Crufts Dog Show - would you breed from the judges?

I was going to be left alone at home (well with only Ronnie and William), deserted in favour of a lot of dogs. Celia was thinking of going to Crufts Dog show until some sort of flu made her decide to stay at home. Why dogs would appeal to her, I can't think. Noisy animals who are stupid enough to allow humans to tell them what to do - and then actually to do it. Dogs have no independance of mind, no persistence in the face of human stupidity and seem incapable of doing their own thing. They spend a lot of time at Crufts just sitting on a bench or locked up in a crate (to protect them from passing humans muttering "Good Boy" and interfering with them by patting their heads). Then there are hours being groomed. You see them posed on grooming stands while people fix their hair. It goes on for hours and hours. Then it is into a small ring, one or two circuits, then more standing around in a silly and unnatural position with legs stretched back. An elderly human male or female then starts running his or her hands all over them, right into the intimate bits. It's sexual harassment of a gross kind.
And, my dear, the people. Nothing for a beauty parade there. Have you seen the judges? Talk about hereditary faults - hip dysplasia, loss of hair, no tails, poor eyesight, false teeth, and completely dry noses. And you can see that some of them have cheated with plastic surgery - not just the women, either. All in all, judges are not the sort of humans you'd want to breed from and yet none of them are spayed or neutered. Any sensible dog would bite. Hard. But they don't - dogs are natural wimps.
How do I know all this? Well "Best in Show" is one of Celia's favourite movies. As for cat shows, I wouldn't let Celia even think about it. I'd indubitably win - black, glossy, long tailed, and of an athletic build. But I don't fancy hours of just sitting in a cage being looked at. My life is the life of a true cat - mousing, birding, having a crack at rabbits, hanging out, inspecting the garden pond, hovering at the door until Celia opens it instead of using the cat flap, and popping in for breakfast, elevenses, lunch, tea, supper and late supper. You wouldn't get me into a show cage.