This one is a bit of a cheat, as a ‘globster’ isn’t a specific cryptid but an umbrella term used to describe any and all of the weird and unidentifiable organic shit that washes up on beaches all over the world. There have been dozens that have caused media storms and freaked out locals who nevertheless generally turn up in droves to poke the rotting bag of meat with sticks before declaring that it must be a dinosaur or some sort of misplaced Godzilla miscarriage:
The hype surrounding globsters like the St Augustine Monster peaked in the late 19th and early 20th century, when everybody relied on newspapers and logical people couldn’t log online to pick apart the insanity of it all. A good monster story was excellent press and dragged a lot of tourists to the area, so a lot of hacks wildly publicised just about anything globster-related they could get their hands on. And then in 1924 they hit a slam dunk.
“Trunko” was sighted on October 25 off the coast of Margate, South Africa. And this globster wasn’t a rancid sack of flesh stinking up the beach like your mum on holiday in Benidorm – it was apparently alive and kicking, fighting with two killer whales off the coast.
For three hours witnesses watched Trunko – a fifty-foot, white and hairy ‘whale’ with a long trunk – battle the two orcas, jumping twenty feet out of the sea and thrashing them with its tail before the poor beast eventually conked out and washed up on the beach. The few photographs taken that day remained undiscovered until 2010, when a nerd much like me managed to dig them up:
Globsters remained a mystery until forensic techniques improved and proper scientists decided to shit all over the mystery of it all. Samples from the Saint Augustine Monster analysed at the Smithsonian turned out to come from the collagen matrix that supports whale blubber. Thus the mystery of Trunko and many others was solved – when a massive animal like a whale dies at sea, the carcass sinks until the bones separate from the flesh, at which point the tough collagen fibres lump into one enormous mass and pop to the surface like a rancid, thirty-tonne cork. The fibres are white and form long strands, making the whole disgusting blob look distinctly hairy and alien. Not that such an appearance puts the killer whales off – they take one look at the festering lump and then like to eat and play volleyball with it, for no other reason than they are the horrifying cannibalistic psychopaths of the sea.
The mystery of a lot of globsters was suddenly solved. They weren’t monsters at all, but simply lumps of congealed collagen left over from a mouldering corpse. Kind of like what we’d get now, if Leslie Ash died in the bath and nobody found her for three weeks.