Yorkshire Terrier

Guest Reviewer: Sarah Morrison

The entire unpleasant character of the Yorkshire Terrier has been developed by the fact that it is small enough to fit snugly into a tartan shopping trolley. Although perfectly capable of walking, they would prefer that a pensioner with angina heave their lazy little carcasses up and down the High Street. They therefore automatically loose points for being like those teeny girls who pretend to be stupid rather than learn how to use a screwdriver.

Yorkshire Terriers spend more time in the salon that Ivana Trump and Nikki Clarke combined and still they have not managed a decent hairdo amongst them. Instead, they all affect a look much beloved of posh girls (long floppy hair, velvet bow). If one or two of them ever had the bottle to try something a little different – a beehive, or a perm perhaps – one might feel more kindly disposed, but alas, no.

Having worked out some time ago that they were never going to win any contests of strength, Yorkshire Terriers prefer to deploy more underhand tactics. Lonely old ladies are shamelessly shmoozed by the “I’m as camp as knickers – ain’t I just adorable” card (see Norton, G. for reference). And in severe cases, the old lady might pawn valuable family heirlooms, or begin to eat cheap “Savers” dog food herself in order that Binky can have his seared medallions of Aberdeen Angus or escalope of lamb on a mint and sorrel jus.

What a delightful bow you've forced your dog to wear against it's will.

In conclusion, although the Yorkshire Terrier appears as naught more than a large piece of pocket fluff with a cunningly balanced ribbon atop its goggle-eyed noggin it is not a cool or pleasant creature. It is lazy, shallow, has no sense of individual style and is deeply, deeply selfish.

I award the Yorkshire Terrier (because it’s Friday and I’m in a good mood)...

Score: 1.5/10

1.5/10? Sweet Heavens! Is there no end to your generosity?

We are, of course, not joking. Not even a bit. As you point out, the Yorkshire Terrier is a nasty piece of work. It is perhaps the most loathsome of all the small, ratlike creatures - posessing as it does not a single redeeming feature. Even rats have a modicum of intelligence to fall back upon, but the Yorkshire Terrier is as thick as two short planks. Even comparing them to rats seems mean, and rats have plague and everything.

It gets worse. Yorkshire Terriers make the most irritating noise imaginable, a genuinely horrid, aggressive little 'yipping'. Not woofing. Yipping. They're not fun in all the ways that real dogs are. No football, fetch or balancing on little balls. All they do is wait for you to pay their owners a visit so that they can bear their yellowed teeth at you when you arrive. And if you accidentally kick one in the head as it attempts to maul your ankle as you innocently pass it in the street, they set their owners on you.

"How could you kick my little Elsie! She's so small and helpless! Look at her little bow!" They say, as the beast attempts to tear your body into ribbons. "How could you do such a thing!"

"Because that isn't even an animal" you'd say.

And you'd be right.

0/10

Thanks for the review! Theo and Max