On the one hand said Billy, Reagan could place his finger on the button which could commit the entire world to nuclear war, while on the other hand, Connolly’s dad was no longer allowed access to the remote control for the television. It was very much tongue in cheek, but after spending some time looking for Channel 4 Plus over the weekend I began to see there was a degree of logic in that statement.

I was searching for television coverage of Crufts, which for years was hosted by the Beeb until it got the wind up after a programme exposing the creeps who allegedly breed freaky dogs in the hope of getting the elusive big prize-winning pup.

After a bit of a fiddle with remote control buttons, up came Crufts on the screen and the Grey Hooligan and I settled back on the sofa to enjoy the spectacle. GH likes Crufts and a few other programmes which feature dogs, though he objects to watching One Man and his Dog as he considers this to be exploitation. Nature programmes where lions eat zebras un-nerve him and he hides in a corner.

As any Crufts fan will tell you, dog breeders and showing folk take it all very seriously and one should not take the mick in their hearing. We once had a dear rellie who worked very hard to achieve her lifetime ambition to show a terrier of some obscure type at Crufts. It was a very big deal for her though of lesser appeal to the dog, who I suspect found it all a bore. No big cups or rosettes came their way, but said rellie came home from Crufts laden with heaps of high-priced tat from the stalls in the exhibition hall, and spent some time reflecting that it was a lot of time and money for not very long in the show ring.

I have never owned a pedigree pooch, nor, I might say, have I any ambition to do so. I do not have a pedigree so cannot imagine why my dog should need one. Three of my last four dogs were sourced in Bannerfield and have been absolute toppers, while two more arrived via the police dog pound having succeeded with the big sad eyes number shortly before they were due to receive one of the services a certain major animal charity fails to mention in their constant demands for money.

We are a nation of dog owners and this is part of the better side of the British character. One only has to take a serious look at the people who think they have nothing better to do than demonise dog owners because of the indiscretions of a small minority to see that if they get their way, virtually all our personal freedoms will be gradually eroded until we live in a society similar to that in Orwell’s 1984.

I am no different from many other people who find the over-primped and coiffed dogs of the Crufts show ring absurd, but they are no different to the weird birds who mince up and down the catwalk at fashion shows, or even those who choose to dress according the trends.

Me? My dog is a mongrel and so am I, so all you breed snobs can take us as we are, or leave us alone.