​When I was around 12 years old I got bitten by a pig while I was on a walk in Cornwall. Not 10 minutes before this event, on the same walk, my friend Jemima got bitten by her dog, spraying blood from her elbow everywhere (details of this story may have been influenced by childhood exaggeration) causing me to briefly faint. We patched Jemima up, got me to my feet and went on our merry way. Later down the road we came across a pig pen, to cheer me up and distract me from my prior fainting spell my mother pointed out the pigs.

 

 "Awh look Beth, Pigs, how cute". We all proceeded to reach into the pen and stroke the pigs. One of these creatures must have taken a particular disliking to me and chomped down hard on my forearm. I yelped, we all jumped back in shock, and there before us in big red letters on the pen was a sign that read, "DO NOT STROKE THE PIGS, THEY MAY BITE".

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From that day forward my friend Jemima was christened Dog Meat, and I, PIG MEAT.

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