It was the pig what did it!

Pig by griffinstock

I'm not all together well. I say that not to elicit sympathy but to explain that the balance of my mind might not be totally horizontal.

It's 01:00 on a Monday morning and I've just woken to the startling fact that it was the pig what did it!

Let me explain: At 13:20 yesterday afternoon, whilst at work, I was afflicted with a migraine... I distinctly remember struggling to first see what was to the right of me and then, an hour later, I couldn't see to my left. I struggled on and managed to get quite a fair deal done but eventually, feeling rather nauseous and somewhat queer down below, went home to discover 'er indoors watching Call the Midwife.

She's recently been watching Downton Abbey, to which I object as I see it as propaganda designed to condition us poor plebs into accepting a life of more obvious servitude. But Call The Midwife I was quite looking forward to. It wasn't some miserable period peace about some grim subject like abortion (bugger knows what she liked about Vera Drake), it is more like All Creatures Great and Small but instead of interesting farm animals being violated by vets we get the poor of the East End being seen to by the female scions of the Upper Crust.

Utterly brilliant! Yet through each episode I watched there seemed to be a couple of pervasive messages. The first is a little miserable and far too close to home at the minute and basically goes along the lines of: love allows the greatest pain but makes it bearable. The second seems to stem from the first and revolves about the nature of untruth: basically love allows for any truth the be ignored (and thus any lie to be told - even, and most especially - to oneself).

Deep ehh? Also heartwarming in a way that I can't really explain. Why is love with pain and suffering greater than love with no pain nor any suffering! Arseholes to that thinks I (well, at least I do now, I want my cake and I want to eat it).

But that's not the reason I woke, ohh no, I woke with the clear feeling that there was something else at play! That all that talk of love, pain and lying was a mere veneer upon something altogether more menacing.

That core meaning, ladies and gentlemen, is obedience! The sisters obeyed their vows, the nurses obeyed the strictures of their society. Miranda Hart's character wrote herself out of the story when she married her copper and disobeyed her mother, the kleptomaniac Nun got into all sorts of bother when she started going mad and disobeyed her order. And poor old Jenny kept obeying that faceless c**t Gerald ('er indoors phrase, not mine! Now there's a cove who wants his cake and to eat it! And he really must be a rum 'un in order for such profanities to pass 'er lips!).

It was the incestuous cleaner that switched me on though. She was right as sixpence right up until the pig went waddling over her nice clean floor. Then the next time we see her she's obeying the long gone people who broke her spirit when she was a child in the workhouse. The cheeky chappie stopped all his various money-making schemes once the pig came and the whole set of characters ended up fetching and carrying or helping with the delivery of the fowl creatures litter!

Ohh yes, it was the pig what did it, and my money is on worms!

I think that the pig infected all and sundry with some sort of parasitic larvae which took root in everyone's brain and started munching... munched all around anything that had any resemblance of free will and left love, pain, sacrifice and bold-faced lies all in order to protect itself and its brood! Brilliant when you think of it, it's not for nothing that George Orwell had a pig as the villain of his great work is it? That murdering pig killed after infecting others with it's vile doctrine, I can only hope that this one doesn't.

Bugger knows what happens in series two, but I'll be willing to bet that the pig is still there, in the central courtyard, like some great, evil, spider in the middle of it's web, pulling everyone's strings and eating the best cake (another give away that), or blood and feather coated toffee-apples. I just hope that Jenny can get out of it's evil control and cop off with her nice young man and stop all that malingering with her asthma... gets old very quick that does and so very convenient the timing of its onset!

But, as I say, I'm not well. The migraine's gone now and left me feeling ever so slightly peculiar!

Just keep your eye on the pig!