It’s been fifteen years since a fictional British Prime Minister walked into a room with a pig and changed television forever.
Most people remember The National Anthem as "that pig episode." It’s the one you tell your friends to skip if they have a weak stomach, or the one you use as a litmus test to see if someone can handle the rest of Charlie Brooker’s dystopian anthology. But looking back at it now, the gross-out factor isn’t actually the point. Honestly, the pig is a distraction.
The real horror isn't what Michael Callow does on screen. It’s what we do while we’re watching him.
The Most Audacious Pilot in History
When Black Mirror first aired on Channel 4 in late 2011, nobody knew what to expect. The trailers were vague. They hinted at a political thriller. Then, the premise hit like a physical punch: Princess Susannah, a beloved royal (think a modern-day Princess Di), is kidnapped. The ransom? Prime Minister Michael Callow must have "full sexual intercourse" with a pig on live, unedited television.
No money. No political demands. Just a total, public humiliation.
📖 Related: Who is Really in the Enola Holmes 2 Cast? A Look at the Faces Behind the Mystery
Charlie Brooker originally thought of this idea years earlier with broadcaster Terry Wogan as the victim. He eventually realized that a Prime Minister made for a much better target because of the inherent power dynamic. You've got the most powerful man in the country being reduced to something less than human by an anonymous figure with a YouTube account.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Plot
There’s a common misconception that the episode is just a "tech is bad" warning. It’s not. In fact, compared to later episodes like San Junipero or Nosedive, the technology in The National Anthem is barely there. It’s just YouTube and Twitter. There are no brain implants or digital consciousnesses. It’s grounded.
Basically, the plot follows three distinct movements:
- The Denial: Callow and his team try to use a "D-Notice" to stop the press from reporting the kidnapping. They try to fake the footage using a porn star named Rod Senseless and some clever CGI.
- The Turning Point: The kidnapper—revealed later as Turner Prize-winning artist Carlton Bloom—sees through the ruse. He sends a severed finger to a news station. Public opinion, which originally supported Callow’s refusal, flips instantly. Suddenly, 86% of the public demands he "save the Princess" by doing the deed.
- The Act: Callow realizes he has no choice. His own party and even the Royal Family won't protect him if the Princess dies because he was too proud to be humiliated.
The "failing" of the government here isn't a lack of tech. It’s the fact that they are slaves to the "vibe" of social media. They aren't leading; they're reacting to a trending hashtag.
👉 See also: Priyanka Chopra Latest Movies: Why Her 2026 Slate Is Riskier Than You Think
The Twist That Actually Matters
If you haven't watched it in a while, you might have forgotten the cruelest part of the ending. Princess Susannah was released 30 minutes before the broadcast even started.
Carlton Bloom let her go on the Millennium Bridge. She wandered around, perfectly fine. But here’s the kicker: nobody noticed. The streets of London were a ghost town. Every single person—the police, the journalists, the cheering crowds in the pubs—was glued to a screen.
The "art piece" Bloom created wasn't the sex act. It was the fact that he proved humanity would rather watch a man be destroyed than look out the window and save a life. Bloom kills himself during the broadcast, having successfully staged the "first great work of art of the 21st century."
Why We Still Talk About Piggate
You can't talk about Black Mirror: The National Anthem without mentioning "Piggate." In 2015, four years after the episode aired, an unauthorized biography of David Cameron alleged that he had... well, done something involving a dead pig during a university initiation rite.
✨ Don't miss: Why This Is How We Roll FGL Is Still The Song That Defines Modern Country
The internet lost its mind. #Piggate trended for days. Charlie Brooker had to go on record stating he had absolutely no prior knowledge of the rumor. It was a freak coincidence that made the episode feel like a prophecy.
But even without the real-world scandal, the episode feels more relevant in 2026 than it did in 2011. We live in an era of "main character syndrome" and public cancellations. We love to watch someone in power get dragged through the mud. We tell ourselves we’re doing it for "justice" or "morality," but usually, we’re just refresing the feed for the next hit of dopamine.
How the Episode Ranks Today
Critics usually put The National Anthem somewhere in the middle of their Black Mirror rankings. Esquire once put it at #2, while others find it too "edgy" for its own good.
- The Acting: Rory Kinnear is incredible. You can feel the sweat and the nausea. He doesn't play it for laughs; he plays it like a man whose soul is being slowly crushed.
- The Tone: It’s a "black comedy" played as a straight drama. That's why it's so uncomfortable. There are no punchlines.
- The Legacy: It set the "handbrake turn" style for the series. One minute you're watching a political thriller, the next you're in a surreal nightmare.
Actionable Insights: How to Watch (or Rewatch)
If you're diving back into this or introducing a friend, don't focus on the gross parts. Look at the background characters.
- Watch the crowds in the pubs. Notice how they go from laughing and filming with their phones to looking genuinely sickened. That’s the audience’s journey.
- Pay attention to the journalist, Malaika. Her character represents the "anything for the scoop" mentality that fuels the fire. She literally trades nude photos for insider info, only to get shot in the leg during a botched raid.
- Look at the one-year-later epilogue. Callow’s approval ratings are up. He’s a "hero." But his wife won't even look at him. The public "forgave" him, but his private life is a wasteland.
The best way to experience The National Anthem today is to view it as a critique of the Voyeur Economy. We think we are just observers, but by watching, we are the ones holding the camera.
For your next viewing, pair it with Shut Up and Dance (Season 3) or White Bear (Season 2). Those three episodes form a "Human Cruelty Trilogy" that explains Brooker’s worldview better than any of the sci-fi stuff ever could. Focus on the theme of public complicity; it’s the thread that ties the entire series together.