The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks
Geordie cryptids are normally identifiable by a number of peculiar "trademarks"; they tend to wear string
vests, drink copious amounts of brown ale ( colloquially known as lunatics' broth) and have a fondness for
dining on the fish Gadus morhua, or Atlantic Cod. Being omnivorous, they will often supplement their diet with
the root vegetable Solanum tuberosum. Together, Gadus morhua and Solanum tuberosum are commonly
called "fish and chips".
Anyway, enough of the science lesson and on with the blog.
On Saturday evening, Mr. Richard Freeman and I proceeded to a somewhat ostentatious drinking establishment
called The Alum Ale House. "The Alum" sits on the south bank of the River Tyne in South Shields, and provides
refreshment to weary travellers. However, in keeping with Geordie by-laws patrons who frequent the place
must be at least two weeks old and are not allowed to purchase alcoholic beverages until they have reached
three months. For pedants, an "alcoholic beverage" in Geordieland must be at least 86% proof. Any weaker
products are classed as "soft drinks", as only new-borns and Southerners imbibe them.
The purpose of our visit was to educate the local populace regarding two cryptozoological enigmas. I opened
the proceedings by informing the packed Dungeon Bar about one of our more colourful crustaceans; a huge
critter commonly known as The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks. Having suitably traumatised those foolhardy
enough to attend, Mr. Freeman then followed with a rendition of his adventures in a country called "Russia",
which allegedly lies many furlongs away in another land supposedly called "Europe". The existence of both
these locations has yet to be verified by our scientists.
The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks is something of a puzzle, as it is almost certainly not a lobster and it doesn't
reside on Trow Rocks. Mind you, it lives pretty close to them.
Aquatic cryptids are supposed to live in picturesque underwater caves decorated with sea shells. The Giant
Lobster of Trow Rocks, being a Geordie, prefers to tart up his home with old copies of Viz magazine and
Woodbine packets, but we need not quibble over details.
In the early part of the 20th century, there stood in Jarrow, also on the banks of the Tyne, a dock. Docks were
places where we used to build ships, dismantle ships and fish for our supper, but with the decline of the
shipping industry they steadily became redundant. At the neck of the dock stood a huge steel thing known as a
gate. The gate was used to keep some of the water out and to prevent the locals from escaping. At some
Juncture it became surplus to requirements, and a rich bloke bought it and decided to have it sent off to
Norway where it could be broken down and sold for scrap. The plan went swimmingly - please excuse the
pun - at first. The dock was strapped to another Big Thing called a boat, and it duly made its way down
river. After entering the North Sea the boat turned right and got as far as Marsden Bay. Here, alas,
tempestuous waves and gusty winds precipitated a disaster. The boat shuggied about a bit in the sea, and the
gate fell off.
Now the gate was so big that even after it hit the bottom the top bit was still sticking out of the water, where it
remained for many decades - a stark testament to both the skill of our nautical engineers, the stupidity of our
politicians and the ferocity of our ocean.
Twenty years later, a bloke from Sunderland, which lies within the adjacent Kingdom of Mackemland,
purchased the gate with the intention of salvaging it. He strapped it to a boat, sailed a bit further up the shore
and then watched as it fell off again. Bugger, he opined. A third attempt also ended in like manner, and the
remains of the gate have lodged at the bottom of the briny ever since. You can still see it at low tide.
In 1963, people started to see a Strange Thing on the beach. It was 12 feet in length, dark green in colour and
had big claws, upon which it sported sharp lumps. Recently, after much investigation, our marine biologists
positively identified these lumps as - sorry to get technical - "pointy bits" and suggested that they are probably
best avoided by bathers who find themselves in close proximity to the creature. Since its arrival, the creature
has been known as The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks, but this is a misnomer. Indeed, its description fits
closely that of Jaekelopterus rhenaniae, the long-extinct (supposedly) Giant Sea Scorpion.
What, pray, I hear you ask, has this creature got to do with the dock gate? For reasons I have not been able to
fathom - there’s another pun in there, if you think about it - a legend arose that the monster - whatever its
taxonomical provenance - lived beneath the remains of the gate just off the coast, and would only venture
forth from its steel home to catch its prey or put a bet on at the local bookies.
This, in essence, is the story of the Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks. Those who wish to learn more can do so by
purchasing a copy of my book Mystery Animals of the British Isles: Northumberland & Tyneside (CFZ Press,
2008), by means of which they may also edify themselves regarding more serious cryptids such as The Giant
Rabbit of Felton and the Ghost Birds of Jesmond Dene. (The latter, I hasten to point out, should not be confused
with two other species known as the Drunken Birds of Benwell and the Dolly Birds of Walker).
