Dogs Behaving (Very) Badly review: Graeme Hall is a sweet-natured presenter without any bite

Barbara Woodhouse remains unsurpassed as television's top dog-whisperer

Graeme Hall accompanied with six dogs (Channel 5)

Shows such as Dogs Behaving (Very) Badly (Channel 5) serve a wider social purpose than mere entertainment, enjoyable as they are to watch. For they remind any prospective dog owner casually considering taking one into their home that canines can, well, behave very badly indeed. If you want one example of what you might be letting yourself in for, look up the term “depraved appetite in dogs” before you take that trip to the shelter or the breeders.

Dog trainer Graeme Hall is the hero/star of this show (apart from the scene-stealing mutts themselves) and I can never quite tell whether his undoubted ability to quell the disruptive urges of even then most upset, obstreperous or just mischievous pet are simple common sense, and not some sort of mystical dog-shami skills he learned in a remote Himalayan monastery/kennels.

The latter, I suspect, because after Graeme has spent about 20 minutes with the “patients”, their owners are (not so) miraculously able to control their “mission impossible” companion animals.

Take “lawless” labradors Teddy and Fudge. Alana, a nice lady form Surrey, bought these gorgeous specimens after her doctors advised her to “keep mobile” after a painful back operation. But such is their strength and sense of adventure that when she takes them out it’s more like water-skiing, and they often drag her violently to the ground, risking further damage to life and limb. Teddy and Fudge: too dangerous to walk. Alana in tears.

Graeme “I’ll take on any dog” Hall to the rescue. Using the word “off” and putting them off balance when they try to jump up, it takes him precisely 27 seconds to cure their lack of manners. Getting them to stop taking their owner for walkies takes a little longer, but the achievement is equally impressive and straightforward.

Most upsetting is poor little Stanley the Cairn terrier. Suffering bereavement after the death of his companion Westie, he is shivering with nerves. Faced with a trot down Blackpool prom, he is filled with uncontrollable fear. Admittedly quite a lot of the prom's visitors feel that way when the pubs and clubs are emptying out, but this was day time, and there were relatively few drunks around. Through brief observation, of dogs and people, Hall correctly concludes that Stanley’s “mum” is inadvertently rewarding him with cuddles and praise every time he freaks out. She thought she was just trying to comfort the poor little fella. What he really needs is to be ignored. Again, problem solved.

It is genuinely heartening to witness because people love their pets, and rightly so, and, as with us humans, their mental health is as crucial to their well-being as their physical health (though most of us don’t need worming).

Hall himself as a coming telly personality, as well as canine professional (by which I mean a professional human with canine skills, not that he’s a fully qualified dog), has developed his own trademark persona: Land Rover, neckerchief, tweeds, jeans, brogues, Northern accent, affable manner. He joins quite long list of television dog whisperers, including, to my knowledge, Victoria Stilwell, Roger Mumford and the mummy of them all, Barbara Woodhouse. Woodhouse was the least likely of television stars, aged about 70 before she found national fame and eccentric celebrity in Training Dogs the Woodhouse Way, first broadcast in 1980 and which won a cult following in the US. She remains unsurpassed in unaffected style and the substance of her intuition as a trainer, but she was most amusing because she terrified the dog’s owners as much as the pets. Graeme is quite sweet-natured, and nice and cuddly, and might even perform well in the show ring, but it’s just not the same.