Gregory Big: A History

A few years back I started writing about a certain remarkably unremarkable man. As I have been inundated with people begging me to bring him back, I thought I would write this biography as dictated by the man himself. After a 5-year hiatus, folks, I’m bringing back the big. Enjoy.

Gregory Big: A Biography


I was born in a year when mittens were the fashion item of the spring to Jimothy and Ezzzz Big. After doctors asserted I was indeed a boy (plus the three week waiting period) I was named Gregory Arbuthnot Big after Earnst GregoryMcTeal, a man whom my mother once saw in a newspaper shouting at a yam and Alexander Arbuthnot who invented boats.
I was the oldest of two, my younger brother was born two years after me and then a week after that and was named Fritzkreig “El Incubator” Hamish Big after the first few things my Grandmother once said in a fever dream.

My father was a freelance professor of Spoons & Associated Cutlery and my mother exposed magicians. We lived well in luxurious 4 bedroom-3 bathroom hovel in a shanty town situated in a sewer, until the sanitation people moved us on. We lived in a lot of interesting places after that; a tree, a shed, a bunker, a u-boat, pages 45-168 of a first edition of ‘Dude, Where’s My Country’ By Michael Moore and in the basement of a fruit stall, which was the best place to raise a child until the owner wheeled it home for the night. Then it was the worst place to raise a child.

During my 8th year, my father became Walcott University’s resident Professor of Running up the Stairs Two at a Time, Flinging the Door Open & Shouting ‘Aha! Caught You, Mildred!’ which meant we could afford to settle into a quaint little house on Thrif St. However, it was not long after this that my mother contracted Spatchcock’s Disease.

Named after Dr. Glen Spatchcock, this terminal disease, (for those not doctors,) irreversibly damages a person’s stock portfolio by investing large chunks of money in various terrible ideas and leave the patient in the firm belief that they are a miniature Tibetan yak. Since I was eight, I saw this dreaded disease’s effect on my mother whilst laughing like a drain when she would ram people she did not know.

All went along quite uneventfully bar the odd adventure for a while, and then I met a young man who found my life quite eventful. So I recounted to him all my stories and he in turn sang Bjork songs at me. Which I believe was a very unfair deal considering he knew none and was just screeching at me…

So thank you for reading about my uninteresting life. Thank you young sir for chronicling it. And thank you for reading about my uninteresting life.


Gregory Big. New Adventures. Coming Soon in 2010.