What happened when I made a 400-mile pilgrimage to Jeremy Clarkson’s Farmer’s Dog to grab a 12-pack

I’ve previously written about why I think the motormouth-turned-farmer is one of the best things that’s ever happened to the world of television. I also admire his ability to tell an engaging tale away from his natural habitat of the race track or field.

For the past few years, thanks to the might of Amazon, the (formerly) permed one has become as famous, indeed infamous, for his farming exploits as for his automotive prowess. Clarkson’s Farm documents his attempts at running a 1,000-acre farm near Chipping Norton in West Oxfordshire. Billed by the man himself as “genuine reality television”, it has turned out to be every bit as engrossing as his motoring output on Top Gear and The Grand Tour. Possibly more so, given its unflinching insight into the realities of farming in 21st century Britain.

Having opened up Clarkson to a new audience it’s no surprise to see the programme renewed for a fourth series.

Like thousands of other fans, I’ve made the pilgrimage to Diddly Squat, which also houses a well-stocked farm shop. Twice, as it happens. I’m a bit of a fan of the area in general. Look beyond its tweeness and the Cotswolds has rather a lot to offer, including some of the finest walking routes and views of any in the British Isles. So, it would have been amiss of me not to pay a visit to Jezza’s agricultural venture when in town.

The first visit was made in August 2021, when clearly plenty of folks were keen to get out and about again post-lockdowns. The first series of Clarkson’s Farm had just premiered on Prime and the place was abuzz. Comfortably abuzz. The car park still had some spaces free and I managed a trip inside the shop with only minimal queuing.

My second visit, undertaken this June, was quite the opposite. In fact, I didn’t even stop. Couldn’t. The narrow country lane leading past the farm had cars, vans and even motorhomes parked higgledy-piggledy on its narrow verges. It took some time and more than a little cursing squeezing through, and I wasn’t driving the local bus, whose exasperated driver appeared to have simply given up.

Not to be defeated, or as a total glutton for punishment, I was back again just a few weeks ago to visit The Farmer’s Dog pub just outside pretty and only mildly twee Burford, a small town frequently touted as the “gateway” to the Cotswolds. This is Mr C’s latest stab at supporting local producers, and generating a bit of dosh, presumably, and acts as a shop window for his Hawkstone brewing venture, which is located nearby.

I should have known what to expect. A late summer’s Friday afternoon. Sun shining. Families and fans looking for something to do. The place was predictably rammed. Having been directed into the final parking space, between two trees deep into some wooded area adjacent to the overflowing main car park, I ventured towards the inn’s entrance.

A wild guess told me that I’d be close to famished by the time I reached the front of the slowly snaking queue so, instead, I headed for the old Grand Tour marquee, erected close by to house a taproom, eatery and pop-up store. This was mercifully less crowded and agreeably laid-back. I departed suitably refuelled and hauling a 12-pack of Hawkstone’s very quaffable Session Lager.

Will I be back again? For sure, though I might take a ramble there rather than endure the traffic madness. Should you pay a visit yourself? Definitely. Just don’t assume the Big Man will put in an appearance.

Scott Reid is a business journalist with The Scotsman, keen petrolhead and beer drinker