Thanks to Sam for finding this first one on an article about a man who lived with some pigs.
My son took a year out of his job as a furniture restorer to work on a small free range pig farm in northern Spain. He loved it and became a very adept piggy midwife. His favourite pig was “the Teaser” who had the unenviable job of checking whether the ladies were “ready” but he was not allowed to touch. However, Nick occasionally took pity on him. Before Nick left we had to dispose of his working clothes as the smell was permanent. Nick really came to appreciate these intelligent animals and it took him a long time before he could happily eat pork.
Linda Arnell, Chichester, West Sussex
I’ve read this a few times, trying to interpret it charitably, but I keep coming back to the conclusion that it’s an anecdote about a furniture restorer who became very stinky when he wanked off a sad pig.
Or maybe it’s a warning that pig spunk can put you off bacon.
Found this one lower down.
I am interested in how people can connect with an animal such as the pig and happily see it slaughtered at a very young age simply because they taste nice and not through any real need. Pigs are intelligent sentient animals, just like dogs, but we would be aghast at eating dogs. A lot of people seem to suffer from moral schizophrenia.
Brian, Clackmannanshire
Nah mate. We’re just waiting for all the veggies to die of malnutrition so we can enjoy our beagle burgers in peace.
40 Responses to “Pity Poor Pig”
I wish mum would have kept me anonymous…
Why did Linda’s son feel such a need for happy pork-eating? Did he sit miserably eating bacon sandwiches, tears rolling down his cheeks, praying for the day that it didn’t feel like murder?
It’s true, isn’t it? We really should start eating dogs as well as pigs. We can’t keep fooling ourselves: these dogs are smart enough to know that we’re eating animals that aren’t them, and they’re beginning to get rather cross about it.
No-one eats pandas, though. They taste of bamboo and fleas.
I’ve just realised that Brian from Clackmannanshire meant something quite different.
Fuck it, let’s eat him too.
Nom nom.
I like Helens thinking here – more torture of animals – perhaps as a spectator sport?
Not laughed so much in as long as I can remember. Nelson, you’re a genius.
If Helen from Cardiff is such a poor single mum, then how can she afford a computer and spend all day posting pig spunk on the Internet? Every time someone says they are a poor single mum on there, I can smell bullshit.
To be fair, you do live on a dairy farm.
If God didn’t want us to eat animals, he shouldn’t have made them out of meat.
As a person with no arms, the story of Nick’s piggy pitty wank brought a tear to my eye.
Norkhat,
Unfortunately that legitimises canibalism. (See Flanders and Swann)
Hang on – they live in Chichester, and he worked on a pig farm in Spain. So she’s saying that before he left Chichester she binned all his work clothes? I guess it’s all that varnish, or something.
Also…
He obviously didn’t appreciate them that much, did he? Or is “eat pork” a euphemism for his pig frottage?
Who am I talking to?
Further to Norkhat’s pov, I prefer more of a Darwino-Dawkinsist explanation: it’s the pigs own fault for not evolving as quickly as the apes. Winner takes all in this game, I’m afraid.
If they choose to evolve into a species of porcine super-predators prepared to take on the human race, then they can even the balance up a bit – but until then, please stop whining.
Anyway, these people who don’t want to eat pork are obviously terrorists or part of the “global financial conspiracy” – and should be watched.
Or giving pig head?
Oink.
“it’s the pigs own fault for not evolving as quickly as the apes”
They’ve trained us into giving them bed, breakfast and a hand-job. Who’s REALLY been domesticated here?
Male pig orgasm can last 30 minutes! I suppose that goes some way towards compensation for only living 28 weeks.
When you say eat pork…
I’tt thank you not to take my name in vain!
or even “I’ll thank you not to take my name in vain!”
Nice?! They’re fucking delicious! There’s your answer, mate; you’re under-rating the taste of the pig.
Linda, Linda, Linda.
You’ve given your son’s first name, surname and place of birth together with the information that he wanked off pigs that couldn’t get laid and stank the place out. IS THIS BRITAIN’S WORST MOTHER?
