‘Welcome to the best tour in the world!’ shouts Glenn, our GoTours guide, into the microphone as the mood on board rises and our minibus inches through London’s traffic. There are 15 passengers with him, drawn from across the globe, and for many this outing is set to be the standout moment of their visit to Britain.
Derek, a brewer from New Zealand, has travelled with this very experience in mind. ‘This is my own personal dream tour,’ he says.
The group also includes a family of four from North Carolina, who have built their entire holiday around the trip, along with Mia from Finland and a couple from Australia.
So what grand British landmark is drawing such anticipation? Buckingham Palace for tea with the King? Downing Street for one last sighting of a downcast Sir Keir?
Not quite. Our destination is Oxfordshire, for a day exploring ‘Jeremy Clarkson’s Cotswolds’.
The first stop is Diddly Squat Farm Shop, where queues begin forming from 8.45am and a small army of high-visibility parking attendants oversees the sprawling car park. After that, we will be driven past Clarkson’s vast £12.5 million, pillared home — more than once.
Then it is on to Hawkstone Brewery, near the historic town of Burford, where Clarkson’s beer is made. The final stop is The Farmer’s Dog pub in Asthall, which he opened amid huge publicity in August 2024. Its popularity is such that 400 branded pint glasses reportedly disappear each week, while tables are reserved months in advance — meaning none of us will be sampling the £26 pie and mash today.
‘We don’t care. We just want to see it — we’re just glad it’s going well,’ says the woman sitting behind me.
Daily Mail’s Jane Fryer visited Jeremy Clarkson’s empire in the Cotswolds, with the first stop at his Diddly Squat Farm Shop
Jeremy Clarkson with his partner Lisa Hogan in a still from his Clarkson’s Farm show
Series five of Clarkson’s Farm has also had very mixed reviews. Christopher Stevens gave it one star
Which is a good thing, because now Glenn is telling us that, sadly, we won’t actually be able to buy anything at the Diddly Squat Farm Shop – not even the £22 joke candles ‘that smell like Jeremy’s b*****ks’ or a £9 wooden spoon – because the queues are so long we’d be there all day.
‘But you can pop your head in and take a photo – they don’t mind that – and buy some refreshments round the back and admire the view,’ he says. And then, to a collective sigh of relief, he assures us that the shops at the brewery and pub all sell the same merchandise, so we can shop to our hearts’ content.
Over the past few years, it seems that everything former Top Gear host Clarkson touches turns to gold, and nothing more so than his phenomenally popular Amazon Prime Video show, Clarkson’s Farm. Filmed on the 1,000-acre Diddly Squat property, it has made him the patron saint of Britain’s beleaguered farmers and, to a lesser extent, publicans.
There have been hiccups along the way. Appalling traffic jams in the narrow country lanes when the farm shop first opened. The ill-fated Diddly Squat restaurant, which closed following one of the many, many disputes with the council. The utterly chaotic opening of the Farmer’s Dog pub. All of which seems to bounce off Jeremy.
‘The disasters must make it more fun. And better telly,’ says fan David Meer from Boston. But it’s not all fun for the people who live in this once quiet corner of the rural Cotswolds.
Because, whisper it – and I really would on this bus full of superfans straining for the first glimpse of Diddly Squat – there are signs that the sheen is beginning to fade. That Clarkson’s empire is now so big it’s changing the local area for the worse.
Not just with the inevitable air, noise and light pollution of so many visitors – the farm shop alone is thought to attract more than 50,000 visitors every month. But by helping to turn this part of the Cotswolds, an area of outstanding natural beauty, into a theme park.
‘They call it the “Clarksonification of the Cotswolds”,’ says one resident of Woodstock. ‘Yes, he provides loads of jobs and everyone seems to love him, but we can’t pretend it isn’t changing the area. And not in a good way. Maybe he needs to slow down a bit and take stock.’
Not that Clarkson’s really the type, but there has been plenty of bad news lately, including his recently revealed prostate cancer, now in remission.
American sisters Sydney, left, and Maren McFarlane, whose family are obsessed with all things Clarkson
‘We watched Clarkson’s Farm on a loop. We’re obsessed, totally obsessed,’ says Sydney McFarlane
Series five of Clarkson’s Farm has also had very mixed reviews. Our own Christopher Stevens gave it just one star on the basis that Jeremy spends most of it either moaning, or boring us about the origins of bonfire night. Viewing figures are also down nearly 20 per cent, from 5.3 million at the start of the fourth series, to 4.4 million.
Even some farmers, who generally adore him, are a bit narked by his moaning.
Earlier this month I visited Cereals, an annual agricultural show which was held for the first time at Diddly Squat, attracting 25,000 visitors and closing the roads again. There I got chatting to three youngish arable farmers from near Cambridge. ‘He’s opened a lot of people’s eyes who aren’t involved in farming, but he doesn’t have the same pressures as us, or the same financial anxiety,’ says one. ‘He can try all sorts of things and Amazon will pay for it. He can afford for it to go wrong. We can’t.’
Others, nearer home, are forever mopping up behind him.
‘The Farmer’s Dog has taken up quite a lot of time,’ notes Lynn Hughson, chair of the local parish council, in the June minutes.
Over recent months, councillors have had to deal with everything from ‘very loud music on Saturday night’, to lights left blazing long after closing – causing locals to worry about the effect on wildlife.
