory (and let’s not forget the Big Crocodile in Somersby, NSW).
As I was snapping my photos, a local wag tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the chain attaching the smiling saltie to the ground. “Bigs,” he told me, cackling into the tropical twilight. “It’s to stop him from running away. “I found it so amusing that I couldn’t wipe the smile off my ‘dile for days!
Alas, my time with Keith came to an end too soon, and we embraced as I told him I was off to see other Big Things. A little insensitive, sure, but I didn’t expect him to bite my head off about it!
There’s only one place where you can snap up a sensibly-priced socket set, swallow a scrumptious sausage sandwich, and sequester yourself back 65 million years to the age of the sauropods – and that’s Bunnings Palmerston. It’s home to Big Kev the brachiosaurus and trust me, he’s excited!
Kev is absolutely massive, to the point it can be difficult to snap a good photo with him without his head disappearing out of the frame. Fortunately, a smiling team member at the adjacent hardware store was only too happy to help out with my shoot, suggesting poses and really bringing Kev’s cheeky personality to the forefront.
A future Helmut Newton, perhaps?
Tall, dark and oh-so-handsome
At 18 metres high, Kev’s one of the tallest Bigs around, towering over the nearby Lefty the Big Pink Buffalo. He’s also one of the most handsome, because the attention to detail on his robust physique is extraordinary. He ‘saured into Finlay’s Stone Masonry shop in 2007, having been designed and built by an Asian wonderkind who specialises in crafting oversized creatures for theme parks.
Store owner and Big Thing tragic Tom Finlay even made sure the beautiful beastie was cyclone-proof, so he would last for thousands of years. Despite initial opposition from locals, Kev’s gorgeous grin and calm disposition won them over, and he became a beacon of hope for the town.
But, just like in the Academy Award-winning film Jurassic Park and its poorly-received sequels, things were about to go crazy for this sky-high stud. Bunnings Warehouse bought the Finlay’s site and busted the big bopper into pieces in 2019, leaving him as broken and shattered as the hearts of the people of Palmerston.
There he lay for more than a year, with the Territory’s red dirt entombing him. Hope was lost, crime rates soared, and it seemed as if Kev’s older sister, Ploddy, and his bashful niece Digby, would be left to mourn his passing.
Dinosauring back into our hearts
But that would be underestimating the passion of Palmerstonians. They took to the streets, signed petitions, and threatened violence if Kev wasn’t resurrected. Bunnings, who have a history of bringing decaying Bigs back to life, listened. When their new store was completed in 2020, Kev was placed proudly at the entrance. It took several days, but the energetic boys from local construction company Sunbuild did a fabulous job.
Kev welcomes every happy shopper who drives into the spacious, undercover car park, pointing them towards the bargains to be found inside – perhaps he grabbed some tips from the Big Prawn and the Big Merino, who also help out at Bunnings? Grubby tradies and soccer mums join together to take happy snaps with him. Palmerston is now one of the safest, happiest, towns on the planet. All because of Kev, the barnstorming brachiosaurus who defied extinction to bring love and hope to a generation.
On a related note, I think he’d look great with a top hat on his head! Let’s make it happen!
He might be modeled after the most brutal, bloodthirsty bushranger in Aussie history, but the only thing the Big Ned Kelly is going to steal is your heart! The six-metre-tall buckethead prefers taking photos to taking hostages, but is still very much on the most wanted list of anyone travelling through rural Victoria!
The original, smaller, nastier Ned became a national hero during the 1800s, as he pranced around robbing stagecoaches and slaughtering policemen with a glorified garbage bin on his head. He was finally shot and arrested in the remote village of Glenrowan in mid-1880, and hanged later that year, but his legend has continued to grow. It certainly is odd to have a Big designed after a hate-filled murderer – I can’t see Ivan Milat getting one any time soon – but the big guy is very welcoming of visitors.
Bucketloads of Big Bushrangers
Glenrowan has become a Mecca for Ned-Heads, so it’s no surprise there’s actually been three Big Bushrangers banged up over the years. The first, constructed in 1980, was stolen by a group of street toughs and dumped in a nearby river – a sad, if somewhat appropriate end. The second lives inside the Glenrowan Tourist Centre and can only be seen for a fee. Ah, Ned, pinching money from the public once again!
