Jeremy Clarkson’s ‘Diddly Squat’

Jeremy Clarkson has done a remarkable thing with his farm tales titled Diddly Squat. In the throes of the U.K.’s Covid lockdowns and unable to review cars, the world’s most beloved and profane automotive journalist turned his wit, fortunes, and affected dunderheadedness to the challenges of farming.

The book, which bears the name of Clarkson’s farm — a property composed of a baker’s dozen fields scattered by God and generations of farmers across the English countryside — features a collection of columns originally published in the Sunday Times, now banded together. As a result, the central narrative is tenuous beyond “farming is bloody hard work, and the government and the thrice-damned ‘enviro-mentalists’ aren’t making it any easier.” The lack of clarity is fine, considering the book’s other merits.

About the Author

Luther Ray Abel

Luther Ray Abel is an Associate Editor for National Review. A veteran of the U.S. Navy, Luther is a proud native of Sheboygan, Wis.

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Jeremy Clarkson has done a remarkable thing with his farm tales titled Diddly Squat. In the throes of the U.K.’s Covid lockdowns and unable to review cars, the world’s most beloved and profane automotive journalist turned his wit, fortunes, and affected dunderheadedness to the challenges of farming.

The book, which bears the name of Clarkson’s farm — a property composed of a baker’s dozen fields scattered by God and generations of farmers across the English countryside — features a collection of columns originally published in the Sunday Times, now banded together. As a result, the central narrative is tenuous beyond “farming is bloody hard work, and the government and the thrice-damned ‘enviro-mentalists’ aren’t making it any easier.” The lack of clarity is fine, considering the book’s other merits.