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A pig/human hybrid has told The Advocate that his recent experiences with Jetstar have left him longing for the days when he flew Tiger because even though the experience was often just as bad – there was a base level of dignity present.

Both Jetstar and Tiger are (and were) creations of the free market. Everywhere in the world, there will be other pig/human hybrids that are looking for a no-frills flying experience that simply promises that they won’t kill you between your home and your destination.

However, there was only room for one.

“Flying on Jetstar makes me miss Tiger,” said pig/human hybrid Jean-Paul Pooley.

“At least with Tiger, a pig like me got shuffled on and shuffled off without too much hassle. If you booked a flight, it more often than not turned up on the day and took you where you wanted to go. It might be delayed by a few hours but who doesn’t like wasting their lives away in an airport food court?”

“With Jetstar, they tell you to come to the airport, then just shrug when the plane doesn’t turn up. Come back tomorrow, maybe, they say. Or they reckon it’s coming, you just need to wait. Then it never shows up. Then you go home and put on some soft rock. Maybe a bit of Air Supply or something. Turn the lights down, light a few candles. Then go ahead and proceed to fuck yourself slowly but with a deep erotic purpose that’d send a shiver down the spine of even the most straight-laced simpleton. No flying for you, pig,”

“Not with Tiger. They’d let you board the plane, take you somewhere, then refuse to let you off. You’d ask for water, and the hostess would say it’s $7 or you’re welcome to drink your own piss, you mouth-breathing broke bitch. I like that. They gave you a bit of agency. You’d think, actually, I might go and do it in my own seat. I’m going to piss in my own mouth, like an adult,”

“Sure, there’s Bonza now, but they’re too nice to you. They can’t survive in this market when you have to treat people like boy pigs. The boys are worthless, for your information; they’re only good for meat. So they’re force-fed gruel and antibiotics. Same as me. Flying on Bonza is like having to take a shit in the surf. It’s OK, and it’s better than having to paddle in and do it between two Pajeros in the car park, but it still doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m just spitballing here. I just miss Tiger.”

More to come.


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