The current version took over the town in 1992, and was built by Sydney special effects guru Kevin Thomas. He weighs a zaftig 1.5 tonnes, cost $12,000, and it would be a crime not to visit him. Being so large means it must be difficult for Ned to find shoes that fit comfortably – so perhaps he could visit The Big Shoe, which is just down the road at Frankston?
He’s not the only king-sized Kelly around, though, because he has an almost identical twin brother up in Maryborough, Queensland. Ol’ Ned never went within a few thousand kilometres of the Banana State, so this version wins the award for authenticity. As an added bonus, you can have your photo taken with this Ned and then brag to your chums that you went to Maryborough – how wonderful!
Glenrowan is home to a number of shops selling Ned Kelly memorabilia, and the prices are reasonable so it’s not highway robbery. There’s an educational trail that rambles around the town’s historical sites, and you’ll have the crime of your life gaining insight into Ned’s last stand. The Glenrowan Hotel, which is right next door to where Ned was taken down, is a pleasant pub where the only shots to be found these days are served by the barman.
Ned’s last stand
Descendants of Kelly’s victims have campaigned for years to tear down the statue – and his twin in Maryborough – as they stir up terrible memories of family members being gunned down in cold blood. I say grow up! A pelican stole my donut back in 1987 and I stepped in some dog poo-poo last week, but you don’t see me trying to cancel their respective statues.
They say you should never judge a book by its cover; well, you should never judge a Big Thing by the fact he’s wearing a terrifying metal suit and carrying a shotgun. Ned’s one of the largest men I’ve ever been with, and a bad boy with a heart of gold. Nobody should have to twist your armour to go see him!
“There was an old woman who lived in the Big Shoe. Which had many admirers, most notably you The colossal clog has big, fluffy laces And through the windows peer happy little faces”
Diehard Big Thing aficionados dream of living inside a giant roadside attraction, and there are few cosier homes than this giant jogger. Sure, it’s a little rundown, but it has lovely feet-ure windows and boot-iful views of the Mooraduc Highway, so I have a sneaker-ing suspicion you’ll agree it’s prime heel estate!
The Big Shoe set tongues wagging in 1967, when the Bata Shoe Company unveiled it as a float for the Frankston Australia Day parade. Apparently Beta’s managing director, a Mr Gordon Thring and his nephew Roger snoozed in the sandal the night before, to ward off any ill-tempered thugs who might attempt to damage their creation.
The float was such a hit that it was a walk-up start in parades across Victoria for a number of years, before slipper-ing off into retirement at Two Bays Garden Supplies. It’s a festive history reminiscent of Pete the Pelican, Matilda, Lefty and Buffy the Cane Toad; unfortunately this story doesn’t have such a happy ending. It’s sat neglected for decades, and is currently in a sad state of disrepair. It’s a tragic end for a local icon that’s been on so many adventures. The Big Shoe is in desperate need of a cobbler, but nobody wants to foot the bill.
Whilst not as grand as Thornton’s Ugg Boots, these cleats are full of character and are a fun throw-back to the swingin’ sixties. It’s certainly worth making a thong and dance about. Groovy, dude!
My companion on this trip, Frankston-born singer-songwriter Scott Cairns, has many wonderful attributes but unfortunately has little appreciation for large roadside attractions. Imagine my surprise, then, when he was moved to tears as he recalled riding the Big Shoe during the 1969 parade. It was then that I realised just how much this icon means to the people of the Mornington Peninsula – it really is the heart and sole of the place.
Wanguri schoolkids all know the three Rs – reading, ‘riting, and really big fish! They’re fortunate enough to have this behemoth barra swimming around the lovingly-maintained grounds of their a-cod-amy, providing lessons in largeness every little lunch. As you can see, she certainly makes the grade and has become a valuable member of the educ-ocean-al community!
