I love Clarkson’s Farm. I love Kaleb. I love Gerald and his fake impersonation of an impenetrable rustic accent. I love Lisa. I love Cheerful Charlie. I love Richard Ham the runt piglet. I love that new tractor-driving TikTok nurse girl they pretended to find at a farmer’s recruitment agency - yeah right - while Kaleb was away being a celebrity. I love the theme tune. I love the crappy Lamborghini tractors.
But just because I love Clarkson’s Farm doesn’t mean I think it’s our friend. Because it’s not. It’s not going to save farmers. It’s not going to save the English pub. And it’s not going to save any of us from the encroaching New World Order because Clarkson’s Farm, regrettably, is part of the problem.
How could something so charming, rebellious, sweary and fun possibly be our enemy?
The short answer is that it’s on Amazon - owned by the not notably un-evil Jeff Bezos - and is enjoyed by millions and millions of viewers around the world, including in China, where it has landed a 9.6 out of 10 rating on the review website Douban. You don’t get to achieve that level of popularity, anywhere, ever, unless you’re part of the enemy’s plan.
But the longer answer is more complicated because on the surface, I concede, Clarkson’s Farm looks very much like the kind of programme our Dark Overlords wouldn’t want you to see.
It supports farming. And They hate farming. (And farmers).
It hates Political Correctness. And They invented Political Correctness.
It stands up for the English pub. And They want to close down all the English pubs.
It loathes bureaucracy. And bureaucracy is one of Their primary control mechanisms.
It stars the man whose entire career is founded on his love of the internal combustion engine. And of course They hate the internal combustion engine almost more than They hate anything.
And it’s funny. Which They hate even more than They hate the internal combustion engine because They have no sense of humour.
This, though, is the nature of all psyops. On the surface, it all looks very convincing. It’s only after you’ve looked under the bonnet that you begin to realise you’ve been sold a lemon.
Let’s put ourselves in the shoes - red shoes probably - of the wicked Cabal that runs the world and consider how a show like Clarkson’s Farm might serve their interests.
They’re not stupid, these people. They - or predators like them - have been successfully running the world for at least the last 6,000 years. And one of the key insights they’ve gleaned in that period is that the most effective form of slavery is the one where all the slaves imagine themselves to be free.
This is the form of slavery which has prevailed in the West over the last few centuries. It works best because when you are a slave who doesn’t know he’s a slave you're much less inclined to rebel against your masters. “I’m Spartacus,” said no one, ever, in the ‘Free World’ because in the ‘Free World’ you don’t even know you’re living under the Roman Empire.
Remember - if you’re old enough - how sorry we used to feel for all those hapless Eastern Europeans with their terrible mullet haircuts trapped behind the Iron Curtain? We had branded denim; cars that weren’t Ladas; ubiquitous groovy pop music; McDonalds. They had nothing but donkey gristle and empty supermarkets because unlike us they had failed to win the lottery in life by being born in the Free West.
Well that, I’m afraid, was another psyop. In reality, we in the Free West were little less in thrall to the Predator Class than our counterparts in the Eastern Bloc: our democratic rights were just as much of a sham; our lives were considered just as valueless by the people poisoning our water and our food, stealing our wealth and sending us off to die, when they could arrange it, in their pointless, fabricated wars. Unlike those downtrodden Commies, though we were too busy stuffing our faces with hamburgers, lusting after Blondie, and hankering after Porsches to notice.
So long as you give people the illusion of freedom of choice, our Dark Overlords have worked out, you can get away with murder.
Jeremy Clarkson, first with Top Gear, now with Clarkson’s Farm has long played a small, but not totally insignificant part in promoting that illusion.
Which isn’t to say he isn’t a very talented writer, an inspired TV comedy character act or a decent, likeable bloke.
On the last score, I’ve met him, and I don’t think there’s a bad bone in his body. What you see of Jeremy on TV is very much what you get in real life. There’s no side to him, for if there were I doubt he would have become the success he has, authenticity being a key part of his appeal. Clarkson’s schtick is to be a curmudgeonly, old fashioned sort who is not afraid to say the stuff you’re not allowed to say any more. He has cornered this market, almost singlehanded, in the otherwise gag-inducingly bien-pensant, parochial, up-its-own-arse world of British television. He does it very well. And I don’t begrudge him a penny of the tens of millions of pounds it has made him over the years. He works very hard and he deserves it.
But it’s quite possible to be doing the Enemy’s work for them without knowing you are doing the Enemy’s work for them. Indeed, that is largely how the system runs.
Clarkson, like everyone else in the public eye, is resolutely Normie in his outlook. When, for example, I met him at a party in the Covid era, he was recovering from the full set of jabs. I cannot remember now whether or not I broached the subject of how the Plandemic had been a massive scam designed to blackmail us in to taking kill shots - he was more interested in asking about my latest TV recommendations - but I do know that had I done so I would have been wasting my breath.
