How ‘real’ is ‘reality TV’: Clarkson, ‘Diddly Squat’, farm diversification and planning

Spoiler Alert - if you’ve not yet watched the series but plan to, don’t read this – I give the whole game away.

I enjoyed the last series of Clarkson’s Farm, but mainly for the ‘real life’ farming community who featured in it. Kaleb was obviously the hands-on farmer and without him and his fellow agricultural colleagues Diddly Squat wouldn’t have lasted a month.

In fairness, Clarkson never shied away from the seemingly obvious differences between a career as a ‘media personality’ to that of a farmer. Still, you can take a man out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of a man and Clarkson still managed to shoehorn in elements of his past life; preferring to purchase a super-tractor from Lamborghini instead of a main-stream agricultural tractor dealer and opening a shop before he has any commercial-scale produce showed a free-wheeling approach that rarely features in rural, farming life!

The last season concluded with the farm realising £144 profit, despite the government rural grant. This is a major feature of the start of the new season, as the phased withdrawal of previous EU subsidies, and the level of uncertainty about what is replacing it, led to the uncomfortable realisation that, this year, the farm would see a reduction in income to the tune of £86,000 or thereabouts.

Diversification is the answer, and the series quickly turns to its primary plotline – opening a farm restaurant.

However, the initial plan to redevelop the farm shop into a larger building that might accommodate a café, with extensive car parking directly outside, is met with resistance from the Planning Authority. Clarkson had made the same rooky error that most newbie developers do – he’d failed to appreciate the strength of feeling that development can generate amongst the locals. By failing to take control of the narrative surrounding his development proposals, he had allowed his neighbours to create their own.  That story was one of local consternation. Nearby residents were framing his farm diversification efforts as a story about a Media Personality who had come rough-shod into the community without making any effort to integrate in a sympathetic or considerate manner. Driving his noisy, suburban vehicles through their quiet and often single-track community.

The Diddly Squat farm shop – relatively tiny and unassuming in size compared to his large holding – had become a major tourist attraction, caused unanticipated mayhem from visitors coming from far and wide. Traffic would line up along the highway outside, causing highway congestion. The onsite car park was insufficient. The shop stock was not in-line with the restrictions on the planning permission, which resulted in an enforcement investigation – the t-shirts and caps were clearly not Diddly Squat produce.

Furthermore, on inspection, there were issues with the shop roof. The authority issued a PCN (planning contravention notice to those less accustomed with the planning world of acronyms, such as Clarkson!). The officers were investigating allegations of breaches of planning. Serious stuff.

This coupled with the reality of a muddy field that couldn’t be laid as a car park without further approval from the Council, which was not forthcoming, he reverted to the design board.

Clarkson was advised to go on a charm offensive. He tried, going down to the Parish Hall to try to quell the waves of discontentment with wine and cheese, but despite this he was heckled by most. A depressingly familiar experience for many planning professionals at these types of public consultations.

The farming community on the other hand seem to welcome the idea of a restaurant, especially with Clarkson enthusing about using only local produce, produced by his and their farms. Most of the farmers were struggling, alongside the grant loss, their produce was being undercut by importation of similar products from the EU but at a much lower cost to the end user. They couldn’t survive, but Clarkson’s plan gave them another potential, highly valuable, revenue stream.

Then things got really interesting – Clarkson’s application was called to Planning Committee. One objector had even paid out for a specialist planning barrister to present their case before the Committee. Clarkson, ever confident, was unfazed making reference only to the barrister’s apparent failure to use spellchecker on his advice note. Again harking back to his days in press when spelling was a probable bugbear.

Democracy was shown in all its glory. Those hoping for most of Handforth Parish and Jackie Weaver shenanigans from the past would be saddened, this Committee was well-run and presentations were thoughtful and considered – at least in the edited version for TV.

Despite a very eloquent speech in support of struggling farmers and some Councillors being on the side of their rural community and the economy in the area, the vote found against him and planning permission was refused.

Clarkson considered appealing the refusal, convening a whole legal team to advise on the merits of appealing.  The costs of the appeal, however, were felt to be disproportionate to the potential value of the enterprise.

But then they found another way.  A ‘ loophole’ that allowed the reuse of agricultural buildings, so long as they were sound. Clarkson had a large building within his wider site, albeit with some roof damage, but otherwise structurally sound. Clarkson was astounded that more people didn’t know about this ‘loophole’.  Lots of farmers would make use of it.

This is where the ‘entertainment’ value of the show really kicks in for those of us who work in planning. As lots of farmers and agricultural landowners are making use of this facility but it’s not a loophole! It’s called permitted development and is written specifically into legislation so that anyone who might be eligible might avail of it.  Despite what many politicians appear to believe, permitted development rights are a valid, and often extremely useful, part of the planning system. Clearly, however, that is a much less entertaining story line!

It looks like Planning is fast becoming the 2020’s version of Court-room dramas of the 1990’s and after the disappointment of cancelled series The Planners (a behind-the-scenes look at how planning officers work day-to-day, which featured some of my friends from Cheshire Council’s) I for one trumpet its arrival.

But please don’t mention loopholes, or surprise witnesses – neither exist in real life planning and local democracy…. and if I ever see a planning inspector holding a gavel, I may have to throw the TV out of the window!

If you want to hear more about what really happens in real life planning, local democracy, enforcement, highways or environmental get in touch with the Planning & Environment team at Irwin Mitchell.