Of course, being located within the grounds of Wanguri Primary School (motto: ‘Hooked On Learning’), in Darwin’s northern suburbs, means she can only be admired by the general public through an imposing fence. Well, unless you’re willing to risk a large fine and a good chasing from the on-site security. But lose that sinking feeling, because she’s fairly close the the barra-cade and assures me she’s happy with her home, as it allows her to introduce a new generation to the wonder of the Bigs. What a class act!
Just another manic ‘mundi
The barramundi was chosen to honour the local indigenous Larrakia and Wangurri people, and the tile patterns were designed by a group of particularly artistic students. The terrifically talented Techy Masero – the Big Thing luminary behind Colin the Turtle and George the Croc – built her out of steel and cement in 2009, but was unable to complete the intricate tile work due to reasons that have been lost to time. Thankfully the locals banded together to complete this aquatic cutie, and the Big Barramundi was o-fish-ially unveiled in 2010.
This Big Barramundi is a little snazzier than her cousin in Katherine, but smaller than other ‘mundis in Normanton and Daintree, Queensland. The mosaic artistry certainly deserves an A+, but this fish only gets a sea-plus when it comes to originality.
Poor old Bigs was bullied mercilessly in my school years, not only by my fellow pupils but by some of the crueler members of the teaching faculty, so I rarely attended classes. However, if Principal Van Beek had been thoughtful enough to welcome a Big Thing into the grounds, I wouldn’t have missed a moment. Oh well, one can only dream of being part of a school of giant fish…
Nothing warms the heart like a shiny new Big sprouting out of nowhere, so imagine my joy when the Big Melon was unveiled in Chinchilla one slice day in 2019. And water specimen she is!
At nine metres long, three metres high and weighing four tonnes she certainly has the size to impress, but it’s the craftsmanship and attention to detail that makes this pink-and-green dream stand out. Seedless to say, I could write a power salad about her beauty!
Big-thusiasts have Wotif to thank for this thriller in Chinchilla, because the travel website launched a nationwide competition to find – and fund – our next incredible roadside attraction. Thousands of suggestions poured in, including the Big Box Jellyfish in Darwin and the Big Sausage Roll in Wyong.
Melons of votes from Big Thing zealots saw the Melon emerge victorious over the Big Kilt in Glen Innes, Big Tulip in Mittagong and the Big Peanut in Kingaroy. She really did leave the competition green with envy!
Whilst I believe the good people of Australia made the right decision, my soul weeps for those who came so close to having a Big to call their own. I hope the heartbroken residents of these towns don’t give up on their dreams. Until then they can visit other giants fruits such as the Big Banana, Big Pineapple and Big Fruit Bowl for a delicious treat!
She really is one in a melon!
The only negatives to the watermelon – apart from not being able to tuck into her perky pink bits! – are due to her location. She runs parallel to a straight section of the Warrego Highway, meaning that it’s difficult to achieve a full appreciation of its superb size without stopping.
That brings us to the other problem – it sits happily next to the local Visitor Information Centre, which has far too little parking for an attraction like the Melon. But I guess I’m just fruit picking… I mean nitpicking!
Chinchilla, 300km west of Brisbane, is the undisputed melon capital of Australia (although Gumlu, home of the original Big Watermelon, might argue that point), and is home to the wildly pip-ular annual MelonFest. The Melon’s opening ceremony was one of the biggest days in Chinchilla’s robust history, and I was fortunate enough to be the guest of honour.
After delivering a brief yet inspirational speech that was met with rapturous applause, my face went redder than the Melon’s juicy flesh when mayor and self-confessed Big tragic Paul McVeigh took to the stage with tears in his eyes, “Bigs, you’re the best friend Australia’s Big Things have ever had.”
What an abso-fruit-ly wonderful thing to be called!
Next time you’re cray-ving a succulent seafood sandwich whilst driving along the Bruce Highway, nip in to the Shell service station at Miriam Vale. Not only will you encounter the most sensational food in the Gladstone region, but you can get up claws and personal with the lovable Big Crab!
He’s around two-metres wide and hasn’t scuttled off the roof of the servo since arriving in 1979, because he’s a bit of a hermit. But don’t worry, he doesn’t swear much and is certainly not a crass-tacean! Honestly, I still have to pinch myself to realise my encounter with this Big wasn’t just a dream!
