There has been yet another revolution on the old Manor Farm. The last grand pig leader was removed from the farm house, and the new occupant, Porkie, and his trusted friends, told all the animals that things were to be completely transformed.
It was entirely the fault of the old pig leader who was always trying to help everyone and ended up wasting so much of their resources that they were in heavy debt. There were even rumours that some of their neighbouring farms might take them over. Porkie declared he would not make the same mistake. He would leave animals to sort things out. He had faith in their ability to make life better for themselves. All animals would thrive, he declared.
In time, some animals did thrive. The fat cats, who actually caused all the problems in the first place by gambling most of the farm’s money away and begged the old pig leader to help them out, had got away with not having to pay their own debt while continuing to squeeze everyone else. They got fatter by the day, and they were a shining example, said Porkie, of how animals did best when they were left alone to make their own living.
The big (“but we’re not bad”) wolves grew even bigger by renting out shelter to many wretched animals that no longer had anywhere decent to live on the farm. As more homes were mysteriously blown away by, what some secretly suspected were wolf-induced, violent storms, the big ‘nice’ wolves stepped in with an offer no one could refuse.
Down in the gutter where the latest stories about Manor Farm were spread, the rats were doing splendidly well with lots of feel-good tales about the rich and famous, and snippets about how lazy, scrounging creatures were getting their comeuppance. Together with the crocodiles and the vultures, they even set up a Weeping Fund for fluffy animals that had become destitute. The Fund raised a microscopic portion of what the Farm used to raise routinely through a collective levy, and was greatly appreciated by those few cute bunnies and guinea pigs whose ‘saved from the brink’ life story rendered them eligible for this kindly aid.
For the rest, the hardworking horses, the fatigued donkeys, the obedient sheep, the redundant goats, and many others, life sank deeper and deeper into misery. There was no hope for anything better – unless you count Rev Ron Raven III’s sermons about the wonderful Sugarcandy Mountain which would one day be reached by all who believed in his words. Some fat cats donated generously to Rev Raven to set up Sugarcandy Mountain Schools where animals were taught that blessed were those who knew how to make lots of money.
The old owl, Socrates, did not like what he saw. He warned that the farm was degenerating into a most appalling state. He urged the animals to do something before it was too late. The wolves wanted to tear the outspoken owl to shreds, but Porkie was more forgiving. Socrates, he said, was a fool and couldn’t help being dissatisfied about everything. What was important was whether he, Porkie, and his good friends, were satisfied. And they most certainly were.
