Royal Berkshire Show
From the PG Wodehouse Society (http://www.eclipse.co.uk/wodehouse/)
Uploaded January 2006

Robert Bruce
September 200

Lord Emsworth’s idea of heaven could well have been a large tent at the Royal Berkshire Show in mid-September. Here, in neat pens as far as the eye could see, were black Berkshire pigs. Not any old Berkshires though. These were the winners in their class at agricultural shows up and down the country throughout the summer. Under the one canvas roof and snout deep in straw were gathered the champion Berkshires of England. These pigs bestrode their world.

And the purpose of this gathering was clear to every one of them. They were there to compete for the honour of Champion of Champions and to become the proud wearer of the PG Wodehouse Society sash, or, if a runner-up, a Society rosette. Ancient folk memories of the Empress of Blandings stirred in their minds. For this was the first year the PG Wodehouse Society had sponsored this event and numerous members, including the Chairman in an appropriate hat, had arrived early on the Sunday morning to observe the proceedings.

First the resplendent sashes and rosettes were viewed and a bracing cup of tea from the urn in the owners’ enclosure taken. Then the pigs, in all their splendour, were viewed. To a Wodehousean eye Berkshires look pleasing in their normal relaxed state. But on show day all this changes. Two or more washes with special pig shampoo, some baby oil rubbed in, a light coating of loam and brushed bristles transforms a pig when the Champion of Champions award calls. They positively glisten.

We had a word with the judge for the event. Brian Eeles, we learned, had bred Berkshires for 25 years, had been judging them for eight years and had come down from near Darlington in County Durham specifically to judge this event. We asked him what he would be looking for. ‘Good underlines’, he started, ‘and good on their legs. I like a nice head, a nice level back, nice hams if possible, good on their feet and good conformation.’ Then he looked thoughtful. ‘If I get all that right I’ll be OK,’ he concluded.

Then we were cleared out of the tent and took our place around the show ring. The pigs were walked out, each with a white-coated handler bearing a cane to tap on their snouts to guide them this way and that, and a white board. This board was used to distract the attention of the boars from each other. ‘Boars fighting can get really nasty,’ an experienced onlooker told us.

Mr Eeles got to work. Dressed in a dark suit and topped off with a bowler hat he looked every inch the expert as he walked around the ring mingling with the pigs and looking intently at each of their aspects. Every so often he would lean down low, arms extended back, looking, despite the bowler hat, like a ski-jumper about to reach lift-off. A pig’s underlines would be examined closely.

The judging, watched by a crowd of some 250 people, took around 25 minutes. This was partly due to the erratic progress of the pigs as they circulated around the ring. As Lord Emsworth could have told anyone within earshot, pigs prefer the comfort and slumber of a sty. Lengthy strolls around a prize ring are not at all to their liking despite their doting owners’ persistent encouragement. And they tend not to take kindly, in their grunting and snuffling, to directions from their handlers. ‘If they want to go somewhere they will go somewhere,’ said a seasoned observer leaning on the rails.

We onlooking Wodehouseans had exhausted our efforts at trying to decide which pig had the nicest hams. We were compiling meaningful statistics. For the record it can be reported that of the thirteen pigs on show two had their tails curling to the right and eleven to the left. None of us knew whether this was significant or not.

The tension was mounting. The entry was being extolled by the crowd around the ring. The 13 pigs (‘not often you get 13 here,' one owner pointed out), trundled their way this way and that. Then the waiting was over. Mr Eeles had made his decision. The chap in charge of the microphone was overjoyed. 'It's my wife's pig,' he said, and joked: 'We're paying the judge now.'

The Berkshire Pig Champion of Champions turned out to be called Kilcot Royal Lustre 11. ‘But we call her Dusty,' confided the happy breeder, Sharon Barnfield. Kilcot Royal Lustre 11 was three-and-a-half years old, was due to farrow at the end of October, and it would be her fifth litter. Our interview with Mrs Barnfield was interrupted as uproar ensued over an escaped piglet at the opening to the tent. She reappeared shortly to extol her pig’s virtues. ‘What a wonderful animal she is,' she told us. ‘We must be doing something right.'

It seemed to be generally acknowledged amongst Berkshire aficionados that the standard had been particularly high. Mr Eeles told us how he had reached his judgement. ‘She was the best in the ring,' he said. ‘She was a good-framed pig, had a beautiful head, a correct underline and she walked well,’ he said. ‘It is a pleasure to come down to judge a class like this.’

Then it came to the presentation of the sash by the Society’s chairman, the resplendent Hilary Bruce. This was perhaps best summed up by the chap with the microphone who was still attempting a running commentary. ‘You can’t get a pig to stand still for a photograph,’ he told the cheering crowd. The sash was on its back. Then it was off again. And with what could have been a bit of disrespect or simple friendliness it then trod on it. A judicious application of some apples at the snout end enabled the sash to be placed over her back again and swift photographs taken. ‘Now she is behaving herself,' announced the relieved commentator.

After all this excitement it came as a bit of an anti-climax to find that, having won the Berkshire Pig Breeders Club Champion of Champions, our heroine then had to make an immediate reappearance in the ring. This time it was to be judged amongst all the Champions of Champions across the pig world. Tamworths, Gloucester Old Spots, Middle Whites and Kilcot Royal Lustre 11 all jostled together. Our heroine was disgruntled at all this. She had a good idea where her comfortable sty lay and continually circled the ring and shoulder charged the gate leading to the chance of snoring amidst the straw. Each time she was distracted by the offer of another apple. And in the end it was all worth it. She was judged to be the winner once again.

At this the assembled company moved off in search of a nourishing bacon sandwich and spent a happy time at a nearby hog roast. We did come back later to see our champion. She seemed happy. All the formalities of her big day were over. She slumbered deeply with the Society’s sash pinned across the back of her sty. She was probably dreaming of having her back scratched by Lord Emsworth. Or of more apples.

The reserve Champion of Champions, or runner-up to Dusty, was bred by Christine Coe, who is addressing the society at the Savage Club on Tuesday, 11th October, after the AGM, on Berkshire pigs.

From the PG Wodehouse Society (http://www.eclipse.co.uk/wodehouse/)