Compared to other sea-dwelling Bigs such as Taree’s outrageously oversized Oyster and the colossal Croc Hotel, this side-strolling stud doesn’t impress with his size, and being on the roof means he can be a menace to take a cheeky selfie with.
Cars kept rolling into the service station as I posed with the snappy chappy, but the drivers invariably smiled and nodded, obviously understanding the majesty and wonder of this particular roadside attraction.
“That giant crab and your sparkling smile are enough to make me forget about the spiralling price of fuel,” one gruff farmer screamed as he peeled out of the car park. I had similar positive responses when I posed with a similar crustacean in San Francisco. I guess it’s hard to be crabby around a Big Thing!
Crabsolutely Fabulous
Former owner of the petrol station, Lex Milner, crafted the colossal cutie to draw attention to his impressive range of home-made crab sandwiches. The delightful Allan and Judy Taylor adopted the amazing arthropod more than two decades ago and still watch their mouthwatering delicacies scurry out the door to this day.
I indulged in one of these irresistible treats and I can tell you there’s nothing fishy about them. I did feel a little guilty tucking into one of the Big Crab’s relatives in front of him, but he’s got a hard shell and didn’t seem too bothered by it.
Aussies are berry much in love with giant fruits, with the Big Banana, Big Melon, Big Pineapple and Big Mango currant-ly amongst the country’s most popular roadside attractions. Consider Bilpin’s Big Fruit Bowl to be a sort of grap-est hits collection, with a wide variety of fresh produce all in one place, and some sub-lime sculpting skills on display.
Despite looking a little tired and in need of a lick of paint, the Bilpin Fruit Bowl is exquisitely designed, detailed, and easy to take a photo with. At two metres tall it’s big enough to take one’s breath away, without being too large to appreciate the finer features. Whilst I visited alone, I can imagine it would be a wonderful place to take a date.
The Big Fruit Bowl is plum by the side of the main road as you cross the Blue-berry Mountains. The adjacent fruit shop and the sprawling peach, apple and nectarine fields behind it have been owned and operated by the Tadrosse family since 1985, and this Big Thing sprouted around that time. It’s possible to pick your own fruit on a weekend – the perfect souvenir of a delicious day out.
And then one grapeful day…
Tragedy struck in 2019, when ferocious bushfires roared through the region and destroyed a large portion of the Fruit Bowl’s farmland. More than 6000 fruit trees were razed, causing more than $3 million damage. The Bilpin Fruit bow, thankfully, was saved from a flaming fate. Small mercies, big fruit!
This fruity bunch are a great part of history, located in a beautiful village surrounded by natural wonders. It’s possible to go hiking, camping and traipsing through award-winning gardens in a single afternoon. The local cider is particularly enjoyable. The apple and strawberry variety will bowl you over, and there are non-alcoholic options for the kiddies.
Pull up a chair, citrus in the shade, and admire Bilpin’s Big Fruit Bowl!
After herring rumours of a big fish in Manilla – the lovely country town half-an-hour from Tamworth’s Big Golden Guitar, not the capital of The Philippines – I was hooked on the idea of tracking it down. After taking some time to mullet over, I headed out there, and am happy to say that it reely was worth it. In fact, standing next to this fishface, with his delightful top hat and cane, we both felt a little underdressed!
Details of when the Big Fish was constructed are a bit fin on the ground. Locals de-bait when he first swam into Manilla. All I know is that he’s an impressive seven metres tall, and goofy-looking enough to splash his way into anyone’s heart. Despite being the same species, he’s about as different from St George’s modern and artistic Murray the Cod, Tocumwal’s historic Cod, or Darwin’s whimsical Big Barramundi, as you can imagine.
The giant groper stands proudly outside the Big Fish Roadhouse in the middle of town, which is sadly closed these days. We didn’t go hungry, though, because Manilla boasts a generous selection of restaurants, pubs and clubs, and we were feeling a little green around the gills after stuffing ourselves with delicious food at the Royal Hotel!
