Tag: Newcastle

  • The Angel of the North, Gateshead

    The Angel of the North, Gateshead, England, United Kingdom

    Girl, you’re my angel, you’re my northern angel
    Close to Newcastle in England’s east, baby
    Shorty, you’re my angel, you’re my northern angel
    Girl, you’re a friend to all Geordies, lady

    A hedonistic folly of steel and ambition, The Angel of the North serves as a tribute to the unique soul of those oop norf. Mired in controversy, and loved and loathed in equal measure – much like the people of the region – this remarkable example of post-minimalist roadside architecture is now one of the most recognised sculptures on the planet.

    And holy moly, is this Angel big!

    The Angel – who uses they/them pronouns and is known as ‘Angie’ to enamoured locals – rests on a seraphic hill on the outskirts of Gateshead, right between the A1 and the A16-heaven… oopsies, I mean A167! It’s an appropriate location, given Gateshead is best described as Shangri-La on earth.

    You’ll be cloud nine if you go there – teehee!

    Completed in 1998, The Angel of the North is the pièce de résistance of the cherubic Sir Antony Mark David Gormley, a sculptor blessed with godlike talent. Answering the prayers of all Northerners, he apparently modelled the piece on his own physique. If that’s the case – wow! – I have to get the number of his Pilates teacher.

    “To me the Angel is about being alive today, but I want everyone to have a personal relationship with it,” the artiste sermonised. “I hope it will encourage people to think and ask themselves questions.”

    Thanks but no thanks, Ant. I’ve spent a lifetime suppressing those sorts of questions.

    “My part in this was small,” Brother Gormley preached. “It’s of and from the people of the North East, and was made by them. It was entirely the result of working with local people.”

    I hate to play the devil’s advocate but, after 26 years in the diabolical Gateshead weather, Angie is showing a bit of Tyne and Wear and tear. Hopefully there’ll be some divine intervention by the local council soon to spruce them up!

    Say halo to my not-so-little friend

    • Angie is believed to be the biggest angel sculpture in the world – being slightly larger than the statue of Angel from Home & Away found outside the Beachside Diner.
    • They weigh 208 tonnes – a little over 100 tonnes for the voluptuous body and 50 each for the wings. Oh, Angie, Wetherspoon’s Thursday Night Curry Club shall be the unravelling of us all!
    • Angie’s 54-metre wingspan is wider than that of a Boeing 757. And they look more comfortable than a RyanAir flight!
    • At 20 metres tall, The Angel of the North is the height of a five-storey building, or four Monuments to Vimto stacked on top of each other.
    • Made from weather-resistant Cor-ten steel – enough to make 16 double-decker buses or eight quadruple-decker buses – Angie is designed to mellow with time. We’re both aging like fine wine, toots!
    • The Angel is built to last for 100 years – so plan your trip to the Northeast for before 2098 to avoid disappointment.
    • Angie has yucked it up with many celebs, including Weird Science minx Vanessa Angel, charismatic professional wrestler Angel Garza, and gender-bending illusionist Criss Angel. Local lads – and self-confessed Land of the Bigs tragics – Ant & Dec have also visited, but they don’t have ‘Angel’ in their names, so who cares?
    • Thanks to colossal concrete pillars, each 20 metres deep, Angie can withstand winds of more than 100 miles per hour. If Angie ever decides to wear a hat – and I really hope they do! – those sorts of winds will blow it off.
    • The total cost of The Angel of the North was £800,000, or 13,911,914.02 Botswanan Pulas. I’ll take five!
    • The Angel is seen by an estimated 33 million people every year, which is slightly fewer than the number who visit Land of the Bigs.

    Woah! This Geordie sure is big!

    For time immemorial, The Angel of the North has beckoned me with their siren song. The image of those ethereal wings, that stoic expression, consumed me. I was so obsessed that, for time, I became the self-styled Angel of the West Wyalong.

    I stood outside the IGA for months, arms outstretched, painted a sort of rusty orange. Few people , sadly, afforded me the attention I so craved. But then again, I couldn’t hope to compete with the butcher’s two-for-one rissole deals.

    And so, able to resist the calling no longer, I bestowed my earthly belongings to a local church and made my pilgrimage across the globe to worship at the feet of this sacred Big.

    What I experienced that clammy afternoon can only be described as a rebirth.

