28 June 2009
a fellow pigophile: adam curtis
It’s a miracle he’s allowed out, never mind that he dwells happily amid the ponderous, right-on bureaucracies and the archival bowels of the BBC. His entire career consists of telling people that everything they know and think is wrong, that reality is beyond their reach, that everything they touch dissolves on contact.
“So what,” I ask him, pointing at a curious pink pig, about three inches long, on his lapel, “is that?”
“It’s a pig. Sometimes a pig is just a pig.” (from here - thanks Bat).