Manilla’s also home to an historic Chinese cemetery, a delightful campground by the Namoi River, and one of the world’s most famous paragliding launches. All in all, it was a good excuse to get trout and about, and the day went swimmingly. I fish I had more time to spend with my new mate, but was very pleased with the happy snapper I took!
If imitation is indeed the sincerest form of flattery, the original Big Pineapple must have an ego even bigger than he is! This North Coast icon has spawned spiky spin-offs around the world, from Woombye and Gympie in Queensland to Bathurst in South Africa, but to many he’s still the most scrumptious tropical treat.
At a modest four metres from supple bottom to prickly top, the Ballina Pineapple is outsized by his imitators. He’s a quirky throwback to a gentler time – like Gumlu’s Big Watermelon, which is dwarfed by Chinchilla’s Big Melon. He’s certainly not lonely, with his disciples often stopping by for a photo. His best mate, the Big Prawn, also lives right down the road. Maybe they should change the name of the town to Ba-large-na!
Little is known about the age of the Pineapple, or who built him. Most locals believe he’s been sitting outside the BP service station since the beginning of time. It would be easy to fritter away an afternoon speculating on when he was built. Ultimately, however, it would ultimately be a fruit-ile endeavour. I definitely don’t remember a time when my spherical chum wasn’t a focal point of any trip up north!
There’s just enough space to squeeze inside the juicy giant. It’s even possible to pop your cheery little face out the window for a memorable photo. Just look how happy my Brazilian companion Bebezinha Grande was to meet him! Abaca-she had the time of her life!
All in all, the Big Pineapple makes for a pine day out!
Have you herd about the world’s largest farm animal? Don’t be sheepish, visit the ewe-mungous Big Merino today! At 15.2m high, 18m long and weighing more than 100 tonnes, you’ll be amazed by the shear size of this gentle giant, who features p-ruminant-ly on the Goulburn landscape.
The Big Merino is the brainchild of Big Thing luminaries Louis and Attila Mokany, who were also behind Taree’s outrageous Oyster and Ballina’s prodigious Prawn. Designed by Gary Dutallis and built by Glenn Senner, the project took around six months to com-bleat.
The woolly wonder came ram-paging into town in 1985, with hundreds of thousands of tourists c-lamb-ering to see him. Along with a gift shop and a museum dedicated to the region’s wool industry tucked away inside his belly, our mammoth mate’s eyes provided a wonderful view out over Goulburn’s verdant fields.
I still remember the first time I met this friendly farm animal – it was love at first sight because I’d never seen a roadside attraction on such a scale, or with so many incredible details. He looks like he’s about to wander off into the wilderness at any moment!
Q: Where does the Big Merino get his wool cut? A: At the baa-baa!
His legion of fanciers came to know him as Rambo but don’t worry. Unlike his action film namesake, he has a calm disposition and is highly unlikely to attack you with a machine gun.
When Goulburn was bypassed by the Hume Highway in 1992, many of Rambo’s admirers feared for his future. However, we needn’t have worried. In 2007 he was plonked on the back of a truck and moved 800m up the road to his current home near the southern exit ramp.
I was lucky enough to witness the move, along with thousands of others, and to this day it remains one of the most inspiring feats of human achievement. I was so inspired, in fact, that I trotted straight over to Karoonda, South Australia to see their take on The Big Ram.
Today, Rambo is more striking than ever. Cosmetic work was carried out after his migration to complete his legs and add some other minor details, and his eyes now peer out over a nearby Bunnings Warehouse. I guess he has something in common with his brothers the Prawn and Big Kev in that regard! The sprawling gift shop in his tum-tum has plenty of Big Merino souvenirs at great prices, so they won’t try to fleece you!
Q: What do you get if you mix the Big Merino with Matilda the Kangaroo? A: A woolly jumper!
Baaaaaaa-t wait, there’s more! It seems that a small number of scoundrels purporting to be friends of the Bigs have taken to molesting Rambo’s rude parts, which are displayed prominently at the rear of the beast. Many, tragically, delight in taking photos of this act of treason. Whilst I’m sure they believe this to be funny or clever, it is neither.
