When we arrived at Diddly Squat Farm, Jeremy Clarkson was sitting behind his new £3000 aluminium designer desk, the one he’d been writing about buying in his Sunday Times column the previous day. To tell the truth, that desk was most of the reason why Matt Prior and I were there on that day.
Clarkson had been writing about how, because farming was quiet and it had rained non-stop since Christmas, he wasn’t currently needed to run this or his other businesses (farm shop, pub, brewery, game show). He had thus been feeling bored and had turned to buying things and contemplating new hobbies. The desk was part of that.
It was all discussed in Clarkson’s uniquely breezy and ironic column writer’s style, but what grabbed Prior’s and my interest – we’d both read the column – was this rare confession about JC’s boredom and having time to spare. Twice before we’d approached him about filling a My Week In Cars slot, but the first time he’d expressed a blanket dislike of pods, and the second an entirely understandable protest that he simply didn’t have any spare minutes.
At about lunchtime on Sunday, I sent him a note asking for an hour of his time. By 3pm I’d heard that “I could probably do something tomorrow”. If you’re going to get a reply from Clarkson, you get it promptly. It took a few minutes to check with Prior, someone who is more likely to be in Morocco tomorrow than anyone else I know. This time he wasn’t, so I replied to Jeremy saying we were keen and asking where and when we should meet. Soon after we were all set: Diddly Squat Farm, 2.30pm Monday.
The following afternoon we drove up the long farm track, past an imposing new farmhouse and into a yard surrounded by venerable working buildings. Farms today are supposed to be devoid of expensive personnel, but this one was stiff with busy people. It turned out that many were TV production types: they were soon to start the next tranche of Clarkson’s Farm and were making ready. In any case, for a programme like this you always need some kind of crew about, Jeremy explained later. You never know when the donkey’s going to get ill.
A man who looked like a team leader took us on a route through the buildings, first to wait in an office and next to meet a briskly business-like woman who wanted to know whether we took tea or coffee. Then we were directed to the new barn office – roomy, high-ceilinged, with car-themed pictures and posters on the wall, and glazed from floor to ceiling along the front.
In the centre was the gleaming desk, and behind it was Jeremy Clarkson. He was friendly and welcoming. Instructions about what not to ask or shoot were entirely absent. He even thanked us for coming. You can hear what ensued by listening to the podcast below.
Since rather a lot of years had rolled by since I last conversed for very long with Clarkson, I opened up with a cautious question: wondering to what extent he was still a car enthusiast. His affirmative answer was instantly enthusiastic, and so it continued right through the 70 recorded minutes we were speaking.
Some of the content was stuff you’ll know already: his lack of enthusiasm for “white goods” electric cars, his love of sophisticated petrol engines as the “soul” of a car, his enthusiasm for Lamborghinis, and his love of the Lexus LFA (which turns out to be the car he’d most like to buy, if the opportunity arose). We talked about cars in general and the enduring joy, which the three of us share, of writing about them. Plus some details of how, given that he’s still such an excellent judge of a car, Clarkson keeps himself briefed.
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