Writer, director and sometime actor Christopher Guest may not be the most instantly recognisable name on the global cinematic landscape, but he deserves immortality for his spectacular idiot-savant peformance as gormless Spinal Tap guitarist Nigel Tufnel (he also wrote the script). After a few years of relative inactivity, Guest returns to the fray here with another ‘mockumentary’: Best In Show is a light comic satire on the surprisingly cut-throat world of dog-shows, and though it never remotely attains the comic heights of Tap, there’s still enough going on to keep it consistently entertaining.

Certainly, the target – though an easy one – is entirely deserving of an unmerciful savaging. America is home to probably several million of the sort of doggie-owners whose doting adoration of their mutts verges on extreme cruelty, and Best in Show takes the piss out of its sad-sack human protagonists in relentless if unsubtle style. Though it often commits the sin of thinking itself a good deal funnier than it really is (an endemic problem with American attempts at satire), the inherent ridiculousness of the characters can’t help throwing up a few laughs, and the beasts themselves are a hugely endearing bunch.

The action centres on the Mayflower Kennel Club Dog Show in Philadelphia, where a host of weirdos have gathered to parade their pooches in pursuit of prizes.

These include a yuppie couple (Posey and Hitchcock) whose constant bickering plays havoc with their highly-strung Weimaraner’s nerves; a stunningly effeminate gay couple who keep two impeccably-manicured shih-tzus; a silicon-stuffed brainless-blonde mannequin (Coolidge) with a designer poodle and a rich geriatric husband; and Guest himself prowling around as a near-lunatic loner who babytalks his magnificent bloodhound throughout in thoroughly excruciating fashion.

Some of Best In Show’s sketches have a somewhat forced, awkward feel to them, and the characters are an endless parade of stereotypes – but every time it threatens to run out of steam, some gag or other just about manages to raise a cackle. The stars of the show, obviously, are the actual dogs, who finally get to hog the limelight from their humans during a finale which verges on the surreal.

Best In Show is miles removed from being a classic, but it zips along effectively enough for its compact 90-minute duration – and, for those with a terminal soft-spot for our canine comrades, it’s inherently worth a look in what is otherwise the most barren cinematic fortnight for years.