Elsa the Loser Poodle

My God it’s hard to get up this morning…last week I was waking up in the bright Floridian sunshine with Volcano views and an on site Starbucks (this is very important as we well know); today, I was awoken by an agitated Jordan in the worlds most expensive Ibis on an industrial estate in dreary Birmingham. Oh what a difference a week makes; apparently Jordan would rather be here than “dragged to theme parks in Florida” (hmmm, I may leave her at home for the next trip in that case; poor thing suffering with 6 monthly ‘once in a lifetime’ vacations).

So yes…it’s that time of year again…time for dog lovers all around the world to flock to the apparent Mecca for show dogs; it’s Crufts 2025!!

Jordan’s heaven…Deans hell; I’m only here for morale support and the odd sarcastic comment…there’s no coasters, no characters and no merch for me to piss away money on…ahhh what’s the point??!!

Right yes so where was I? Ahhh yes the hotel. Crufts brings mildly overinflated prices (well I assume they are…can’t imagine an Ibis faring well year round with the price we paid for a night). Guess how much I paid to stay in a bloody Ibis? Go on…I’ll give you a minute.

Ok, you guessed yet??…well, if you guessed £300 you would be correct. £300 for a bloody night? Actually, £300 for 6 bloody hours…that’s £50 an hour…sure it would have been cheaper to spend the night at a brothel; and I may have even had a cuddle thrown in (aww…poor Dean). Couldn’t even stock up on toiletries and freebies…they were all stuck to the wall…smooth move Ibis.

Right…see you later, Hotel…I’ll miss your rock hard bed and lack of pillows…ahhh, that was a great nights sleep. Ok, so here’s the real reason I went into debt for a hotel room…the convenience. We’re an industrial states walkway away from the NEC, which means; no fighting for parking, no walking miles and no hassle…well, less hassle anyways. We make the brief journey to the arena, scan in and make our way to Poodle corner. Bloody hell, only 7am and there are already camp sites set up; rings of dog crates, deck chairs and some hipster looking bloke breaking out an acoustic guitar…all ready for the day.

Madness…the classic giant green rings set up as the Poodles owners begin to psych their dogs up to compete. Full of overconfident Poodles staring each other down ready for a face off in the ring. “Dad, I’m gonna completely fuck that one up over there…Poodley looking bitch; get my brass knuckles warmed up”. Bloody hell Elsa, chill out, it’s not that sort of competition, you can’t get blood over your newly washed bright white hair anyway…and don’t call me Dad; you know we can’t have people thinking we like each other.

Right…disappointed that Elsa would not be competing in the new Crufts fight club today (or did we? What’s the first rule of Poodle Fight Club??), we head to get set up for the day of sitting, and waiting, and running, and sitting, and waiting, and running, and sitting…ahhh you get the pattern. Like I said…no bloody space left at all…the early morning Poodle rope droppers had secured prime location and marked the rest of the space for their besties to huddle together and bitch about the substandard rapscallions that follow.

Place is mad, some lovely people here, but also some right dickheads that will make snide comments for parking up too close to an ‘exit’. Umm, just go around, not like we’re a bloody fire hazard…we’re in a bloody show ring…go sort your Poodle out and shut up mun. Ok, maybe we’ll shuffle over just a little bit.

Forgoing her morning stretches and exercise, Jordan manages a breathless practice run around the Crufts show ring with Elsa looking disappointed that she can’t manage 20 ft without almost going into a respiratory arrest. Deep breaths Jordan…and GO!! Bugger, tore her ACL…oh wait, no, just catching her breath. Few more practice runs I think, can’t have you collapsing at show time Jo. Spoiler: this was some pretty spectacular foreshadowing as we later find.To be fair she keeps nagging me to run around a ring and show Elsa, but I worry it may increase my masculinity levels…can’t have that now can we.

Ok…so I’m Sergio fuckossed today; completely bloody knackered (kind of like I’ve gone straight from working 21 days, to a busy vacation, straight back to work, and then to Crufts…oh wait). Time for a morning pick me up…and so the hunt for a reasonably priced coffee and breakfast ensues.

Reasonably priced? At Crufts…good one Dean, some hilarious content there. £4 a coffee…not too bad, £4.50 a slice of cake; ummm…no thanks, sure I saw a loaf of the same lemon drizzle at Costco for £6 a few weeks back…the curse of a Costco card; knowing how much of a markup these vendors put on cake and pastry. Can’t say I blame them…prime time to pillage extra coinage from hungry punters I guess. £6 brioche roll…ffs, just give me two and don’t think about it Dean; Disney prices at an Industrial Estate in Birmingham…magical.

No such rolls were consumed…I just sat in quiet spite and hunger…I wish I was back in Florida.

As the day begins…dogs start kicking off as the opening ceremony commences…the Poodles prance around the ring whilst Jordan lies motionless in the middle, still catching her breath from her run 30 minutes earlier…crickey Jo, are you ok?

Fire erupts as last years Head Poodle bursts through a ring of fire to the classic AC/DC banger: ‘Hells Bells’. The crowd goes wild, the Poodles all bow as a mark of respect and then the lights dim and a Poodle rave kicks off…ahh it was madness; and that’s just the opening ceremony…the after party will be insane I bet.