After, Mr. Freeman regaled our audience with tales of his Russian trip. One highlight was his fascinating
description of a gorilla's penis, which was accompanied by vigorous wiggling of his little finger. Mr. Freeman
assured us that both his pinkie and a gorilla's penis are nigh-identical. Whether the refusal of our audience to
shake hands with him later was connected to this I cannot say, but his lecture went down a storm and the
crowd yelled for more. Indeed, they got more the following evening when we were invited back by popular
demand. The audience, alas, was not quite as large as the previous evening, but we at least had the
opportunity to sample a delightful real ale called The Cross Buttock. I will refrain from going into too much
detail, but I would like to point out that this beverage very much "does what it says on the tin", and proved to
be a most efficacious treatment for solemnity as well as other burdens of body and mind.
Yours in the spirit of Biffa Bacon.... END
Geordie cryptids are normally identifiable by a number of peculiar "trademarks"; they tend to wear string
vests, drink copious amounts of brown ale ( colloquially known as lunatics' broth) and have a fondness for
dining on the fish Gadus morhua, or Atlantic Cod. Being omnivorous, they will often supplement their diet with
the root vegetable Solanum tuberosum. Together, Gadus morhua and Solanum tuberosum are commonly
called "fish and chips".
Anyway, enough of the science lesson and on with the blog.
On Saturday evening, Mr. Richard Freeman and I proceeded to a somewhat ostentatious drinking establishment
called The Alum Ale House. "The Alum" sits on the south bank of the River Tyne in South Shields, and provides
refreshment to weary travellers. However, in keeping with Geordie by-
three months. For pedants, an "alcoholic beverage" in Geordieland must be at least 86% proof. Any weaker
products are classed as "soft drinks", as only new-
The purpose of our visit was to educate the local populace regarding two cryptozoological enigmas. I opened
the proceedings by informing the packed Dungeon Bar about one of our more colourful crustaceans; a huge
critter commonly known as The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks. Having suitably traumatised those foolhardy
enough to attend, Mr. Freeman then followed with a rendition of his adventures in a country called "Russia",
which allegedly lies many furlongs away in another land supposedly called "Europe". The existence of both
these locations has yet to be verified by our scientists.
The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks is something of a puzzle, as it is almost certainly not a lobster and it doesn't
reside on Trow Rocks. Mind you, it lives pretty close to them.
Aquatic cryptids are supposed to live in picturesque underwater caves decorated with sea shells. The Giant
Lobster of Trow Rocks, being a Geordie, prefers to tart up his home with old copies of Viz magazine and
Woodbine packets, but we need not quibble over details.
In the early part of the 20th century, there stood in Jarrow, also on the banks of the Tyne, a dock. Docks were
places where we used to build ships, dismantle ships and fish for our supper, but with the decline of the
shipping industry they steadily became redundant. At the neck of the dock stood a huge steel thing known as a
gate. The gate was used to keep some of the water out and to prevent the locals from escaping. At some
Juncture it became surplus to requirements, and a rich bloke bought it and decided to have it sent off to
Norway where it could be broken down and sold for scrap. The plan went swimmingly -
tempestuous waves and gusty winds precipitated a disaster. The boat shuggied about a bit in the sea, and the
gate fell off.
Now the gate was so big that even after it hit the bottom the top bit was still sticking out of the water, where it
remained for many decades -
Twenty years later, a bloke from Sunderland, which lies within the adjacent Kingdom of Mackemland,
purchased the gate with the intention of salvaging it. He strapped it to a boat, sailed a bit further up the shore
and then watched as it fell off again. Bugger, he opined. A third attempt also ended in like manner, and the
remains of the gate have lodged at the bottom of the briny ever since. You can still see it at low tide.
In 1963, people started to see a Strange Thing on the beach. It was 12 feet in length, dark green in colour and
had big claws, upon which it sported sharp lumps. Recently, after much investigation, our marine biologists
positively identified these lumps as -
has been known as The Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks, but this is a misnomer. Indeed, its description fits
closely that of Jaekelopterus rhenaniae, the long-
What, pray, I hear you ask, has this creature got to do with the dock gate? For reasons I have not been able to
fathom -
This, in essence, is the story of the Giant Lobster of Trow Rocks. Those who wish to learn more can do so by
purchasing a copy of my book Mystery Animals of the British Isles: Northumberland & Tyneside (CFZ Press,
2008), by means of which they may also edify themselves regarding more serious cryptids such as The Giant
Rabbit of Felton and the Ghost Birds of Jesmond Dene. (The latter, I hasten to point out, should not be confused
with two other species known as the Drunken Birds of Benwell and the Dolly Birds of Walker).
After, Mr. Freeman regaled our audience with tales of his Russian trip. One highlight was his fascinating
description of a gorilla's penis, which was accompanied by vigorous wiggling of his little finger. Mr. Freeman
assured us that both his pinkie and a gorilla's penis are nigh-
crowd yelled for more. Indeed, they got more the following evening when we were invited back by popular
demand. The audience, alas, was not quite as large as the previous evening, but we at least had the
opportunity to sample a delightful real ale called The Cross Buttock. I will refrain from going into too much
detail, but I would like to point out that this beverage very much "does what it says on the tin", and proved to
be a most efficacious treatment for solemnity as well as other burdens of body and mind.
Yours in the spirit of Biffa Bacon.... END
