The Big Bull has met its maker. Alas, those giant swinging testicles may swing no more…
The Big Bull has held a special place in my heart since the Primary school excursion into its fibreglass interior. The bull, irrespective of the weather, would stand like a beacon to guide our way to Wauchope (pronounced – SHIT-HOLE) for whatever reason dragged us there – be it soccer, netball, golf or spot-the-bogan day.
So, RIP Big Bull, we’ll see you in that big abattoir in the sky…
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