While internet sleuthing to see if the beloved Big Prawn from RaRa’s childhood still exists, I stumbled into the review section and immediately fell into an internet rabbit hole.

It turns out the internet is divided on the Big Prawn.
People either loved it or loathed it.

One person claimed it was the reason they believe in God.
Others called it a “don’t bother” “eyesore.”

It made me wonder: a thing that is meant to bring joy to the masses – how could it possibly be so one-star worthy?

Because I love big things.
The bigger the better.
There. I said it.

Why have a regular-sized prawn when you can have the Big Prawn in Ballina?
A small banana? Not in Coffs Harbour.

I’m a complete sucker for the novelty factor – for the idea that someone, somewhere, woke up one day and thought:

“I know. I want to create a giant novelty version of a normal object.”

A quirky genius. Deserving of all the accolades.
Even more bonus points because they didn’t just think it – they did it. Captain Action followed through. They turned a big idea into a big, physical reality.

Australia’s big things serve one purpose, imho: to bring joy.

The minds behind big things are joy machines, taking it upon themselves to entertain the masses – unapologetically – and I respect that big time.

Which is why I’ve been quietly mystified by the people who hate on big things.

Why?
They’ve done absolutely nothing except exist loudly and happily in the world.

So let’s break it down.
Let’s deep dive into the psyche of the Big Things Grinches.

1. “It’s not big enough”

This complaint fascinates me because it implies there’s a universal unit of measurement for how big a big thing should be.

The Big Peanut cops this the most.

And sure, could it be bigger? Always. That’s not the point. The point is that it’s a lot bigger than a peanut.

Also, for what it’s worth, I could get far more jars of peanut butter out of a peanut that size than a regular one, which would go a long way toward satisfying my toddler’s insatiable appetite for “bubber honey” (translation: peanut butter on a teaspoon).

2. “The venue doesn’t sell the food”

I saw this complaint in reviews of the Big Prawn.

“They don’t even sell prawns!”

Of course, Bunnings doesn’t sell prawns, you big prawn.

If you take thirty seconds to look into the backstory, you’ll learn that the beloved tourist attraction fell into disrepair, was vandalised, and the servo (Aussie slang translation: service station) it once lived at shut down and was sold in 2010.
The local Ballina Shire Council voted to allow the Big Prawn to be demolished (the ultimate one-star review), but a petition signed by thousands of big things lovers saved it.

Then Bunnings rescued the prawn.
Spent a staggering $400,000 restoring it.
Gave it a tail.
And hard-launched the glow-up in 2013.

This isn’t a seafood merchandising failure.
It’s an Aussie company saving an Aussie icon.

To be clear, I’m not affiliated with Bunnings in any way aside from seeking out sausage sizzle snags like a missile locked on target.

3. “The location / not worth the drive”

This one really gets me.

Some people hate that the Big Prawn now lives in a car park.
Others complain that the Big Merino is located next to a petrol station, a convenience store, and a fast-food restaurant.

Sure – it would be lovely if every big thing lived in a green field surrounded by butterflies and perfect lighting. But the reality is that these were built by people with big ideas, not infinite budgets.

And when big things are remote – like the Big Boxing Crocodile, a mere 40-minute drive outside balmy Darwin, Northern Territory on the way to Kakadu National Park – some people complain about the drive.

At some point, it’s time to take out the gratitude journal and write an entry for the people who do their best, with the reasonable funds available to them, to bring people joy – or save an Aussie icon.

4. “It’s overpriced”

Here’s the thing: big things can be seen for free.

You can wave at it while driving past.
You can stop and take photos.
You can stand there and admire it without spending a cent.

The optional extras – trains, zoos, distilleries, restaurants – are exactly that: optional.

You don’t have to ride the train to see the Big Pineapple.
You don’t have to eat there either.

Pro tip: if you’re hungry, eat before you go.
A full stomach prevents bitter life experiences (and one-star reviews).

5. Reviewing somewhere else entirely

A personal favourite.

Someone left a one-star review on the Big Merino… because the nearby bakery was crowded and the pies were expensive.

Mate.
I hear you. You were hungry. The line was too long. You needed a pie immediately.

But leave that baaaaad review on the bakery.
The sheep had nothing to do with it.

6. “Too scary / not scary enough”

*The spiky crown is the scary part, apparently.*

It never occurred to me in a million years that a big pineapple could be scary – until my toddler declared a fruit emergency.

“It’s stary!”

Toddler for scary.

This is the same child who squealed with delight at the
Big “Porn”.
(I’m sorry, what!? Oh – prawn.)
And still casually mentions it with affection.

The Big Pineapple, on the other hand, has officially joined the growing list of scary things, which currently includes:

“Snowman, stary”
Santa Claus (his nose apparently)
The Dreamworld tiger souvenir she loved so much, she tried to shoplift, then I paid for… five minutes later: stary.
and now… fruit.

As it turns out, driving past big things and waving?
Massive win.

Inspecting them up close?
Too much.
Too big.
Bigger than big.
Too bigger than big.

Much bigger than Mama and Dada.

And once the pineapple goes troppo and eats Mama and Dada – you’re next, toddler.

(Evil, spiky-crowned pineapple cackle.)

We took a family selfie to mark our Big Things joy tour, but her face says anything but joy.
Lesson learned.

I understand a toddler, encountering the world for the first time, flagging big unfamiliar objects as potential threats.

But the grown man who complained that the Big Merino wasn’t scary enough?

In what world are merino sheep – famously docile, friendly, and easy to handle – considered scary?

These gentle creatures literally keep our feet, hands, torsos, and necks woolly warm in winter.

Toddlers say, “That’s scary.”
Adults say, “Overrated.”

Perhaps the same feeling. Different vocabulary.

If you know a Big Things Grinch, give them a hug.
Tell them you love them.
Tell them they’re safe.
And gently pop a burger in their mouth.

Honestly, I think they need it.

Because most people aren’t joyless –
they’re just Big Toddlers making sense of the world
or hungry. 🍔