Jeremy Clarkson’s farming venture.

H/t: IPA, Hey, what did I miss.

The later generations of the British have truly become adept at the European model of society to the point where they appear to be the most eager elements of that sorry region to accept the principle of; “Just relax and accept that the state knows what’s best for you."

The following could have been written for Englishmen, by Englishmen:

There's nobody who can better plan, monitor, supervise and assess your personal happiness than a well-meaning government official, sensitive to your and your loved ones' needs and fantasies. Happiness in general is a selfish, individualistic notion. Instead, we encourage everyone to cultivate the feeling of guilt. Guilt is a healthy sentiment that gives you the brazen strength of a martyr as you sacrifice your own happiness to the common good. – “The Politbureau” (CFK)

Occasionally though there is the odd one who has cracked the mold, although most of them have emigrated. Some of these have remained there for some reason and seem to have a special talent of seeing and ridiculing the flaws of the natural leaders of the command state who by their very nature condemn that institution to inertia. Jeremy Clarkson is one of these.

Here is an excerpt of his reflections on farm ownership:

Last week I bought a farm. Though financially speaking, it’s entirely possible I’ve bought the farm. But let’s look on the bright side. I can’t possibly make as much of a hash with the investment as the bankers made when they had the money.

Or can I? You might imagine it’s very easy to buy a farm. Unlike a house, you don’t need a surveyor to check on dry rot because a field cannot fall over, and rising damp is a good thing because it means free water. It turns out, however, that it’s actually very difficult, mostly because of the Georgians. Let me give you one example so you can see the scale of the problem.

There are a number of springs on the farm I’ve bought, one of which provides water to several properties in a nearby village. This arrangement was made when the land belonged to a fat man who had tea interests in India, and sealed in a document written with a quill, on bark.

Fine. But what if the water supply dries up, or the pipe breaks, or everyone in the village gets lead poisoning and grows two heads? Common sense dictates this would not be my problem, but under new Labour’s legal guidelines, all landowners are in the wrong at all times. Especially when a little old lady with two heads is in court, sobbing and waving around a piece of bark from 1742. …

I thought some sheep would be nice but it turns out Gordon Brown has an opinion on this. He reckons the number of animals I have per acre should be determined by how much nitrogen is in their excrement. I am consequently allowed only 0.6 of a sheep per acre, which means I may have only 75 of the damn things. …

One of the things I have accidentally bought is a Neolithic fort. It is, of course, no such thing. It is a slight ripple in an otherwise flat field, useful only as an exciting launch pad for the children’s quad bikes. But I feel fairly sure that if we use it for this purpose, Brown will make me apologise, in public, to Piltdown man.

Certainly I know he is using satellites to make sure that I plant the right crop in the right field. Also, he is employing men called Colin to come round regularly to make sure I don’t have too many sheep. Can you believe that? That your tax money is being spent to pay a man whose job is to count sheep. How the hell does he stay awake? …

What I want to do most of all is plant some game crop so that I can rear a few pheasants. But guess what? It turns out that Brown has an opinion on this as well, and it’s not allowed. He has an opinion on everything, it seems. There’s one field I thought would look nice if I grew some poppies and cornflowers. But that’s not allowed either.

Strangely, however, he will give me cash money if I promise to make a trout lake, and even more cash money if I don’t grow anything that could be turned into food. Quite how he squares this in his head when half the world is starving, I have no idea. And nor do I understand why the forms I have to fill in to get this cash money are longer and more complicated than the instruction manual for a nuclear power station.

I thought that farming would be easy. You plant seeds, weather happens and food grows. But I fear that as the seasons slide by, I will discover that I’m working my nuts off for less return than I got from those useless bastards at AIG. …

The whole article is here. There is much more to “Top Gear,” than fast cars, smooth chicks, and raw power.