In fact, it’s a gross exploitation of our friend’s privacy. He has feelings, too, so please leave his Big Balls alone. Admire them, sure, but leave his balls alone. If you dare send me a photograph of this manner, you’ll end up on Rambo’s Hall of Shame. You’ve been warned. You might think you can get away with it, but you can’t pull the wool over my eyes!
With his striking looks and worldwide fame, the Big Pineapple is a rock star of the Big Thing universe. But like most pop culture icons he’s seen the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, been hammered by scandals, fought public battles and rolled, sneering and strutting, back out into the spotlight. This is the story of the legendary Woombye Pineapple.
The towering treat comes from humble beginnings, created as a cover version of Ballina’s much smaller pineapple. Controversy surrounded him from the start, with a rival pineapple being constructed at the same time just up the road in Gympie. The battle of the Bigs was nasty at times; the Woombye team bragged that theirs would be taller, so the Gympie gang claimed theirs would be wider. One side noted theirs would have more realistic texturing, so the other boasted their would have a more authentic shape. Both were completed in 1971, both were 16 metres tall, and the bitter rivalry continued for decades.
Q: Why doesn’t the Big Pineapple fit in with the other Big fruit? A: Because he’s rough around the edges!
As tourism boomed, the adjoining Sunshine Plantation became a beacon for those escaping the cold weather in the southern states. With a working farm, harvesting demonstrations and a small train to take visitors through the luscious crops, it was a simple yet blissful way to spend an afternoon.
Comrades especially enjoyed climbing up to the Pineapple’s viewing platform, which offered an unparalleled panorama out over the landscape. In 1978 the Nutmobile tour was added, which allowed astonished visitors to ride a train with carriages shaped like Macadamias. Tourists went nuts for it!
The Pineapple’s groupies ballooned to more than 800,000 per year, and the spiky-haired heartthrob was spotted partying with fellow celebrities such as Princess Diana, Prince Charles, and the guy who played Nudge on … Hey Dad! It seemed like nothing could stop the soaring fame and fortune of this sun-kissed superstar. But what goes up must come down, and what followed by a dramatic swan-dive from into degeneracy.
Q: What’s the Big Pineapple’s relationship status? A: Pine-appily single!
Despite adding a rainforest walk and animal nursery during the early-90s, the Pineapple’s celebrity plummeted, as young folk turned their attention to newer crazes such as sniffing glue and dancing the Macarena. The Sunshine Coast superstar even lost his record as the largest pineapple in the world, when a three-storey, 17-metre-tall rival appeared in Bathurst, South Africa.
Suddenly, the coolest kid on the block seemed old, daggy and irrelevant, playing songs the new generation didn’t want to hear. Like the Prawn, Oyster and Ploddy the Dinosaur, he was yesterday’s hero and the future looked grim. Facing massive tax bills and looking burnt-out from decades of excess, the faded fruit was passed from owner to owner before going into receivership in 2009 and closing in 2010. It seemed this song had been sung.
Becoming a broken-down shadow of his former self didn’t stop a local produce consortium purchasing the Pineapple shortly after his closure, and he was able to embark on a moderately successful comeback tour in 2011. He seemed tired and depressed, but his loyal supporters were just happy that he made it through at all – his blood rival in Gympie wasn’t so lucky, being destroyed in 2008.
Q: What do you call a 16-metre-tall fruit who complains too much? A: The Big Whine-apple!
But then a miracle happened. Nostalgia came into vogue and suddenly Big Things were cool again (alright, they were always cool, but the plebs were finally waking up to this fact!). After spending some time in rehab and receiving a facelift and a new lick of paint, the friendly fruit returned to the limelight to welcome more fans than ever before. A star was reborn!
In recent years his owners have renovated the grounds, introduced the wildly successful Big Pineapple Music Festival, and expanded the on-site the cafe, which also sells a mouthwatering array of Big Pineapple merchandise (although not, sadly, a pineapple-shaped knitted cap, which is what I was hoping to purchase).
For thrill-seekers, the facility is also home to the highest ropes course in Australia, and the pineapple (who, by the way, is no relation of the Big Pine Cones) himself is home to a two-storey museum dedicated to the local farming industry. One day is simply not enough to see everything on offer!