It’s not that Clarkson is stupid or allergic to any opinions but his own or even averse to the general notion that the System is out to get us. Rather, it’s that like everyone else who operates in the sphere of media/politics/entertainment, Clarkson knows instinctively where the edge of acceptable opinion lies. So he’ll be happy to take a risk on something as faux-edgy - and on-brand - as using a dated, almost defunct racial pejorative (‘slope’) to describe an oriental person on a bridge on a Top Gear Burma special because he knows all it will get him is a slap on the wrist from the regulator Ofcom which will only boost his reputation as TV’s loveable naughty boy. But what he won’t ever do is be caught entertaining the kind of opinion - say, Covid was made up; vaccines are designed to kill us; the government knows this - that might jeopardise his career in the mainstream.
There have been times in the past when I have thought him a coward. His continual flip flopping on ‘climate change’ - depending on whether he is being interviewed by the Guardian or bantering on Top Gear - seems especially pusillanimous given that he must know it’s the excuse They are using to get rid of his beloved V8 engines. But I don’t think his positions on the subject are sufficiently thought-through to qualify as full blown cowardice. He probably feels in his bones that climate change is bollocks but has made a tactical decision not to investigate too deeply because then he’d end up nailed down to a position he would have to defend. And Clarkson is an entertainer, not a campaigner, let alone an activist.
Because the fashion these days is for everyone on TV to be seen engaging in activism - from Chris Packham and Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall to Jamie Oliver and the Whispery-Voiced Gorilla Botherer himself - the complicit media has affected to believe that that’s what Clarkson is doing too. In the early seasons of the series, he was accused of being the saviour of British farming; now - because he has opened a pub - he has been accused of trying to save the British pub.
“Can Clarkson’s Farm Save the Great British Pub?” a feature in the Telegraph the other day was actually headlined.
I can answer that: “No”.
In fact Clarkson’s Farm is more likely to hasten the demise of the Great British Pub - and for the same reasons it is more likely to hasten the demise of the Great British Farm.
First, and most obviously, it portrays farming and pub-owning in such a dispiriting light that no one in their right mind would choose to do either. For those currently in these industries, it will confirm that they are right to be considering quitting. Those who might have considered replacing them will quickly change their mind when they realise how overburdened with bureaucracy they will be and how impossible they will find it to make any even a subsistence income.
Yes, of course Clarkson’s Farm has done much to raise public sympathy for farmers - and pub owners. But it does so by presenting their plight in the context of a battle that has already been lost. “Not even Jeremy Clarkson with all the cushioning of his Amazon money and his Sunday Times and Sun column money can make a living out of these businesses,” runs the subtext.
The predominant mood of the show - heavily reinforced by the editing, choice of music, etc - is elegiac. Sure there are some jaunty moments too. But it’s jollity-in-the-face-of-insuperable-odds jauntiness. It’s spirit of Dunkirk jauntiness. It’s yet more of the cultural programming to which the British have been relentlessly subjected since at least Captain Scott’s doomed mission to the Antarctic (1912). “We might no longer great. But we’re still world beaters at heroic failure,” it reassures us.
Even more dangerous than the show’s subtly demoralising tone, though, is its continual misdirection. One, fairly basic example of this is the way Clarkson’s endless difficulties with planning restrictions, environmental regulations and suchlike are presented as the creation of faceless bureaucrats and overzealous jobsworths.
Among the show’s betes noires is West Oxfordshire District Council, whose representatives were responsible for such kill-joy behaviour as voting against Clarkson being permitted to open a restaurant in a disused barn, in the middle of his land, next to his farm shop.
This is fair enough, up to a point. Local councils are indeed full of tinpot dictators whose powers have gone to their head. Some councillors are corrupt, stupid, incompetent or all three. Sometimes they make decisions which are clearly against the interests of the council-taxpayers that they are supposedly there to serve.
But like their counterparts in national government, they are merely functionaries, who take their orders not from below (as the notion of ‘democracy’ gulls us into believing) but from much higher up the food chain. Ultimately, the people calling the shots are the ones who set the global agenda at secretive institutions like the Bilderberg Group, the Committee of 300, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Club of Rome and, a bit lower down in the pecking order, the World Economic Forum. These are the bodies that invent concepts like Sustainable Development Goals, which are then introduced the regulatory system by shadowy ‘Steering Committees.’
Just because these bodies are secretive and shadowy, though, does not mean they are invisible. You only have to look at the Sustainable Development Goal badges - colour wheels worn on the lapel - sported by all the world leaders at their various summits to understand that this the true source of all our rules and regulations. Like the proverbial concentration camp guards, our leaders are only obeying orders.
