Au revoir M. P_______ ? (436)

by Max Akroyd

Most efforts today chez-nous were directed towards sprucing the place up, ready for the incoming gite guests.

There was still time for one last bit of piglet-related chaos, though. It all started peacefully enough: the only reminder of the piglets being the occasional squawk as they slowly learned the one golden rule relating to electric fences.

Half way through a morning of putting up fencing and gate posts, the local farmer arrived with some friends to take away two of our piglets. One of whom was to be the terrible Mr P. – a piglet capable of causing chaos far in excess of his tiny stature. Catching his sister was relatively easy since she made a charge for the (surprisingly porous) gate between the two pig pens: being a bit fatter than Mr P. (who has had plenty of exercise recently) she got stuck like a cork in a bottle. I pulled her out and deposited her in the box the farmer had brought for the purpose.

Now for Mr P. Inevitably this is where things started to go horribly wrong. After running around after him for a bit, I rugby tackled him successfully and carried him kicking and screaming towards the box. Just as he was about to join his sister he broke free of my grasp. By now big pig had come to see what all of the fuss was about. Unhappy at the prospect of seeing her beau being chased around, she reared up against the enclosure and – being 16 stone – managed to break a corner post. Mr P. was loose, big pig was angry and about to get even, and I looked like an Englishman in the middle of a panic attack! 


Daddy loses the plot...


The situation only worsened when I entered big pig’s pen to tempt her back in… somehow I managed to semi-crush a finger in that bloody gate. Acting increasingly like I was about to turn into the Hulk (albeit with a bit of a beer belly), and offering my new French friends a crash course in English expletives, I shut big pig in, grabbed Mr P. and stuck him in the box. Even through the pain of my finger, I felt elated.

So goodbye Mr. P. Well, actually, probably just au revoir? I’m not sure there’s a pen that can hold that pig. I told the farmer that I half expected to see Mr P. again and that I could then sell the piglet back to him again. We all agreed this was a fine business plan, shook hands (ouch) and peace and order returned to Kervéguen… for now!