The Mysterious Case of the World’s Worst Helmet

Recently I posted a inspirational article about Lucinda Green and Sexy Running – only for an observant person to remark about helmets, and why they happen to make our heads look so big 😳

Considering I’d included my own head a few times in that post, I assume she meant that my globe looked gargantuan.

Anyway, I responded something to the effect of

“Maate, this helmet is positively petite. Please allow me to dig out a photo of ‘The Egg’….then we can talk”

And rather than keep it a private affair, I thought I’d present ‘The Egg’ as a public gift…

You are very welcome 🤗

Now I’m not great at maths, or science or physics… but I’ve drawn a dotted line where I think the top of my skull might be 👇 and I’ve STILL got absolutely no idea what could possibly be residing in the second storey.

When I first posted this question on social media, rightfully the people were bamboozled….

But soon enough a community of helmet specialists emerged to help solve the mystery of what could possibly be up there 🕵️‍♀️

Some hypothesized on the smaller, yet practical side…

While the more spatially aware among us knew that there was a world of possibilities that could fit upstairs…

But as the mystery deepened, one thing became a certainty…

The Egg had gathered a platoon of powerful allies within the equestrian community.

With this, I knew the story must be followed at all costs so I theatrically swept my desk clear of all other editorial work and set about finding out what had become of The Egg.

That afternoon as we were driving back from town, Anthony and I were discussing the next steps of the investigation.

“I’m really sad I sold The Egg” I lamented, staring wistfully out the window.

“YOU WHAT!?” he screamed.

“Someone paid you MONEY for it?” he said, his eyes wide with shock as he nearly drove off the road.

“Yep fifty bucks on Marketplace…. and I knew the lady who bought it”

“…But come to think of it, she hasn’t spoken to me since” I said, feeling curious mix of guilt and hysterics rising within.

“It was pretty easy really. I sent her my bank details and left The Egg in the mailbox so she could collect it early in the morning on her way to a show”

With that in mind, it made sense that the first step was to try and find her on Facebook… but it seems I’ve been unfriended so that’s a tiny bit awkward 😳

I mean, I really can’t blame her – it was a few years ago now but perhaps I didn’t craft the most accurate listing for Marketplace.

Maybe a more honourable person might have written

‘Huge horse riding helmet for sale. Not up to current safety (or fashion) standards. Seller takes no responsibility for sciatica that may result from use but it could be ok with a neck brace’

Or perhaps

‘Expression of Interest sought for removal of one enormous helmet from Bacchus Marsh. Cash payment of $50 available. Will need a trailer and two strong men to lift’

But knowing me, I probably just focused on the the slippery velvetness and the fact I had only worn it a few times.

Because Ladies, do not forget – this was my stepping out helmet.

My stackhat for special occasions.

It was the way I wanted to immortalise my triumphant return to riding as a grown woman.

And boy oh boy, did I knock it out of the park.

Anyway, I’ve now had time to reflect on what a truly awful thing I did. I sent the poor woman off to a pony pageant with a hot air balloon for a hat and no plan B.

I cannot fathom her horror as she proudly lifted The Egg onto her head, like The Queen preparing for her coronation… Only for her friends to collapse in convulsions on the ground around her.

Or worse.

The could have said NOTHING!

They could have slapped the horse on the rump and said “Go slay the Garryowen, Guurrrrrl” and then made cone-head gestures behind her back all day.

Oh dear… what had I done?

This woman could have left the equestrian community for good…. or she might be in an institution.

Who knows… she might have sat inside The Egg and rowed to New Zealand to start a new life? 🤷‍♀️

So Laura, wherever you are… I’m sorry.

There are so many things I would have done differently.

For starters, I probably wouldn’t have sold it in the first place. Genuinely, I think an OnlyFans account, featuring The Egg and enormous underpants could be my ticket to financial freedom.

But I digress.

Ladies, we must find Laura and conduct a welfare check. We need to use the power of the people to see whether she’s ok and if The Egg lives on.

I can’t remember her last name but she had a horse clipping business around Melbourne somewhere.

If you have any hot tips, please contact Deteggtive Jemima via this page. All information will be held in the strictest confidence.

Thank you in advance. Together we can crack this case.

Post script:

As is often the way, when a mystery captures the attention of a nation, it didn’t take long for the tips to start rolling in…

Within hours Laura had stepped forward, holding The Egg aloft, like royalty do when a new king is born.

Now for anyone lucky enough to be living near Melbourne, Laura from Clipping by Design – with Laura has agreed to bring the Egg to appointments if requested.

But please book well ahead of time, we expect she’ll probably need a line of armoured cars to get herself and The Egg to appointments now.

Thanks to the help from the public, today has been a great day for deteggtive work 💪

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