
After a moment or two the farmer joined me on his way back from milking his Fresians or choking his chickens or whatever farmers do when not counting EU subsidies and shooting dogs who "Worr worryin' moy sheeep".
"Aaarp." Said said farmer.
"Afternoon." Says I.
I had to ask about the peg legged pig, I was intrigued as to what series of events could possibly have led to his condition.
"Interesting story," the farmer began. "The other week my young son was playing in the lane when a wagon driver lost control of his wagon. I watched as the wagon bore down on my boy, sure he was going to be killed, when that pig vaulted the gate and ran at my son, pushing him clear."
"Wow, and the wagon hit the pig causing the injury?"
"Nope. The next week, on the Friday night, there was a fire in our scullery. That pig managed to break the front door down and rouse me from my sleep. I put the fire out myself before too much damage was done."
"Incredible. What a heroic beast. And he lost his leg because of that?" I asked.
"Nope. The following day a pack of feral dogs got into my chicken enclosure. That pig leapt to their defence, fighting off the dogs and saving my livestock."
"Amazing. So, he lost his leg in the battle?"
"Nope."

By now I was getting a little frustrated with his meandering ramblings.
"Okay, but his leg, how has he ended up with a wooden leg?"
"Well," Says the farmer, "If you had a pig like that would YOU eat him all at once?"
J2H
No comments:
Post a Comment