Country boy and former hulking strongman Brett used to take great pride in being addressed as “big fella”. In fact, for most of his life, his name may as well have been big fella given how regularly it was used.
Alas, as the cruel spectre of age stalks him, he notices his once athletic frame is beginning to pack on some extra baggage. Now, he can’t help thinking that he’s slipped down the hierarchy of big fella society. He told The Times,
“People used to look at me and think, yep 6”4 and built like a brick shithouse. That’s the highest level of big fella. Now they look at me and I know the big fella’ring is coming from a place of pity on my ever-burgeoning gut”
It’s true. Brett has slowly transitioned from a purebred big fella into a rotund big fella and it has taken the step out of his swagger.
We spoke to Brett’s partner to find out how the change was affecting the big fella. She told The Times,
“At Xmas he took out a camping chair with his robust outboard meat motor. Normally when he did that he would laugh the hardest knowing it was a classic shenanigan of a respectable centre half-forward unit. When he did it this year he knew it was the shameful dance of the portly man”
Then one of his uncles let out a “woah, easy there big fella” and witnesses reported a blankness came over Brett’s face. He struggled to find any joy at that moment and returned a vicious barb about his uncle being bald.
After excavating his hefty arse out of the chair, Brett decided that his new year resolution was to climb back up the big fella ladder and regain his rightful spot. He told The Times,
“I’ve been hitting the seltzers ever since and the other day I helped rescue a tennis ball from a tree at the park using my height. That big fellaring felt good man, I’m back on track but there is a long road to go”
On’ya big fella.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?