WAKE UP DEAN!!! Oh no, it was all a dream…bugger!! Back to a boring non fire, non rave…Jordan is still passed out in the middle of the ring mind; best get up soon love…you get to do it all again soon.

Time to prepare then…showtime is a short 4 hours or so away (or so I assume from the fun we had sitting and waiting last year). Jo and Elsa start prepping…well, Jordan preps Elsa whilst Elsa does her very best to make it just a little more difficult. “Stop bloody wiggling mun Elsa”…guess I should stop encouraging her; it is getting more funny the more frustrated Jordan gets mind 🙄.

Fed up of Elsa acting like a right wiggly dickhead, Jo goes off for a dramatic ‘Stars In Their Eyes’ style change (I’m sure no one under 30 will get that reference)…’Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be…”Beeftits!!”’. Wait what?! That was all Jordan…none of my input there…I’m not even going to explain, I’ll let you all ponder.

OK Ok…she had no pockets to store Elsa’s beef treats…where do you think they ended up?

Clouds of hairspray and fluff encompass the Poodle holding area whilst a flurry of busy Poodle people prep their dogs like they are about the enter the ‘Miss Poodle-icious 2025’ competition…the new competition for Crufts this year; I suspect it may also be the last with most competitors suffering death from hairspray asphyxiation. This, mixed with nervous farts from both Jordan and Elsa…this was quickly becoming a regrettable day out…and Jordan complains about being whisked off to theme parks 🙄.

Worried about potential DVT’s, I did manage to get up and go off for a peruse around the Exhibition Centre…bloody hell; who’d have thought? Everything was to do with dogs!! Masses and masses of dog stalls; toys, food, healthcare…everything. It’s really a sight to behold…the event is even monitored by Police Dogs; not sure if it’s a gimmick, but I did see one take down a rogue Husky and cuff the bitch. “Hey you there…PAWS!!”(get it…like ‘pause’; ah you think of some punny joke then…). Dogs with jobs ey?…

Highlights of my tour were the ‘bribe your dog with cheese’ training class, and the ‘select your next dog area’; aka meet the breed. Yep…there is a specially designed area outside of the masses of shops and dog dancing comps to see which dog tickles your fancy to annoy your spouse. Don’t even bother looking Dean…I know my fate is doomed by Poodles for the foreseeable. Oooo gun dogs? You mean there is a breed of gun carrying dogs? Mental…guess they are direct police recruits. There was a mental long line to meet the dogs though…saw less of a queue for Velocicoaster last week; absolute mayhem here.

Quick browse over the random dancing dogs…pretty talented, but suspect they were being coerced by a pocket full of treats the way the dancing Poodle was glued to the handlers pocket. To be fair…if you kept a pocket full of sweets and chocolate, Alaska and Gray would follow you around; it’s how we train them…we’re still working on it.

Back at base, a cloud of nervous farts had now become visible around Elsa and Jo as the time to enter the ring was getting closer. A few last minute touch ups, and ‘Hearts on Fire’ begins playing as the ring announcer calls Jordan’s group to the ring…this is it, don’t fuck it up guys.

Here we go then…it’s that time again, time for dogs to get molestered in the name of sport and competition…shape up Elsa, time to get fingered by a woman in red. It all goes wrong…Elsa disapproves and beats Jordan in the ‘run like a dickhead’ portion of the class, Jordan almost face plants the floor and unfortunately they don’t place. I was Shocked!! 🙄

Should have done a few more practice runs…Elsa is complete wank at this show dog running malarkey. Poor Jo almost feinted in the ring in an attempt to preempt loss at Elsa’s embarrassing form. Sacked off, on to the next round.

Enter round 2…FIGHT!!! No not really Elsa, put the knives and brass knuckles down!!

Surprise surprise…to no one…Elsa bottles it again; but Jordan stays vertical this time…clearly Elsa’s fault…time to retire her for a proper dog I reckon. Maybe one of these gun carrying lot…they seem cool; and the class event is archery.

Few chats, Jordan catches up with some mates that have actually won something in Crufts…ya know, just to rub it in. Elsa fumes, Jordan fights back the tears…Dean yawns in boredom.

Few laps of the NEC…funny enough Jordan finally found her fitness levels and run me ragged around the place. Where the hell was this in the ring??…maybe she was just faking it for sympathy and judge votes…didn’t work but hey, it’s worth a go.

Jordan tries to reaffirm her lies that we aren’t allowed to leave until 4.30, which I know from last year is in fact…a lie. Honestly, I think the place would be full of angry punters lining at the doors like Hagrids at rope drop. I do bloody wish people would not stop us to look at Elsa though…I really want to leave and she’s a loser; don’t waste your time. To be fair she looked great…Jo really did a great job at turd polishing with her.

Quickly avoid being touted by the hipster lineup of the Butternut stalls; apparently in order to work for them you need to dress in linen, wear a shark tooth around you neck, rock a pair of flip flops and have done a gap year somewhere travelling Asia. Thanks but no thanks, you’ve already bled poor Jordan dry and duped her last year into extortionate monthly purchases…we don’t even eat that well!!

Right, gates finally open, time to find our stuff and make a move…if I can get past the crowds waiting for exit rope drop. Had a decent day despite Elsa’s loserdom…time for the long trip home.