Just goes to show.
She wasn’t that bad. She gave me all the pork I could eat, and chichester is a lovely walled city.
Maybe that’s why they don’t understand why pigs are so tasty. They’re busy chopping up Dysons and serving them up with mashed spuds.
Who doesn’t eat pork? The Terrorists and the Jews. Thats who.
Oooh, but it’s a quandary, this one. Yes, let’s eat yummy English (not British) pork as it am teh tasty BUT… we then run the risk of ridding the world of our once-great porcine deliciousness, leaving tasteless, stringy FORRIN pig-flesh to take over our supermarket shelves, with their different and wrong piggy ways and substandard crackling.
Mmm, crackling.
Incidentally, just how often do you have to wank off a pig for the smell to become so pervasive that you have to destroy your clothes?!? To quote Cleveland Brown, “ooh, that’s naaasty!”.
Sorry, Anonnamoose, they do let us dole scum on the internet so obviously they couldn’t stop Hard-Working Families being here or it would simply deepen the benefits trap. Which from what I can gather is caused by having a minimum wage and not starving the unemployed and disabled enough. I am looking forward to being threatened hard enough to cure my brain and spontaneously generate a suitable job for a panic-prone agoraphobe during a recession.
Also, you can get online on crappy third-hand computers these days, if you don’t mind excruciating slowness. Helen could well be enjoying a thrilling retro experience reminiscent of the halcyon days of dial-up. Jammy cow.
“nick’s piggy pity wank” Bit of a tongue twister that – especially when hopped up on coffee and reading it outloud to office mate. Who didn’t laugh. He is forrin tho.
Is it really sick that I found Linda’s tale of her son’s friendship with a sexually frustrated pig, tormented by the barbaric ways of modern farming, quite sweet?
It is? Fair enough.
Don’t let it stop you. The world is richer for people like you.
No, you are just too good a person, really for this website.
Anyone want some barbecued Brian? On bamboo skewers? Nom nom.
I mean, I nearly posted the other day when Someone said that Ratzinger was in the Hitler Youth to point out that he was in the Hitler Youth when it was compulsory for all children in Germany. But then I thought, fuck it, its the fucking pope and he’s much smarter and richer than I am so I am going to GET STUCK RIGHT IN to the Nazi bastard next time I see him.
(Panda puts down silver platter of Brian for all to chow down on, walks off wiping his Panda paws on his apron and humming ‘Moon River’.)
“Pigs are intelligent sentient animals” and they are the highest form of life in Clackmannanshire. Which is why I left that boil on the arse of the planet 30 years ago.
You could quite reasonably point out that being in the Hitler Youth is one of the Pope’s more likeable features as at least it’s vaguely entertaining. And choosing as a child to join a fun club with pretty uniforms that also happened to be a bit evil ranks pretty low on his sheer awfulness list too.
Or maybe I’m just in denial about having made the Brownie Promise without any intention of keeping it. I am worried that it still applies.
You can think you’ve turned your back on Catholicism/Brownieism, but when the final moment comes the whispered, penitent words “Forgive me Father/Brown Owl for I have sinned” will always be heard.
Hmm.
Duty to God: agnostic atheist so doesn’t apply.
Serve the Queen: I think I’ve failed quite heavily on that one.
Help other people: well, I never said how much.
Keep the Brownie Guide Law: If you mean develop destructively self-sacrificing tendencies that verge on personality disorder, then very possibly. Although I hope I don’t have to do a good turn on the days I don’t actually get up.
The major difference between lapsed Brownies and lapsed Catholics is that very few Irish comedians work the former into their routines. Shame really.
Oh, I really, really hope so.
why does a “lapsed brownie” sound like an injury a porn star might aquire?
More to the point though, where the fuck is Clackmannanshire!!! That’s not a real place surely. Apologies to any Clackmannanish that might be offended by by ignorance.
Clackmannanshire is the smallest county in Scotland and therefore should not even be mentioned on this English (not British) website.