Piglet.

So there I was, munching away on panne au chocolat… But before I get into it, I’ll let you know about the boy behind the struggle, me, Francoise Le Petite Couchon. I was twelve years of age and the rise of the III Reich was upon the world and it was not prepared.

I lived alone with my dear father, Michelle, in the Paris room of the house of France, dominated by the stench of camembert and garlic yet the French stench was overthrown by the English house waft of lager and cigars.

Onto my story…  At this stage, our house held a great animosity to our German neighbours and at this stage conversation was also laconic. It was unusual for me to enjoy the French garden at this time but I needed some fun and alone time so I decided to play a game of football. In the distance, I spied the Polish house, where Mr Podolski lived, being viciously approached by a pack of wolves, meerkat Mussolini, and the Führer. Quickly and without mercy, Hitler wolf huffed, and puffed, and blew the dumpling built Polish house up.

I ran back into the house as quickly as my little trotters could carry me, I found my father and told him  what I had seen.

“Papa, papa, Mr Podolski’s house was blown away, it was Mr Hitler and his wolves, they blew it straight down, we need to leave now papa, before we end up like Mr Podolski.”

“Mr Podolski’s house was not built as strong as ours, these French built croissant walls have never been blown down, don’t worry Francoise, we’ll be fine.”

Despite my protestations, papa wouldn’t leave, convinced our house was strong enough to withstand Hitler’s attack. I could hear them marching towards us, I could hear their claws scratching at the ground, their paws squelching through the coffee moist soil. It wasn’t long before Hitler Wolf knocked on our door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Let me in little piggies, I have brought gifts of wine and cheese, please let me in.” said Hitler wolf, with unconvincing politeness.

“Never Hitler Wolf, not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” Said my father.

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house up.”

I ran, as fast as my little trotters could carry me, jumping through the back window. I thought my father was behind me, surely now accepting the French house couldn’t hold out. But the time I looked back, my house had been destroyed, and my father was nowhere to be seen. All my time at the French residence I was awaiting my fathers company to play football, something we would now never do.

All I could think to do was run to the British house, to warn Mr Churchill, I couldn’t think about my father. I jumped over the white fence of Dover, and ran to the British house, made up of cups of tea built up precariously. I knocked on the door, and Churchill pig appeared, bulging with a cigar in his mouth.

“What do you want little pig? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“My home is gone, it was blown up by Hitler wolf, he’ll do the same here unless you make your house stronger.”

Churchill looked down on me, and considered me, before saying “A pig does what he must-inspite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures-and that is the basis of all pig morality.” I wasn’t sure what he meant at the time, but goddamn I was willing to help the British house.

So Mr Churchill and me got to work, building up defences, making the British house the strongest house there had ever been… We built it out of British made tin, coming from tins of baked beans. It wasn’t long before Hitler Wolf came knocking at the British Door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Let me in little piggies, I’ve brought you gifts of mustard and the ever-popular BBC 1 soap opera Eastenders.” Said Hitler.

“Never Hitler Wolf” boomed Churchill pig, “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin”

“Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house up.”

And Hitler wolf huffed, and puffed, and his wolves huffed, and puffed.  And Mussolini Meerkat huffed, and puffed (though he was a bit rubbish.) But together they could not blow the house up, even the best bombs from Germany could not blow up that house.

This was the beginning of the Nazi Party becoming moribund