PIGS HAVE MORALS TOO

"You kan tell a man who boozes

By the company he chooses

And then the pig got up

And walked away".

I looked at my only begotten sun Bon Jovi, who was sitting picking his nose and said.

"Bon Jovi, my bon a- me, what moral do you take from that wee poem?"

He who was once a fertilised egg, crossed wan grazed, dirty knee over the other and said with a regal air.

"A very pertinacious and pernickety porker. Who does he think he is? Walking away from the wee drunk man, who was only seeking warmth and company.

If I owned a pig like that, I would turn it into bacon, before you could say, "Jumping Jack Flash".

"You obtuse wee goose" I yelled.

"There is a lesson for life in that wee poem and the lesson is don't keep bad company".

"I beg to disagree" said Bon Jovi.

"The lesson I took out of that poem is, pigs is getting above their station in life. And corporal punishment should be brought back for all farmyard animals, with the exception of wild auld donkeys and wee fluffy ducks"

I looked at the wee brute, sitting there with a smirk on his dirty face and a wet stain round the fork of his short grey trousers. Little Lord Snooty. Prince Bon Jovi. Bon Jovi, the Sultana of Clougher.

"Listen boy" I said "What did your last skool report say?"

"Whom cares" said Bon Jovi "The teechers at my skool and it panes me to say it, but the teechers at my skool is wretched, igornant, pernicious creatures".

"Here is your skool report" I said.

"Let me remind you of how your teechers summed you up".

"In konclusion, I fear Bon Jovi Ryan is beyond redemption and is as thick as too bricks".

"Did you here that? As thick as too bricks! To think a sun of mine should be compared to -too bricks!

Well, all I kan say is, thank God your auld grannie isn't living. She wood have dyed with shame after reeding a retort like that. Your grannie was a highly headucated woman. She could talk many languages--felicitously and ram her hand up the bum of an egg bound chicken and retrive the captive egg".

"Highly headucated my Ant Fanny" yelled Bon Jovi.

"Granny was an auld head the ball, who couldn't tell her arse from her elbow. A fact that was patiently obvious to anyone who ever scene her try to use a po".

"How dare you!" I yelled. "How dare you besiege the good name of your dead, deceased and passed over granny. The day she was dying, she beckoned me to her bed. Grabbed me by my mullberry gansey and whispered low.

"Rosie, Rosie child. "Always put a wee bit of soda in steeped pee's". "Does that sound like the last words of a moron?" I yelled. "Does that sound like the last words of a woman whose brane was addled with confusion and bewilderment? NO! It does knot! The day your granny popped her clogs. may she rest in piece, she was as compes mentos as me".

"That's knot saying a lot" yelled Bon Jovi.

"Who was it who came home with an apron full of wee black balls of sheep dung, thinking they were black cherries?".

"I had a head cold" I yelled."I had lost my sense of smell.

And when I stirred them into the vole, ferret and potato soup they did add a spicy, exotic taste".

"And who was it?" said Bon Jovi. "Went into Murphy's chemist and asked for a big tube of innuendo, thinking it was French for Pile ointment.

"It was a mix-up in translation" I roared. "I couldn't find my glasses and it's hard to read small print through the bottom of a milk bottle".

Bon Jovi smiled, the smile of a maligent goblin and said.

"Innuendo. In-You-End-Oh. Oh Mr Chemist, I'm wild thick and stupid. Give me something for my piles. I believe the French call it, In-You-End-Oh"

And the cub fell off his stool and rolled round the floor like a warthog laughing his big head off".

"SHUT UP! "you juvinile spawn of Satan" I roared Or by the power divested in me by the holy Roman Cat-Lick church I will brust your face.

CEASE! that fowl, vile, repulsive, tardy giggling and chuckling. You is an imp of the devil and knot an hangel of God. You is a vile wretch and a repulsive specimen of a lump of a cub".

"Oh is I?" yelled Bon Jovi. "That's good coming from an auld fat dumplin' with a big red bleezer of a face".

"That back them fowl callemies" I yelled.

"Take back them fowl callimes and distractions or by the sainted knee of saint Cardew of Ballybunnion, I will brust your big, ugly gub".

"Try it" yelled Bon Jovi "And you'll get my toe In-You-End-Oh".

Then the cub leaped the half door like a scalded kat. looked cheekily over the half door. Broke wind with fierce ferocity. Stuck out his tongue and yelled.

"Chase me, I'm a wee gulpin".

"By the horns of Satan" I roared. As I stuck my frock into my nickers, leaped the half door like a graceful gazelle and took off after the cub over the bog. All day the chase went on.

Out in front was the fruit of my lions Bon Jovi. Followed by galloping loving mother. Shucks, drains and bog holes were leaped with a plum.

As the son set in the West, the casual passer- by might have been perplexed and indeed, puzzled to sea mother and sun running in a never ending circle round and round the bog.

And the yells of, "Headbanger" and "Gulpin" would have added grately to their puzzlment and perplexacility.

But it was only a loving mother, trying to brust her beloved suns face to show him the error of his ways.

If Bon Jovi had bean a cuttie, all I wood have to worry about was-buns in ovens and-contradiction!

Lumps of cubs is some hanlin'!