Going Whole Hog: The Prime Minister & the Pig’s Head

The British press has been having a field day with tales of Prime Minister David Cameron’s crush on a pig during his student days at Oxford. Maybe “crush” is the wrong term. How about “necrophiliac oral sex.” My tireless staff of thousands doesn’t presume to know the gory details. But it has taken notice of reports on this side of the pond — in the Daily Beast, for example, and on the Op-ed page of The New York Times. Here, as an entertaining interlude to the solemn and interminable news coverage of the Pope’s visit to New York, are the British poet-polemicist Heathcote Williams’s observations with some lovely illustrations:

The Necrophiliac Extremism of a Bestial Fellatorby Heathcote Williams

Illustration: Elena Caldera

While he was a member of an Oxford dining club,
David Cameron fucked a pig’s head.
He snorted coke in his quest for upper class girls,
And called it ‘Woodling’ when he took them to bed.

The pig’s head had been severed for a club feast.
And initiation rites of crude bestiality.
Who would have thought he’d go on to greater things
Like waging war and enforcing cruel austerity?

Pranksters have now given the pig its own Twitter handle,
‘Hashtag Piggate’, in which the pig complains
Of a nasty taste in its mouth that the future Premier
Left behind when he climaxed and came.

The Bullingdon Club is notorious for its culture
Of despising the disadvantaged and the poor.
But the ghost of a dead pig has now exposed Tory excess
And with any luck will be showing them the door.

The hapless Premier is now greeted by cries of ‘Oink!’
As supermarket bacon gives him the eye.
Captive pigs now text him in the hope of their liberation.
He regrets not keeping his penis in his fly.

People will be looking at his wife and wondering
How she matches up to a dead pig.
People will imagine his Tory chums braying and cheering
As they watch this louche necrophile frig.

But at the time it was “fun” to rape the face of a dead animal,
While dressed up in a tail-coat with silk facings.
It was fun to fuck a pig’s head while snorting white powder
It would surely add to the gaiety of nations.

At the same time this young Conservative was campaigning
For Nelson Mandela to be hanged.
Yet to fellow Tories this – and being noshed by dead pigs –
Was not in the slightest bit strange.

The hot-blooded Cameron advanced upon the pig’s head
Held between a Bullingdon diner’s thighs.
He grabbed it by the ears and plunged himself inside
Making boisterous grunts then satisfied sighs.

Later he’d callously scrap the Human Rights Act;
He’d kill twelve thousand in Libya;
He’d sell weapons to the nastiest Arab dictators
While promoting a plutocratic utopia.

Through his sharing the US fetish for bombing
Millions would seek a safe haven
But when faced by the consequences of his actions
He’d callously look in the opposite direction.

Cameron’s an avid foxhunter and a devotee of drones:
Killing animals and triggering assassination.
After sucking up to media moguls to get himself elected
They’re now savouring his pig’s reincarnation.

Heathcote Williams

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