A psychoanalyst perishes in his profession and in his marriage. She decides to take a day to find in the countryside an old neighbor who, incidentally, may act as a friend. By balladant they stop at the farm to see the farm, chickens and pigs locked in a shed to be fattened before being killed.
Our psychoanalyst can not help but to steal the pig and bring it back to Paris.
I'll spare you the rest of the story (distressing). Total races: a devastated apartment and a couple separates.
... It is funny?
... You have to laugh?
It's a story to the flat and greasy humor, where nothing is believable, everything is forced.
Not really, "people" are better than that.