It’s been a wild ride for this bad boy of Big Things, but he’s emerged from the depths of hell with a positive attitude and a new lease on life. He’s fresher than ever, cool as a cucumber, and ready to inspire a whole new generation of Aussies towards greatness. This is one pineapple you certainly wouldn’t pluck off your pizza!
You need to ‘Kurri’ along and see this winged wonder, and that’s no laughing matter!
The king-sized kingfisher landed in 2009, stands a regal 4.5-metres tall, and was built to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the nearby Hydro Aluminium smelter. As you can see from the photos, he’s absolutely beautiful, and local artist Chris Fussel obviously put a lot of love and care into his work.
Honestly, the craftsmanship is awesome, and the Big Burra should be considered a genuine work of art. I’ve seen some gorgeous roadside attractions, and none surpass this winged wonder. His claws are made out of old horseshoes and his feathers have been individually forged, so he’s a step up from most of his fellow Bigs.
It’s a shame he’s stranded in the underwhelming Col Brown park, because he deserves better than to peer out on some pawn shops and the local Centrelink. In saying that, you could do worse than enjoying the warm feather by sharing your sandwich with the big boy on a pleasant afternoon. They also sell Big Kookaburra magnets across the road at the tourist information centre, which is a plus!
The Big Kookaburra is nice and close to The Big Ugg Boots and Ossie the Mossie, making for a great day out hunting Big Things. You can enjoy this fascinating fowl and then hop along to the nest ginormous stupendous statue. Or you could include this beaked beauty in a tour of all the amazing avians this country has to offer, such as Pete the Pelican, the Big Parrot, Chinute Chinute and ‘Stunning’ Stanley the Emu. You’d be cuckoo not to!
He’s flappin’ magnificent and available seven days a beak, so chick him out! But beware, your time with him will fly by!
Even though he was never completed, abandoned within years of opening, and now houses a car dealership, the outrageously oversized Big Oyster is a real pearler! He’s enormous, goofy, overblown, tragic, beautiful and repulsive – and that’s what we all love about our Bigs!
The incredible invertebrate opened in 1990, as the last of three Bigs built by brothers Louis and Attila Mokany. He followed Goulburn’s Merino and Ballina’s Prawn, and has suffered even more misfortune than those troubled ventures. Pleased with their work on the Prawn, the Mokanys once again tapped Adelaide-based Glenn Industries and scallop-tor James Martin to work on this project.
As Australia’s leading historian on Big Things, it came as a surprise to all when I, the inimitable Bigs Bardot, wasn’t consulted regarding the design and budgetary considerations. Maybe it was because I was only seven years old at the time, maybe it was because of the patriarchy, I’ve never received an answer.
The people of Taree, who invested their hopes and dreams into this behemoth bivalve mollusc, have rued this decision ever since. For my pearls of wisdom may have saved years of heartbreak.
Dis-oyster strikes
Yes, dear reader, setting up this 20-metre-high, 27-metre-wide, 70-tonne sea monster wasn’t all smooth sailing. Construction ran wildly over budget, costing more than $700,000, and took so long that the boys had to make some serious cutbacks just so they could open it to the public.
I know, that shucks, but it’s just what happened.
Whilst the top of the Oyster – you know, the bit visitors can’t see – is exquisitely crafted, the bottom features almost no detail at all, and was simply sprayed with concrete as the cash ran out.
A giant, luminescent pearl that was planned as the centrepiece of the attraction was never installed, and apparently sits in the offices of Glenn Industries, after a dispute regarding payments.
Whilst I’m appalled that someone would be shellfish enough to keep a part of a Big Thing all to themselves, it sounds like bliss to be able to walk into the office every day and experience the heart and soul of the Big Oyster!
Best of shuck to you!
Regardless of these fish-ues, Big Thing fiends were clam-ouring to sea the Oyster when he was prised open by New South Wales Premier Nick Greiner in 1990. I was lucky enough to mussel into the crowds, and remember feeling particularly oysterous that afternoon!
