1.

The pig shuffled his way up the stairs in the Job Centre. A glass door awaited a touch, but not knowing this, he merely advanced towards it and peered through the glass.

A severe looking hippo with thick black glasses leered at him. He touched the glass with his snout, leaving a smear. She glared at him. The door slid open soundlessly, and he sidled up to the counter.

‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.

‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t,’ he said.

‘Animal type?’

‘Pig.’

‘You’re the third pig we’ve had this week. Quite the epidemic. What’s your name?’

‘Muller.’

‘Address?’

‘Caraway Farm, Flintock, Exeter.’

‘Current employment?’

‘None. That’s why I’m here, you see,’ he said, swishing his tail.

‘Here’s your ticket,’ she said, passing him a piece of paper displaying the number PIG-87 in red. He took it, and held it tight in his right fore-trotter. ‘See the screen up there?’

‘Just about,’ he said.

‘When your number comes up, go to the desk indicated. In the meantime, you can wait there.’ She pointed to a miniature sty in the corner. ‘Go there now, and wait.’

‘Rightee-ho,’ said Muller, and ambled over to the corner indicated.

2.

‘You all right, pig?’ asked a skinny goose with grey tail feathers.

‘I was wondering where all the other unemployed animals were.’

‘They’re not here.’

‘Yes, I suppose that’s true. I’m Muller, by the way.’

‘A good name, Muller. I like that. Used to have a mate called Muller.’

‘Are you comfortable here?’ asked Muller.

‘They don’t like goats and geese here. You’re lucky. They don’t mind fat pigs. They keep us all separate, you know,’ said the goose.

‘Separate?’

‘The different animals.’

‘But that’s awful. It’s specist,’ said Muller.

‘It’s what?’

‘They shouldn’t do that,’ said Muller.

‘Too right, they shouldn’t.’ The goose turned away.

It was very warm. There were lots of goats and geese, Muller noticed. He was the only pig. Perhaps we’re good workers, and are placed in jobs quickly.

At that moment, a two-note grunt erupted from the screen, and the number PIG-87 appeared on it. Against the number were the words, ‘Go to Desk D.’

He was not sure what to do. He started to move, but he found himself circling on one spot. Oh, dear! And then he saw the hippo in black glasses approaching. He squinted at her, and felt very small.

3.

‘Come with me, and I will take you to your desk.’ Muller followed as she walked down a corridor with desks on both sides. All were occupied by hippos with thick black glasses. The occasional goat or goose stood facing their hippo. Eventually, Muller’s hippo stopped.

‘This is Desk D,’ she said. ‘Wait here.’ She waddled through a door.

A moment later, she reappeared on the other side of Desk D.

‘Where were we? Let’s see. Ah, yes. You live at Caraway Farm in Flintock?’

‘In a pigsty,’ said Muller.

‘Food?’

‘The farmer gives me one meal a day.’

‘And what are you here for?’

‘I want a job, of course.’

‘What sort of job are you looking for?’ she asked.

‘Well, I’m good at making an absolute mess, smelling awfully, bumping into fences and other pigs, troughing my food, snorting loudly and sleeping.’

‘A talented pig! I’ll see if we have anything suitable.’

‘Thank you,’ said Muller, feeling a surge of anticipation. The hippo went into the back room again.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged.

‘We’ve found a match for you.’

‘But I don’t want a match. I want a job.’

‘I mean, we’ve found a job for you.’

4.

‘It’s in Flintock, quite close to where you are now. It’s on a farm called Caraway Farm. That rings a bell, somehow,’ said the hippo. She shook her head. ‘I can’t remember. Anyway, the farmer is called Harvey Hogg. He says a pig of his has run away, so he has a vacancy for a new pig.’

‘Hmm,’ said Muller, realising at once that he, Muller, was the pig who had run away. But I don’t want to go back there. He starves me, and I’m a pig who needs to be fed.

‘He says he wants a pig who is untidy, stinks to high heaven, is half-blind, is fat, and is very noisy. He also wants the pig to be quiet a lot of the time, too. Noisy and quiet. The farmer is a strange man. However, he will give you two good meals a day if you take the position.’

‘Two meals a day! I’ll take it.’

Muller returned to Caraway Farm to resume the residency he had abandoned only recently. But this time, he was on double rations. Oh, joy of joys! I love being a pig. I love being a pig! I love being a pig!

The end.