Tag: The Big Fish

  • Gerald the Fish, Raymond Terrace, NSW

    Raymond Terrace is full of colourful characters, but none are quite as bright and bubbly as Gerald the Fish! This myrtle-and-cardinal cutie lights up Terrace Park, on the banks of the shimmering Hunter River.

    Gerald is the fish de résistance of local sculptor Greg Salter, and serves as a savage criticism of over-fishing in the region. The aquatic dreamboat first appeared in the Nelson Bay Sculpture Festival in 2013, under his original name of Ode to the Old Fish.

    Back then, Gerald gleamed with silver-and-rust hues and – get this – could actually spin around. With his plump underbelly and slightly perplexed expression, Gerald was a hit the locals.

    After spending some time on the Nelson Bay foreshore, Port Stephens Council bought Gerald and, determined to transform Raymond Terrace into the next tourism hotspot, popped him in his current location.

    But now he needed a new name. Something warmer, friendlier, codd-ier than Ode to the Old Fish.

    A competition was held to give the green grouper a new moniker, with 12-year-old wunderkind Nic Bourke suggesting Gerald. Why Gerald, you ask? Well, because he lives right next to the Fitzgerald Bridge.

    That’s o-fish-ially the cleverest name I’ve ever heard!

    The Fishman Cometh

    They say the road to hell is paved with cod intentions. Raymond Terrace never became the next Côte d’Azur, and Gerald the Fish was left to rot away like a forgotten fillet in the midday sun.

    Greg painstakingly restored Gerald in 2024 but, sadly, the fish is looking a bit green around the gills again. When I took the Bardot family fvisited in early-2026, we were appalled to discover that that some bottom-feeder had scrawled a grotty message on poor ol’ Gerry’s eyeball.

    Whilst the drivel doesn’t bear repeating, it was something about sucking on fish balls – and I’m not talking about the deep-fried southeast Asian delicacy.

    I won’t stand for such brutality against Bigs but – after a stern warning from the police not to get involved – I decided to pay someone to do my dirty work for me. Enter Mexican pro-wrestling tough guy Fishman.

    And so, one windswept Tuesday evening, Fishman met up with the graffitist behind the nearby public toilets. The pen-pushing pest may have been expecting a night debauchery with a Latino stud, but instead got turned into fish food, filling the bellies of bass and bream from Bar Beach to Buladelah.

    Once more, the good folk of Raymond Terrace are safe from texta-wielding perverts. Graciás, Fishman!

    When Gordon Met Gerald

    Hey, Biggies – Gordon here. You remember me, I’m the pint-sized alien sidekick to the inimitable Bigs Bardot. The beating heart of Land of the Bigs, so I’ve been called.

    Although you wouldn’t know it, seeing as the Bardots forgot to tell me that they were going to see Gerald. They know it’s always been my dream to see the glittering lights of Raymond Terrace!

    Bigella was there. Peter Poppins was there. Even Fishman made it into the photos, and I’ve never even seen him before. Where were you during the Land of the Bigs team building weekend in Dapto, punk?

    By the time I made it to The Terrace, the family had moved on. My encounter with Gerald was cordial and, at times, really quite illuminating, but there was something missing.

    What’s the point of visiting a Big if you don’t have someone to share it with? That’s why we travel across the country, tracking down giant goannas and dogs and koalas – for the laughs and joy and camaraderie we experience along the way.

    Anyway, Bigs, I’m not upset. Just disappointed.

  • The Big Fish, Belfast, Northern Ireland

    The Big Fish, Belfast, Northern Ireland

    Holy mackerel, look at the size of that fish! Installed upon the steps of Donegall Quay one warm afternoon in 1999, The Big Fish, with her supple lips and bedroom eyes, has been many a Belfastian lad’s first kiss.

    It’s not uncommon to see a line of teens – and the odd curious tourist – waiting patiently for a memorable encounter with The Fish. You might call it a right of bass-age.

    Located on the confluence of the River Farset and the River Lagan, The Big Fish symbolises the reinvigoration of the city’s waterways. There was, not surprisingly, a heated de-bait when she was announced (and not just from the local lasses, who feared they’d be upstaged).

    This splendid example of urban kitsch was created by the delightfully droll John Kindness – and a more appropriately-named gentleman you could never hope to meet. Drawing on a lifetime of experience, he imbued the Fish with a mixture of pathos and buffoonery that’s just so very Irish.

    “A lot of artists have a fear of not being taken seriously, so they take themselves far too seriously,” John cooed. “Black humour is something I think Belfast people can’t help: finding some element of mirth in almost every situation.”

    Oh John, it’s enough to make you twist and trout!

    Each of the fish’s scales serves as a love letter to a moment in Belfast’s history. The industrial revolution. Aslan the Great Lion. George Best’s astonishing drinking exploits. The Ulster Museum provided reference images, and the area’s more artistic kiddies painted them on the side of the creature. I’ve been assured a scale celebrating Land of the Bigs’ visit will be added any day now.

    There’s even a time capsule hidden betwixt the fish‘s plump belly. I’d pike to be there when they finally open it!

    Know Your Sole

    Also known as the Salmon of Knowledge, this giant guppie was inspired by a famous Irish legend. As the tale goes, a regular, old salmon guzzled nine magical pints of Guinness and gained all the knowledge in the world.

    Don’t we all?

    Word subsequently spread across the emerald hills that the first person to eat the fish’s flesh would gain all of the knowledge. As a result, some guy – I imagine he looked a bit like beloved Broughshane-bred character actor, and long-time Land of the Bigs reader, James Nesbitt – heard about it and spent seven years hunting down the Salmon of Knowledge.

    When he finally caught the scaly critter, he handed him to Finn McCool – yes, that Finn McCool – and asked him to batter the fish.

    Fortunately, this was in Northern Ireland, where battery is the national pastime – teehee!

    Rather than do as he was told, Finn gobbled down the fish with a wedge of lemon, gained a millennia’s wisdom and insight, and went on to run the most profitable vape shop in Strabane. Or something like that.

    Inspired by the tale, I joined the line of excited Irishmen preening before the perch. My heart thudding in my chest, I stepped up to The Big Fish, whispered a few sweet nothings in her ear, and leaned in for my first smooch.

    How was it? Well, that’s between me, The Big Fish, and Dugald who was in the line behind me. Needless to say, I may not have gained the universe’s wisdom, but I did get an invigorating case of botulism.

  • The Big Murray Cod, Tocumwal, NSW

    The Big Murray Cod, Tocumwal, New South Wales

    “Oh my cod, isn’t he big!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • The Big Fish, Manilla, NSW

    The Big Fish, Manilla, New South Wales

    After herring rumours of a big fish in Manilla – the lovely country town half-an-hour from Tamworth’s Big Golden Guitar, not the capital of The Philippines – I was hooked on the idea of tracking it down.

    After taking some time to mullet over, I headed out there, and am happy to say that it reely was worth it. In fact, standing next to this fishface, with his delightful top hat and cane, I 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. I didn’t go hungry, though, because Manilla boasts a generous selection of restaurants, pubs and clubs, and I was feeling a little green around the gills after stuffing myself silly 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!