Giant Flesh-Eating Pigs and Midget Celebrities
Why is it that on TV people always appear taller than they actually are, and animals appear smaller? I swear it’s true. Like, you always think that when you meet famous people they’re going to be these statuesque, glowing gods that you have to physically look up to. As if. I saw Johnny Borrell in Smash and Grab last Thursday and I swear he was no more than an overgrown midget. What the fuck? What does that make Kirsten Dunst? An actual midget? Gross. It makes me a bit uneasy to think that a possible encounter with one of my heroes could be reduced to me accidentally stepping on their head. The wonders of deception…
But seriously, bringing it back to the animal thing, I have this new theory that the American government is concocting a plan to keep the world in the dark about the actual size of animals. This is so at the last minute they can whip out the giant, fur-covered monsters and use them as warriors in their battle for world domination. Crazy? Maybe. But I remember the first time I saw a pig in real life. It’s a moment that haunts my dreams to this very day. It was at the Hackney City Farm about a year ago. See, my friend Tommy and I have this belief that the farm magically cures even the worst of hangovers, so we always end up crawling in there drooling at about 3pm on Sundays. This, however, was my first time. There I was, having fun with the rabbits and the one-eyed rooster when I decided to have a look in the pigpen. And there, out of the corner of my half-open, glazed-over eye I saw the giant, black, hovering beast from hell with a head literally the size of a medium-sized car. I swear if I had a gun I would have shot it right then and there in the middle of its fat face. Scared out of my fucking mind, I ran out of the pen screaming some indecipherable babble about giant flesh-eating pigs. It wasn’t until Tommy explained that, on the contrary, they were actually just normal sized pigs and I had been fooled by a life of believing that Babe: Pig in the City and Charlotte’s Web were honourable sources as to the actual appearance of a pig. Eww. No wonder Jews don’t eat pork.
Similarly, this was also the day I saw my first cow. I wasn’t as scared, but I still screamed and had to hide behind a watering trough. Later on I found out it was actually just a calf that had been born five months ago.
What does it all mean? Why is the TV trying to convince me that giant, life-threatening farm animals don’t exist and that Tom Cruise is anything more than a psychopathic, slightly stretched-out baby? All I pray is that I never see a Moose. Or Shakira. I don’t think I could actually handle seeing that body-writhing, ass shaking gnome-person and live to tell the story.
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