[Spoken Intro – dry British female voice, casual] “Just to be clear— he's not competing. We're literally just here to watch.” [Brief pause] “Yes, he's a Beagle.” [Immediate upbeat punk riff] [Verse 1 – fast playful female punk vocal] Walked in through the side gate, Doogie trotting next to me, Hundred dogs and folding tables, people taking this seriously. Brushes, leads and little numbers, everyone knows where to stand, Doogie smells a bag of biscuits— that's apparently his plan. Turn around for half a second, someone wearing official blue Says, “Beagles are assembling,” takes one look and waves him through. I say, “No, he's not competing!” Woman points across the hall. Doogie follows three more Beagles— [Shout-sung] HE DOESN'T GIVE A SHIT AT ALL! [Chorus – big cheerful punk vocal] DOOGIE'S IN THE DOG SHOW! HE WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE! HE'S GOT NO NUMBER! NO ROUTINE! NO FUCKING PEDIGREE! DOOGIE'S IN THE DOG SHOW! AND HE'S SOMEHOW IN THE RING! I CAME HERE JUST TO WATCH THIS— HOW THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN?! [Bright energetic guitar hook] [Verse 2 – quick storytelling vocal] Handler checks his posture. Doogie checks the handler's hand. Other dogs are standing perfectly. Doogie doesn't understand. Everyone begins to circle, nice and steady, nice and clean. Doogie stops to smell the carpet halfway round in front of everyone. Come on, mate. Please keep moving. There's a judge right fucking there. Doogie finally starts again— then finds something on a chair. Now he's pulling toward the biscuits, I'm apologising from the side, While a woman with a clipboard looks completely satisfied. [Pre-Chorus – playful build] She checks his ears. She checks his paws. Doogie thinks this game is great. Then the judge reaches in her pocket— [Shout-sung] OH FUCK. SHE'S GOT A TREAT. [Chorus – bigger] DOOGIE'S IN THE DOG SHOW! HE'S ABANDONED EVERY PLAN! HE'S FOLLOWING THE FUCKING JUDGE AND STARING AT HER HAND! DOOGIE'S IN THE DOG SHOW! HE'S NOT DOING WHAT THEY SAY! BUT EVERYBODY KEEPS ON SMILING, SO APPARENTLY THAT'S OKAY! [Instrumental Break – playful melodic guitar lead] [Verse 3 – fast melodic vocal] Eventually they sort it out. Someone finally checks the list. “No registration?” No. “No handler?” Me, apparently, against my wish. Judge is laughing. Doogie's happy. I prepare to take him home. Then they call us back a minute later before we fucking go. Not a placement. Not a title. Nothing anybody planned. Just a little stupid ribbon someone's holding in their hand. “Special mention: Most Enthusiastic.” Yeah. That sounds about right. Doogie takes another biscuit like he's trained for this his whole life. [Bridge – warm melodic punk vocal] He didn't sit when they wanted. Didn't walk the proper line. Didn't understand the contest. Had a fucking brilliant time. Every other dog looked gorgeous, standing proud beneath the lights. Mine found three dropped bits of sausage. Honestly? He had the better night. [Final Chorus – huge joyful punk vocal] DOOGIE WON THE DOG SHOW! WELL— TECHNICALLY HE DIDN'T WIN! BUT HE'S GOT A FUCKING RIBBON, SO I'M COUNTING THAT FOR HIM! DOOGIE WON THE DOG SHOW! DON'T YOU FUCKING CHECK THE FACTS! HE WALKED IN WITHOUT AN ENTRY AND CAME OUT WITH A FUCKING SNACK! NO NUMBER! NO PLAN! NO IDEA WHAT HE'D DONE! JUST A BEAGLE AT A DOG SHOW HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUCKING FUN! [Final upbeat guitar riff] [Outro – spoken female voice, amused] “We're keeping the ribbon.” [Final hit]
