The hog had the Mayor's chain. It even sat on his velvet-cushioned chair.
'It doesn't suit you,' East said, arms folded behind his back, 'Black matted fur or whatever it is you have over your pork, it doesn't suit gold. Certainly not the chain of office.'
The boar snorted and padded its two front hooves. East turned sharply.
'You're Christmas dinner, you realise that! No, wait! You're not even that, you're Boxing Day leftovers! Ham sandwiches! Pigs in a blanket! Now give me it back!'
He clawed at the pig's neck but its tusks were out. East raised his hands and shifted over to the intercom near the office door.
'Beatrice,' he spoke into it, 'How could they do this to me? They deliberately sent a malevolent boar.'
It hummed and clicked before responding. 'The farm people are on their way, sir. Traffic's bad on the M3 apparently.'
The hog snuffled one of the chair's armrest.
'You better not get snot on that lacquer! Foul beast!'
East collapsed in a guest chair.
'As far as power plays go, I have to remark this is the longest I've ever experienced. So, well done in that respect.'
The boar gazed at him with its black beady eyes.
'You wear that for much longer, you'll be in the job, you know? Officially.'
The pig stood up again. East rubbed his eyes. A clack, a rattle, another clack. The chain was now on the carpet.
Mayor East's laugh was delayed. 'Good choice.'