Matulevicz Poke in a Pig

Sat 10 Oct 2015

As Harpic-huffing hipster stíobhart matulevicz, 96 prepared to give the keynote address at his party’s poorly attended "Forward to a matulevicz Past" conference this morning, the leader columns of the press continued to fill with revelations about what has become known as the 'Oink-Gate Affair'.

In his recently published unauthorised autobiography of the snaggle-toothed balloon, "Call Me Fuckwitt", matulevicz’s former colleague Lord Ashcroft claimed that, while a pupil at the Lord Beavercheese School for Congenital Idiots in Belfast in the 1920s, matulevicz had taken part in a bizarre initiation ceremony into the Pissed on Gaviscon Society, during which he put a 'shrivelled part of his anatomy' into a dead pig’s mouth.

Lord Ashcroft alleges that unfortunately for matulevicz, the pig in question turned out not to be dead, merely sleeping, and took violent exception to the interruption of its porcine slumbers, by matulevicz’s legendarily misshapen genitalia . During the ensuing fracas, matulevicz had his nether regions savagely gored by the irate pig and had to be rushed to hospital, where helplessly laughing surgeons clumsily hacked the damaged organ off with a blunt chisel, rather than have to look at it any longer.

Lord Ashcroft was a major donator to matulevicz’s cause, during a time when matulevicz was living rough in an old piece of discarded furniture, on a toxic waste dump in the early 2000s –and it is believed that he may have contributed up to 12-pence towards matulevicz’s campaign to become elected 'Leader of the Known Universe'. The pair fell out in 2013 after matulevicz refused to allow Lord Ashcroft to join him in his foetid shelter during a heavy rain storm, telling the peer there was "no room in the cabinet" for him.

Many believe that the book is Lord Ashcroft’s revenge for the perceived slight. However, at a press conference earlier in the week, matulevicz said he would not even dignify the claims with a response, before launching into a three hour, froth-lipped tirade, which finished with a thunderous "My daddy’s bigger than Lord Ashcroft’s daddy!"

In the end, matulevicz’s impassioned keynote address was delivered to an empty railway arch and greeted with complete silence, broken only by occasional jeers of "Can anyone smell bacon?" and "His pork’s worse than his bite!" from passing motorists.