    Even as the world’s greatest historian of oversized art, a visit to The Angel of the North proved to be an imposing encounter. Towering above me, their industrial frame cutting through the sullen northern air, they made me feel tiny and insignificant. As I sat beneath a swaying poplar tree, I began to question my very existence.

    What am I doing here? Does my life have value? Am I foolishly worshipping false idols?

    “That’s it,” I decided. “I’m ditching the garish clothes and the partyboy lifestyle and joining the seminary.”

    Just then, dark clouds swept across the field and an icy wind chilled me to my very bones. Illuminated in the fog, The Angel’s face angled ever-so-slightly towards me.

    “You’re already walking the righteous path, Bigs,” a celestial voice boomed. “People find meaning and hope in your writing. It may not always seem like it, but you’re doing His work.”

    And so, with a spring in my step, I wrapped a pair of hot pink sunglasses on my handsome head and swaggered into the sunset.

    “Toodles, Angel,” I cheered. “I’m heading off to get some taco empanadas and take selfies with The Big Fisherman over in North Shields. Tell Father Roderick not to expect me for dinner!”

  • Fiddler’s Green, North Shields, England

    Fiddler's Green Fishermen's Memorial, North Shields, England

    He was an old man who fished alone by the coast of Newcastle upon Tyne and he had gone five years now – ever since his arrival on September 24, 2017 – without taking a fish. For a few days in late-2022 an Australian boy named Bigs Bardot had been with him.

    But after some time without a fish the local chavs had told Bigs that the old man, known as Fiddler’s Green, despite his impressive height of more than two metres, was unlikely to catch any fish as he was made from corten steel and, thus, unable to move his hands at all, and the boy had popped off to the nearby Wetherspoon for their famous Thursday night Curry Club meal deal, paired with a cheeky glass of Wolf Blass Sparkling Brut with a slice of strawberry.

    It made the boy sad to see the old man sitting by himself each day, often with a chubby seagull perched atop his head, and he always trotted down there to munch on a selection of lovingly-prepared canapés whilst admiring the statue’s intricate details, which provided a haunting commentary on a world Bigs knew precious little about.

    A tribute to the countless fisherman lost to the pitiless brine, Fiddler’s Green had been meticulously crafted by renowned artist and steel fabricator Ray Lonsdale. All who swaggered past remarked that his work had been a permanent success.

    Even though he weighed more than two tonnes, the old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. Inspired by a photograph taken in North Shields in 1961 by local photographer Harry Hann, titled The Salt, the old man seemed to contemplate the fate of his fellow fishermen. Wordless, breathless, his gaze acknowledged that he, too, shall be lost to the ocean one day.

    The severe, carved ridges in his tunic and the aching contours of his ruggedly handsome face stood as a testament to the brutal reality of life at sea. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.

    Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same colour as the sea and were super cheerful and undefeated. Which came as no surprise to Bigs, as this memorial was designed with a life expectancy of 150 years.

    “Fiddler’s Green,” the boy said to him as they huddled together in a futile bid to stave off the biting autumnal breeze. “You can come with me. We’ll move to Manchester, get a flat in a trendy, yet still affordable area, and make a life together.”
    The old man had taught the boy to love and the boy loved him.
    “No, Bigs” the old man said. “You know I’m enchanted by Manchester’s burgeoning craft beer scene and eclectic markets as much as anyone, but the waves will always be my home.”

    “But remember how we popped out to the Gay Village for a quick watermelon and ruby grapefruit hard seltzer and then didn’t make it back to our hotel for three weeks?”
    “I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me even when I passed out in the toilets with a fishbowl on my head.”
    “It was the bouncer made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.”
    “I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal.”

    “He threatened to punch me in the kidneys until I cried blood.”
    “Yes Manchester’s bouncers are notoriously violent,” the old man said. “They basically had to pour us into the street by the end of it, didn’t they?”
    “Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a watermelon and ruby grapefruit hard seltzer on the Terrace and then we’ll go home?”
    “Why not?” the old man said. “I’ll pack a dufflebag!”

  • 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 Doc Martens, Newcastle, NSW

    The Big Doc Martens, Newcastle, New South Wales

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Pencil, Newcastle, NSW

    The Big Pencil, Newcastle, New South Wales

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Prawn, Crangan Bay, NSW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Don’t come the raw prawn!

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

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

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

  • The Big Pine Cones, Caves Beach, NSW

    The Big Pine Cones, Caves Beach, New South Wales

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

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

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

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

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