The Shire and Sydneywood Horror.

I heard an odd noise when I was walking down the lane tonight. I heard it four times, each one sounding closer until the last one seemed to be just the other side of a nearby hedge. It would be difficult to describe accurately; the nearest I could get would be to say it was a grumbling, snorting sort of noise. It didn’t sound like a horse, a cow or a sheep, and there are no pigs around here that I know of. But then I wondered…

I read once that there are wild boar at large in the British countryside, so maybe that’s what it was. I told myself that British wild boar are shy creatures which avoid human contact – nothing like the giant ones that people encounter in Australian horror films. (And doesn’t that just say something? The Chinese and Japanese have brilliant creepy ghosts in their horror stories; the Aussies have big hairy pigs. Must be all that Fosters lager.)

So anyway, I chose to trust my theory for once and completed the walk. I noticed at one point that the moon is full tonight, but I’m sure it was merely coincidental. A werepig?

Even a man who is pure in heart

And says his prayers by night

May become a pig when the pigswill flows

And the moon is full and bright

Nah. Dingoes’ kidneys, mate.