This Is The Best Pig You’ve Ever Seen

This Is The Best Pig You’ve Ever Seen

Hold up. Hold the fucking phone and stop what you’re doing. I’m addressing you, the reader, as a passer-by in my street of words. I, the town crier or market vendor in a busy Victorian-era cobble road, stand atop an empty, upturned apple crate and shout at you with my open palm perpendicular to my mouth to direct my shouts. But what am I shouting about? Only the best pig:


Have you ever seen a better one? No, you haven’t. I had to search meticulously on all search engines (including Ask Jeeves and Lycos) for the phrase “good pigs”. When that didn’t work and I found nothing but mediocre pigs at best, I had to again search with the phrase “good AND pigs”. And there, on the ninth page of the search and shining like a beautiful golden beacon held aloft by a vengeful old testament angel was the best pig (pictured above).

It’s a prince among men of pigs; never will there be a more perfect pedigree of pigs. Notice how it glances off to the side, as if to suggest a thoughtfulness of the pig. Notice how the shaft of light falls gracefully atop its snout, moving to its back; tastefully illuminating the strip and creating an artful symmetry to the pig’s form.

Honestly, who did you thing the best pig was before you read this article? Babe, titular character of Babe and Babe: Pig in the City? Well, I really hope you know that you were completely wrong as soon as you saw the pictured pig. Babe wishes that he grew up and became the pig in this picture – maybe then he’d have kept his career and starred in the canceled Babe 3: Babe Goes to the Nottingham’s Victoria Centre. Even so, it wouldn’t have been written and directed by George Miller, as he was at the time beginning work on the Happy Feet series and, later, a fourth installment to Mad Max. The pig in the picture that I have shown you today could, however, have starred as any one of those penguins in the Happy Feet series of films. I bet this pig is a really versatile actor, and I can tell that by the expression it manages to communicate with its eyes; regret, mixed with disgust. Maybe something else we don’t see – maybe the pig knows something we do not know. Maybe the pig knows who your real parents are or how you wake up from this nightmare, but you have no way of knowing. The pig will never tell you its secrets even if you asked. Not because the pig doesn’t speak, but because he chooses not to. He is above you and would not lower himself to such common muck.

You see his hands in the photo? That’s right, I said hands – this pig, as you can see, very clearly has opposable thumbs. His hands, which have been cut off, are poised over a mechanical typewriter as he writes America’s next great novel. That’s right; the pig is also an accomplished novelist and winner of over three Pulitzer prizes for two novels and a collection of poetry. His upcoming novella, set to release this Easter, is a coming of age story about a young girl growing up in the barrios of Venezuela in the early 1970s. It chronicles her life and love as she grows up in a broken home and must look after her disabled father. It’s hotly anticipated amongst fiction guilds and is set to net the pig a fourth Pullitzer to place amongst the others in his mahogany cabinet in his three-storey mansion.

One day, I hope to be like the pig.

I wish I was half the man the pig is.

One day, the pig will let me take a hair of his glorious whisker-moustache.


And maybe, one day, I will actually buy this photo and remove the watermark,

Does an OK David Bowie impression.

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