Resident Chump inherited a huge quantity of pig food at an early age and invested in a series of elaborate luxury pig farms for terminally undereducated pigs. The market was vast and, despite accusation of betrayal of his own kind (SPECIES-IST FAKERY!), his invention was adopted by many piggeries, more piggeries than ever before, probably. Think about it – more piggeries were using the now-patented Chump technology than had ever used it before! Ever in porcine history!
MERCY!
Success bred success until pigs themselves begged for mercy. Pigs would come up to him and say “Please, Mr Pig Chump, sir, please, we are having too much success with piggeries! Please stop us from being so successful!” They would then form orderly queues to try to kiss him. All of this he took in his porcine trot, except when the pigs were miners. Those he kept at a distance. Apparently.
BOTTOM!
However, one day the explosive bottom fell out of the pig market and Resident Chump lost his entire investment. Chump was disgraced as his operation was revealed to be no more than an exploitative pig-pyramid, where stupid pigs would seek out even-more-stupid pigs to maintain the expansion of the bogus piggery empire. Disgrace. Ruin. A strict, if unavoidable, diet of corn husks.
MINERS!
For most of the subsequent years Chump has focussed on charitable works for fallen miners, helping them struggle back into the daylight after years spent toiling underground in filthy, disgusting, cavernous, unspeakably horrid hellholes inspired only by pigs who hate our country and who want to dilute the proud pig race by infesting it with foreign bodies.
PORKBALLS!
Chump was rewarded for his efforts with his own TV show ‘Porkballs’, in which his gold-embossed sty was beamed around the world 24 hours per day. Convinced that Chump was a fat pig, addicted pig-fans tuned in daily to monitor his every fart, belch and expulsion of bodily waste. The staggering rewards made Chump into a global figure and pigs of average size queued to deposit large sums of cash into his luxury sty, in the hope that some of his business acumen or bodily fluids would wash off upon them and make them larger.
RUDE!
Now returned to rude good health, if seriously obese, Chump eats his own body weight in hamburgers four times per day, and sometime more. Driven only by ambition and burgeoning lawsuits, Chump is spending his twilight years nostalgic for his former glory days, when global pigs were at his beck and snort, when world pig-leaders stood ready to carry out his every wish at the merest twitch of his curly tail. Chump’s faithful, if ordure-besmirched, retainers The Quiet Piggies spend their days cleaning up after him and feeding him the thick pancakes to which he has long become addicted. His favourite colour is orange, and his star sign is McDonalds.
Return to Resident Chump’s home sty