It’s only 11:00 a.m. on a sunny day in the Cotswolds, but Jeremy Clarkson’s pub — better known as the Diddly Squat Farm Shop & Pub — is already bursting at the seams. So much so that visitors like myself were directed straight to the overflow car park as soon as we arrived.
Yet, despite the crowds, the sprawling grounds shaded by century-old trees offer plenty of breathing room — and a surprising sense of calm for a place drawing thousands daily. By night, festoon lights strung among the old oaks promise a scene as charming as any English village postcard.
If you fancy a seat in the restaurant, you’d best plan ahead — a month ahead, to be exact. Without a booking, hungry guests flock to the nearby food trucks instead. The fare is simple: a bacon roll (around $9 USD) — good bacon, dry bun, and don’t bother asking for ketchup. Clarkson’s fiercely local ethos forbids it; there’s no 100% British-made ketchup, so none is served. Instead, the pork sausage rolls offer a better bite, and Clarkson’s own hand-cooked chips (cheese and onion flavour tested here) make for a moreish snack.
A Thousand Rolls and Plenty of Ale
How busy is busy? This small countryside venture serves about 1,000 rolls a day — plus the 850 meals dished out inside the restaurant. The pub itself spreads over two floors, with a cozy upstairs lounge complete with a wood fire — a winter haven, no doubt. On opening day, the crowds were wild, and each new season of Clarkson’s Farm has only added to the rush.
While dining is half the draw, the real heartbeat of the place is its championing of British farmers. The farm shop, set inside the old Grand Tour tent, sells local produce, meats, pasties, and a wide selection of Clarkson’s own “Hawkstone” beer and cider. Prices aren’t cheap — about $9 USD per bottle — but there’s no extra tax, no tipping, and, as the staff are quick to remind you, this venture supports 146 local jobs.
Visitors can choose from Clarkson’s Session Lager, IPA, Bitter, or the dark, coffee-noted Black Ale. For those wondering, this writer — a self-confessed non-beer drinker — found the standard lager the easiest sip on a warm day.
Strict Rules and Clarkson’s Banned List
In typical Clarkson style, rules here are both simple and unbending. Want ketchup? Sorry. Prefer non-British products? Not here. Complain about the prices? You might just find yourself banned — as one diner famously did for declaring £24 “too much for pie and veg.”
But it’s not just random customers who’ve earned a ban. Clarkson’s Top Gear mates Richard Hammond and James May, and even UK Labour leader Keir Starmer, have all supposedly been barred — at least for the cameras. Meanwhile, dogs like the well-behaved Rocky Jr. are always welcome in the beer garden.
A Helicopter in the Backyard
Clarkson himself pops by often, according to staff. And for those curious, yes — the man has been known to crash at fans’ houses too. One visitor here recalls the time Clarkson, James May, and Aussie actor Shane Jacobson all stayed at his home in Western Australia during a live tour, landing each night on the local school oval by helicopter.
Not Just a Pub — But a Local Lifeline
Behind the bravado, there’s a sincere mission here. By filling his farm shop shelves with produce from local suppliers, Clarkson has cleverly pulled the surrounding farming community into his orbit — a win-win that has made Diddly Squat more than just a celebrity gimmick.
On busy weekends, the site swells to an estimated 10,000–15,000 people, with parking for thousands spread across fields. Once just an old watering hole called The Windmill, the pub now stands as a testament to what TV fame and rural pride can do when combined.
The only downside? If you stock up on two or three dozen bottles of Hawkstone, prepare for a decent hike back to your car — and don’t forget to lift your boxes properly. Staff here warn visitors not to carry beer packs by the plastic alone. Lessons, it seems, have been learned the hard way.
As Clarkson’s fans make their pilgrimages from far and wide — even from Ireland — it’s clear this little corner of Oxfordshire has become a magnet for more than just a pint and a pie. It’s a living, bustling celebration of British farming, wrapped up in that familiar Clarkson charm: no-nonsense, opinionated, and utterly unapologetic.
