An infant was found abandoned in the wild and was raised collectively in a small Irish village. The villagers named him "Billy" but gave him no surname. When he turned 18, Billy decided he wanted a last name too. The parish priest told Billy that the village elders would gather and assign him a surname.
"They might name you after an attribute, like Strong or Wise. Or maybe some task you've accomplished here, like Thatcher or Fisher," the priest informed him.
That afternoon the elders met. Evening came and the priest found Billy in the tavern, weeping into his pint. "There, there," the priest said. "Don't weep, Billy, I'm sure the Pigfucker name will live on for generations."
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