Jeremy Clarkson breaks silence on painful Cotswolds farm decision that left him ‘broken’
Jeremy Clarkson, the renowned television presenter and former host of Top Gear, has candidly admitted that he feels “old and broken” as he navigates the challenges of running his Diddly Squat Farm in the picturesque Cotswolds region of Oxfordshire. The 65-year-old, who has transformed his farming exploits into a hit Prime Video series called Clarkson’s Farm, shared these personal reflections in his latest Sunday Times column, highlighting the physical toll of age while paradoxically noting the sedentary nature of much farm work.
Clarkson has owned the farm—previously known as Curdle Hill Farm—since 2008. Nestled in the village of Chadlington near Chipping Norton, the 1,000-acre property has become a focal point for his documentary series, which chronicles the highs and lows of rural life. With four seasons already released and a fifth in production, the show has garnered a massive following, blending humor, mishaps, and genuine insights into British agriculture. Beyond the farm itself, Clarkson has expanded his ventures with a pub called the Farmer’s Dog and a farm shop that attracts visitors from far and wide.
In his column, Clarkson delves into the realities of farming, contrasting it with stereotypes of backbreaking labor. He describes hosting the Britain’s Fittest Farmer competition at his pub, an event filled with “muscle and sinew and grunting,” where competitors showcased impressive physical prowess. However, he points out that true farming at Diddly Squat is far from strenuous. “Since I started in the fields six years ago, I’ve realised that farming is ideal for those who don’t like to work up a sweat,” he writes. “Only mattress testers have an easier, more sedentary life.” He explains that most tasks involve sitting—in tractors for drilling and cultivating, in his Range Rover for checking livestock, or in a telehandler for moving equipment. Even administrative duties, like reporting to Defra, are done from a chair.
This sedentary lifestyle, Clarkson admits, hasn’t prevented the inevitable effects of aging. The crux of his recent decision revolves around his trusted Supacat, a rugged six-wheel-drive, semi-amphibious vehicle originally designed for military use. Built to recover broken Land Rovers from battlefields, the Supacat has served him well for venturing into the farm’s woodlands to collect timber. Purchased as army surplus for £9,000 a few years ago, it’s equipped with big, fat, soft tires that prevent it from getting stuck or damaging the ground. Yet, as Clarkson notes, “it is quite difficult to get in and out of if you are old and broken.”
Faced with this challenge, Clarkson set out to find a replacement, testing several utility task vehicles (UTVs). He initially considered the all-electric Polaris Ranger XP Kinetic Ultimate, praising its 80-mile range and suitability for farm tasks. However, he encountered issues with its silent operation, which made navigating obstacles like fallen trees tricky without auditory feedback from the engine. “You press the accelerator and nothing happens. So you press it some more and still nothing happens. So you keep on pressing it until, all of a sudden, you leap over the tree doing four thousand miles per hour,” he humorously recounts. Additionally, its £44,000 price tag—nearly double that of petrol alternatives—proved a deterrent.
Clarkson also expressed reservations about quad bikes, citing their instability, and other UTVs due to a personal tragedy involving friends. Ultimately, he settled on the petrol-powered CFMoto UForce U10 Pro, a Chinese-made vehicle priced at around £39,000 (though he notes it’s £5,000 less than the Polaris). Boasting features like leather-look seats, Apple CarPlay, electric windows, an electric winch, a hydraulically tipping load bed, and air conditioning via a tilting front window, the CFMoto offers greater comfort and practicality. It’s faster too, capable of 70mph, though Clarkson quips he wouldn’t push it that far. “It has been on the farm for a couple of months now and I must say it’s very practical, very robust and extremely useful. Nothing’s fallen off either,” he adds. The main drawbacks? It runs on petrol (while the farm has only diesel tanks) and is a bit noisy.
Adding a heartwarming twist, Clarkson reveals that his dogs have become the biggest fans of the new vehicle. On its first day, they eagerly jumped into the pick-up bed and have since refused to leave. “Genuinely, they love it in there more than they love chasing deer,” he says. One dog, Sansa, even leaped out to chase a deer mid-ride but quickly jumped back in while the vehicle was still moving—an impressive feat that left Clarkson in awe. The dogs enjoy sticking their heads through the sliding back window with the windscreen tilted up, simulating a high-speed run without the effort. They even sit in it when it’s parked in the barn, potentially training to become the “fittest farm dogs”—or, as Clarkson jokes, the “fattest.”
This latest update from Diddly Squat underscores Clarkson’s ongoing adaptation to farm life, blending self-deprecating humor with practical decisions. As he continues to document his experiences, fans eagerly await more glimpses into the world of one of Britain’s most entertaining farmers