This might be - indeed it is - a conspiracy. But it is not a theory. It is a conspiracy in plain sight. Which means that no one, such as Clarkson, with a journalistic background and a duty to the public whose opinions they shape can blame their ignorance of the problem on lack of available information. If they are ignorant it is because, for whatever reason, they have chosen to be ignorant.
The word ‘chosen’, though, covers a multitude of possible sins. Yes, it could be that Clarkson knows EXACTLY what is going on and is deliberately concealing it because his wicked paymasters have ordered him to do so. But I think it far more likely that the sin here is the venial one of negligence. Or sloppiness. Or laziness. Or going along to get along. Or, ‘wanting to keep my partner and family in the style to which they have become accustomed.’
And think of the circles in which Clarkson moves. When he’s not busy farming or filming or writing his various columns, he’ll be hanging out either with the Cotswolds smart set or with London media luvvies. Neither of these groups is notably Awake. Like most people, they have been programmed to think that anything that looks like a ‘conspiracy theory’ is not worth investigating, let alone entertaining, because that will render you beyond the pale of rational human discourse. Ergo, even if you do have doubts about the weird weather we’ve been having, best to blame ‘climate change’ - as all the newspapers, including the ones that host your two lavishly paid columns, are doing - rather than ‘geoengineering.’
Still, Clarkson does know about geoengineering. He must do because he once researched a feature item for it on an old episode of Top Gear, where he demonstrated the effects of a rain-making machine.
“NASA is playing God. It’s making its own weather!” he enthused.
Does he imagine that NASA has since lost the technology, a bit like it lost all the telemetry data of its various missions to the moon?
Does he have a very short memory?
Nope. I think much more likely what we have here is a case of Schrödinger's Clarkson - the phenomenon, common among public figures, where you can keep two contrary ideas in your head simultaneously.
So, yes, Clarkson knows that They have the technology to do whatever the hell They like to the weather - and have done probably for decades.
But he also knows that the torrential, worst-in-73-years rain that ruined the harvest at Diddley Squat Farm and every other farm in Britain last year couldn’t possibly be the result of geoengineering because, well for starters, They just haven’t got the technology…
See how it works? We’re back to that Upton Sinclair dictum: “It’s difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it.”
Personally, I think it’s quite painfully obvious that last year’s weather a) had NOTHING to do with the totally made up, Rockefeller-invented concept of ‘Climate Change’ and b) that it was definitely artificially generated by HAARP, NEXRAD, cloud seeding and other Cabal geoengineering devices with the express purpose of crushing the spirit and destroying the finances of British farmers.
But I think it’s equally obvious that never in a million years are you going to get a figure of Clarkson’s level of celebrity or a programme with the reach of Clarkson’s Farm admitting any of this.
This is because the primary purpose of all so called screen ‘entertainment’ is not to entertain you but to brainwash you. The ‘entertainment’ bit is just the delivery mechanism; but the propaganda points are the actual purpose.
Clarkson’s Farm, like all popular TV, is chock full of such propaganda points but most viewers are so busy being amused by Clarkson’s banter or Kaleb’s haircuts or the cuteness of the piglets they don’t notice.
They include:
Gerald getting cancer, Alan the builder having to have quadruple bypass surgery, and Clarkson’s next season near-death collapse - these are just normal things that happen to the over-fifties and nothing whatsoever to do with the vaccines.
Sure all the pubs are closing in Britain. But it’s all to do with little local difficulties like staffing and infrastructure and planning regs and tight margins. Nothing whatsoever to do with a deliberate and concerted plan by the elites to destroy one of the few remaining institutions where people can congregate, drink and talk about the state of the world.
Covid was just another of those things. It just was. Nothing to see there.
Your vet is a lovely, knowledgeable, practical bloke who wouldn’t be given all the animals those jabs if he didn’t know it wasn’t good for them.
Supporting British producers by selling only locally grown produce, bought direct from farmers so as to cut out the middle man, is a great idea in theory but in practice modern supply chains can’t cope.
Regulations - on rewilding, on the kind of seeds you are permitted to sow, the kind of crops you must grow, on what you can and cannot do with your land and buildings, on everything else besides - are just (resigned sigh from Cheerful Charlie) stuff you have to face up to like a grown up and are probably all to the good of the environment. They have nothing whatsoever with the elites’ deliberate and concerted plan to kill property rights, drive farmers out of business and force us all to starve.
This awful weather: even if you didn’t believe in Climate Change before, you can’t not do after this, can you, Clarkson fans?
The world is going to shit. But hey, if TV can’t necessarily save us it can at least give us a few wry laughs on the way out.
If you’re tempted to respond that “well of course, Clarkson’s Farm can’t say any of the edgy, dangerous stuff you’d really like it to say, because then it would never have got made”, I’d say: “Thank you for making my point.”
All TV is enemy propaganda. But the most effective enemy propaganda of all is the stuff that tricks you into thinking it’s the exception to the rule.