There have been endless applications for bigger, better, more brightly lit parking facilities, including permanent use of a nearby field for overflow parking for 360 cars.
Hugo Pickering, a local resident and fan of Clarkson’s, says some fear a wider environmental effect.
‘There are people coming from a long, long way away – from New Zealand! They get off the plane, go straight to Diddly Squat, queue and queue, and then fly back again. That actually happened!’
Surely not? A 23,000-mile round trip to buy tea towels and a pinny?
So when we arrive at Diddly Squat, I head for the long snaking queue and chat to those sweltering in the 30C heat to see who they are and where they’ve come from.
First are the Bruhn family from Michigan, who are in the UK on a trip arranged specifically around this visit. ‘We all just love him. He’s funny and outgoing and we’d love to meet him,’ says Zach, 18, who is wearing a brand new Hawkstone T-shirt.
Next is an old boy called Robert from Penguin Island in Australia. ‘Jeremy’s always trying to stick it up the constabulary, isn’t he? So I’m here to support him in that regard. Though we did think a Tuesday would be nice and quiet.’
Maren McFarlane, 18, and her sister Sydney, 25, from California, tell me that such is their family obsession with all things Clarkson that, last year, their parents gave all three children $1,500 each to buy a junk car and make their own version of Top Gear. ‘It’s more than just a show, it changes your life,’ says Sydney. ‘We watched Clarkson’s Farm on a loop. We’re obsessed, totally obsessed.’
As is everyone on my bus. Videoing the empty football pitch where, in series two, Chadlington played Chadlington Reserves. Taking photos of the memorial hall where he once made some pepper sauce. Looking out for Jeremy at all times. ‘To get a selfie with him would be the absolutely ultimate,’ says Derek.
They are also lapping up titbits about his partner – and Clarkson’s Farm co-star – Lisa once ordering Glenn to lug boxes around, and how Hawkstone gobbled up the old Cotswold Brewery, and how 90 per cent of the beer is now brewed in Burton upon Trent in the Midlands because they can’t keep up with demand here.
Glenn tells me he’d been taking tours around the Cotswolds for decades when, a couple of years ago, his guests started asking if they could go past Clarkson’s farm.
So after checking with Clarkson’s people – ‘they said “go for it” ’ – he started this £90-a-head day trip, which has now been copied by lots of other companies .
If you don’t fancy a group, you can opt for a private tour for £950 for the day. Or perhaps a three-day intensive Clarkson pilgrimage. All are sold out weeks ahead – mostly to visitors from South Africa, Australia, Canada, the US and New Zealand.
They’re not interested in seeing Blenheim Palace, Sir Winston Churchill’s magnificent birthplace. Or even doing a nice country walk. Which is why some locals call them ‘zombie tourists’ – because they never look up to take in the rest of the Cotswolds.
They have no interest in Chadlington Quality Foods – a vastly superior farm shop less than half a mile away. One of the Diddly Squat high-vis car park attendants told me about it. ‘It’s so much better,’ he says. ‘And no queues!’
He’s right. The only customers are a couple called Laura and Toby who have lived in the area for years. ‘The tourists don’t venture beyond the [Clarkson] compound. They stay up there and we’re kind of glad,’ says Laura. ‘We don’t want to encourage them.’
Equally, most locals wouldn’t dream of setting foot in any of Clarkson’s attractions.
‘We’ve never been to any of them and have no intention – why would we? There’s nothing we’d want to buy,’ says Laura.
‘None of it is for locals, but tourists seem to love it.’
They certainly do. And, as I discover from my cheery bus companions, they do with such zeal that keeps them wonderfully upbeat throughout. Even when we get the first glimpse of the gigantic overflow car park at the pub.
‘Wow. Wow. Wow! Look at the size of that!’ shouts the dad from Charlottesville. They don’t even baulk when we discover the Hawkstone brewery is really just a sweltering tent and a lorry container, plus a gift shop. ‘Brilliant. We love it. So down-to-earth, just like Jeremy!’
The fans don’t even baulk when we discover the Hawkstone brewery is really just a sweltering tent and a lorry container, plus a gift shop
Over the past few years, it seems that everything former Top Gear host Clarkson touches turns to gold
Or when we arrive at the Farmer’s Dog, just off a roundabout on the A40, to discover the entire tented area – home to an extra bar, a butcher and a pie counter – is closed in the heat. However they have somehow managed to set up al fresco gift shops at each end.
‘They’re doing their best,’ says John from Toronto. ‘And just look at the view! What a day out!’
In fact, the only dark moment is when Janene Brown, from Durban, who is laden with Clarkson tea towels and T-shirts, caps, coffee mugs and bottle openers, spots a woman popping a stack of Jeremy’s pint glasses in her big handbag.
‘She was in her 60s and looked very respectable – to steal here. It’s appalling. Poor Jeremy.’
Or maybe not so poor, given his ventures have made him millions.
Anyway, after six hours of everything Clarkson, I bid my tour group farewell. But, before I go, I ask them how it’s been.
‘Just brilliant!’ say Wendy and Louis from California. ‘We’ve been here two weeks and we’ve done Stonehenge, Tate Britain, London Bridge and the Tower of London. But this is the best of the lot!’
