I really did think twice about doing this post. Hell, I even thought about just copying and pasting some spam for Adobe Creative Suite instead. But then I thought “No Sy, the people need to hear about this. It will give them an enormous sense of well being”. Of course, you can send me £700 and I will send you Adobe Creative Suite instead if you want? It is all legal, and don’t take my dodgy looking website negatively, nor the way I keep changing the name.
So anyway. Lets wallow in today’s post.
There is a saying that goes “I am happy as a pig in shit!”. But what if your pig was afraid to wallow in it? Yes, sadly, there is a pig called Cinders which is afraid of good old wallowy mud. So surely that means it is much easier to make a tasty pack of sausages out of it then what they have done. Instead of making a profit, and having a tasty cooked breakfast, they gave it a name, made it a mascot…and gave it boots to wear. BOOTS! A pig in boots.
As a child it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that there is a cat by the name of puss that wore them. This is more because I pronounced puss wrong and I actually read it as in that stuff that can also be called runny discharge rather then pussy cat. Instead I grew up with images of an enormous amount of discharge filling up some boots in my head. And they wrote about it in children’s books. And the boots had a sword. Why would they do that? Kids have a hard enough time as it is with having to accept stuff, but they were forced to think of something as disgusting as that. But then one day someone told me it was a cat. I did have a small sense of relief, but then I started to think about why would a cat want to wear boots? I wouldn’t make my cat wear boots. It would be cruel. Tying a tea towel around her waist so her back legs give up, yeah sure. But boots? That is cruelty. How would you like it if someone you really fancy walked up to you and covered you in whipped cream and then did things that would make this post an 18 certificate (21 in some countries)? OK, probably not the best example.
But anyway. Back to the bacon. “Cinders” has been promised a long and happy life (pigs on a slaughter farm lead happy lives?) and wouldn’t be slaughtered. So I guess you should read “Once this story dies, that pig is toast.” Well, sausages. Or bacon. Or hoof sandwich. Probably not toast in hindsight.
So the pig is happily wandering about in his wallowing field with wellington boots on. It is thought that she will be moved to the field next to the one she and her family are in when the time comes to “do the deed” to the rest of the McSausages family.
The other field is the self pity field. Everyone loves a good wallowing in that field.
Should you feel the need to read, and even watch a video of miss piggy wearing her boots, just click HERE. Don’t blame me, I just write this stuff.
And don’t even get me started on the giant masturbating pandas living in Bedfordshire.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 