If you, as I, were fortunate enough to catch this weeks Britain’s Got Talent finale, you will no doubt be as delighted as I to find out that Britain in fact, does have talent, but not as much as a dog that can dance.

Although I didn’t watch all the show, as I was attending my friends birthday party, the sobering news that a dog had beaten off all human competition to claim the £500,000 prize, was enough for me to change the purpose of the celebration; instead of drinking to my friends 20 years on this planet, I was drinking to the leapfrogging of humanity by a canine, and surely our inevitable decline.

Forgive me if I’m wrong, but do dogs not have their own special talent show, where they, like their human underlings, are judged on looks, grooming, and their over rehearsed behaviour? Crufts. You know, that show that you’re vaguely aware of? It’s on T.V every year, some time during the day, when most people are at work. This is for one reason, and one reason alone – no body watches it. But, as soon as Simon Cowell endorses the same principle, well, we’ve just turned one of our 4 legged friends from an extra in an Iam’s commercial, into a multi-national mega-star.

It gets worse. Indulging one of my many guilty pleasures by reading the Daily Mail online to see how alarmed my facebook friends would be today, I came across this whopper of a headline:

‘With BGT’s magical mutt predicted to earn £10 million… Could YOUR pooch learn to dance like Pudsey?’

Ten. Million. Pounds. I bet Pedigree are rubbing their hands together. Not only has this obscene, almost inconceivable amount of money been predicted for this mutt and its owner, they give a little something to the reader too: aspiration. ‘Could YOUR pooch learn to dance like Pudsey?’ Probably not to be honest, but for a slice of that £10,000,000, I’m willing to drop out of university and give it my best shot.

This dog is not Pudsey.

Due to copyright laws, we can’t provide you with a photo of Pudsey, the dog richer than most people, so instead, here is a picture of Max, my dog. Not that I’m bitter or anything, but Max doesn’t dance.

Maybe there is something more to this. Is it right that lowly mongrel could just be propelled to stardom, torn from an obscure life of chasing its own tail? What about all those other dogs that work long, hard, days, sniffing out drugs at the airport, or helping the blind, or keeping out streets safe with the police? Are we not at risk of perverting a whole generation or pups perceptions of work and reality? We need police dogs, and all the other kind of less glamorous working dog to keep the wheels of society turning; not every doggy can be a Lassie, a Scooby Doo, or even now, a Pudsey.

Maybe I’m just missing the point. We are in recession after all; we could all do with a little light hearted, family friendly, dog related whimsy in our lives and hearts. Oh wait, no, I just remembered that the dog got £500,000, and I’m forced to subsist on super-noodles.