Unfortunately I struggled to build an emotional connection with him (the Oyster, that is, not Nick Greiner), due to his impersonal styling, awkward angles for photos and, yes, lack of a handsome face.
His size inspires awe, and he originally boasted a shop full of Oyster nik-naks and plenty of information on Taree’s burgeoning oyster farming industry. Sadly, The Big Oyster’s popularity soon festered like a seafood platter left out in the sun on a hot afternoon, and he was taken off the menu in 1995.
The Big Oyster’s fate was sealed when the Pacific Highway bypassed the town two years later, and he now serves as the headquarters of the Mid Coast Automotive Group where, ironically, the prices aren’t big at all! Car yards are popular resting place for Bigs, with Lefty the Big Pink Buffalo also living amongst a bunch of used vehicles. This sort of thing just drives me wild!
The Big Oyster, once the soul of Taree has been supplanted in the hearts and minds of locals by Joanna the Goanna. Well, she is a little bit more huggable!
Yes, this Taree icon is a bit of a seafood basketcase, and maybe that’s why I love him so much – because I am too. Really, we’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Running over the streets of Taree, my oyster and me. Delicious with garlic and beer, wish you were here.
I sure felt like a shrimp compared to this supersized sea creature! The princely prawn is one of the most famous and celebrated roadside attractions on the planet, and for good reason – he’s massive, looks fantastic, and has an unbelievable tale… or is that tail?
Actually, it’s both! When the Prawn first swam ashore back in 1989, he looked like a Big Fish had been nibbling on him, because his bottom bits were missing.
Financed by the legendary duo of Attila and Louis Mokany (the Big Thing gurus behind Goulburn’s Merino and Taree’s Oyster) and designed by South Australian sculptor James Martin, his top half rested on top of a service station. He was on a scale nobody antici-bait-ed, but as a child I was always a bit sad because he appeared unfinished.
Curiously, Martin wasn’t originally supposed to design the Prawn, with that honour bestowed upon Tony Colangelo, the legendary designer of the Big Oyster.
However when that project faced a series of delays, the Mokanys grabbed someone from the local art school. It’s an incredible series of events, because the Prawn turned out to be intricately detailed and possibly the most impressive Big of them all.
Q: What happened when this Big Thing went to the Olympics? A: He won a prawns medal!
At 27 metres tall and weighing 40 tonnes, the krill-iant construction was designed to be 30,000 times the size of a normal shrimp. He was a hit with holidaymakers, who lined up to explore his splendid insides, which held a museum dedicated to Ballina’s seafood industry, and allowed his friends to peer out his perspex eyeballs. The good times looked like they’d last forever but, tragically, disaster was on the horizon.
The Prawn’s service station was shuttered in 2010, leaving him trapped and alone, with his fans no longer to explore his sprawling innards. His paint faded badly and he started to rot away, leading some closed-minded people to call him an eyesore. It was a bad time for giant shrimp, with the other Big Prawn falling into disrepair at the same time.
As I drove by one afternoon during those bleak days, I was moved to tears when I discovered that a disgusting invertebrate had spraypainted a part of the male anatomy on the poor Prawn’s head.
I was absolutely appalled when I saw it, because I’d rather die than allow a Big Thing to experience a single moment of sadness.
Q: Where’s the best place to buy second-hand Big Thing souvenirs? A: A prawn shop!
For years it appeared this Big Thing would be prawn but not forgotten. Ballina Council voted to tear him down, and his legion of supporters held vigils as they counted down the days till his demise. And then, during the Prawn’s darkest hour, a miracle happened.
Hardware company Bunnings bought him with the intention of moving him to their new warehouse near the original Big Pineapple, at a cost of $400,000. They planned to repaint him and – most remarkable of all – finally give him a tail. You’ve never crusta-seen a celebration like the one in Ballina when it was announced.
The new design is simply magnificent, and I very much prefer it to his original look. It’s sad, of course, that visitors can no longer walk inside him, but it’s a small price to pay to have this mega mollusc back and better than ever. I just hope nobody tries to pop him on the Bunnings barbie!
And that, ladies and jellyfish, is the story of the king-sized crustacean who lost his way but found his tail, his home, and his smile.
