There were once three brothers, piggy-wigs all. Although they were quite cute when they were piglets, with their tiny little trotters and shiny pink noses, they grew up to be boisterous and troublesome. By the time they were teenagers, their Dad had reached the end of his tether with their raucous misbehaviour and constant squabbling so he told them to go and make their own way in the world.
The eldest of the piggy-wigs thought he had found a licence to print money when he saw an advertisement in the careers office to train as an Accountant at the local Polytechnic. He was good at sums and stuff, so immediately applied and was miraculously accepted. He quickly learned how to screw more out of a job than the effort he put in and qualified within a few short years. Even though he did not actually produce anything, he was paid £30 thousand a year and considered himself to be very important indeed. His student loan was £35k…but he tried not to think about that.
The middle brother piggy-wig, not to be outdone, enrolled in the local Law School. He enjoyed drinking games, wearing stupidly long knitted scarves and brogues. After a few short years, despite doing very little, he managed to qualify as a solicitor and secured a job with a local but thrusting practice. He left no stone unturned, no pointless letter unwritten or telephone call cut short, in his quest to preserve the tradition of doing no actual work whilst charging exorbitant fees. Even though he did not produce anything, he also was paid £30 thousand a year and considered himself to be very important indeed. His student loan was £35k…but he tried not to think about that.
The youngest of the piggy-wig brothers chose an entirely different path. He wanted to see the world and have adventures, so he took what little money his dear old Dad had given him and travelled the world. He worked in bars, fields and factories and learned to work skillfully with his hands. People he met along the way were only too happy to teach the eager young piggy-wig the wondrous lessons of life. He had very little but did not need much and as often as not gathered his food freely from the sea or from hedgerows and slept under the stars. Of course, he also mixed liberally with the lady piggy-wigs. Oh, the sights he saw and the experiences he had! But all good things must come to pass and the time came when he must return home, to settle down and maybe have a piglet family of his own. He was looking forward to telling his father and brothers of his wonderful adventures.
He arrived in his father’s house and there was no one to welcome him; his brothers were far too busy being important and his father had been sent to live in a home for old piggy-wigs who had outlived their sell by date. When he called his brothers, they had no time to talk so he went for a walk and decided to find his own place to live and a proper job. On passing by the local college, he noticed a small sign that offered courses in plumbing (and web design) and he enrolled. No stranger to work so long as it helped him achieve what he wanted, he found a part-time job as a barman in a local pub which paid for his living. Within the year, much to the amusement of his “professional” brothers, he had a qualification and embarked on his trade with enthusiasm. Despite fierce competition from Polish piggy-wigs, he was earning £30 thousand pounds a year, had no debts or anxiety but always found time to visit his brothers in the sanatorium where they were sent following their simultaneous nervous breakdowns.
There’s a moral here somewhere…but I’ll be damned if I can find it…