THERE'S NO BIZ LIKE SHOW BIZ.....

It must be wonderful being a father and having your son follow in your foot steps. I wouldn’t know. I was too rich to have a father. Even sadder, I have no progeny – male, female or “other” – who I can hope will follow in my chosen career – as producer of, “Blowjobs for The Rich and Famous.”

There have been many famous father/son teams: John Adams and John Quincy; Evil and Evil, Jr. of daredevil fame; Philip DeGeneres and his son, Ellen; Alexander the Great and Herman the Below Average; and joining this illustrious group is Olivier and Yohann Roussel. You might not be familiar with the Roussel’s but they are household names in Trie-Sur-Baise, France.

They are local celebrities. Even more revered than Gary Coleman. Show business is in their blood. Grandpa Maurice was famous for his impersonation of Edith Piaf. Okay, the old guy liked to dress in drag which doesn’t make him a bad person. Yohann and Olivier’s performance climaxed in a cacophony of oinks and grunts, unleashing an explosion of applause as this father-and-son team were declared France’s official Pig-Squealing Champions of 2005.

For those ignorant fools who just think a person has to oink loudly to win a pig-squealing contest, sit back and learn something about this very old and delicate art. The crowd and panel of judges were amazed and impressed by the Roussel’s vocal imitations of pigs in all four of the required categories, reflecting key milestones of porcine existence: from noisy farmyard birth to death under the knife, via suckling and – inevitably – mating. Rich Little would be too chicken to enter this pig competition.

France’s handful of “fetes follies,” or crazy festivals, attract a regular cult following and throngs of thousands of holidaymakers. One fete features an acclaimed lying contest; another boasts a long distance spitting competition. This is proof that the French not only are anti-American but imbeciles to boot.

But the annual Pig Festival and French Pig-Squealing Championships in Trie-sur-Baise, a remote farming village in the foothills of the Pyrenees, are acknowledged to be in a class of their own. The fun doesn’t stop with the oinks and grunts, no siree, besides the pig-squealing, there were awards in the Sunday competition for pigging-out – this year’s winner ate nearly 4 feet of blood sausage in under five minutes – and heavy gambling on the final eight-piglet race. ESPN will probably cover the event and I’m willing to bet that Paris Hilton will be invited next year as Queen Pig.

Stepping up to the microphone in hastily improvised pig outfits – the decision to enter the competition had been taken only the night before as pere Olivier and young Yohann were having sex with an artichoke ( Olivier believes a family that humps veggies together stays together) – the Roussels let rip with a chorus of uncannily realistic squeals, grunts and snuffles before the packed house, topped with a delicately choreographed courtship scene. Oh, to have been there…..

These two talented but humble Frenchies happily collected their first prize: a whole pig butchered and cured with local spices including amphetamine and hash.
“We still have work to do to perfect the pig act,” said Olivier, 40, his 20-year old son Yohann nodding agreement. “But after that, who knows? Why not try other animals?” Why not indeed? They could probably become the AFLAC duck without even breaking a sweat. Ed Sullivan must be turning over in his grave wishing he had an audience to introduce the Roussels from.

I don’t know about you but I’m booking a suite in the local 5-star pig-sty for next year’s fete.