Jeremy Clarkson is a force of nature. Larger than life, (possibly due in part to all that glorious farm food) with the energy of a raging toddler, the optimism of a Ned Flanders, the mouth of a sailor on his fourth case of Hawkstone beer, there appears to be no stopping him. Except there is.
I'm pretty sure that anyone whose dealt with a rural local council over anything more difficult than getting missed bins picked up took one look at the face on the presiding council chief and knew the answer to Jeremy's most reasonable request for planning permission was going to be a big fat "No!"
There are some fantastic people living in the area, many of whom are struggling farmers who deserve every helping hand they can get. But no. Because Jeremy is not considered a 'real farmer' the whole lot can go to the wall with him as far as the council is concerned. Bye bye to the co-opertive they were organising together that could have gone a long way to save them all. A local nameless resident even had a bitter spiteful nasty little lawyer read out a bitter nasty spiteful statement calling Jeremy every bitter spiteful nasty little name in the book. This is small minded Britain at it's worst.
Jealousy is a terrible blight on the character & it seems the area Jeremy is trying to make a go of farming is heaving with it. Because he is well known & has the audacity to be wealthy, he has no business calling himself a human being, let alone a farmer. Everything has been done, above & beyond the call of spite, enforcing policies that are applied normally without the draconian penalties of hatred levelled at him.
I live rural so I get it. You're either in or you're out & if you're out you might as well live on the moon because you'll never ever be accepted as part of the 'us' that is deemed so spectacularly full of wonderfulness. Sadly for Chadlington Oxfordshire, the public really like Jeremy Clarkson evidenced by their willingness to travel miles to visit his shop. There's little chance there will be any purchases made in that village as they journey thru, or anything more than deliberately driving over the no parking cones lined up like Daleks all along the road to make everyone's life a misery & some rubbish thrown out car windows for good measure on the high street. All I can say is, you asked for it.
I'm pretty sure that anyone whose dealt with a rural local council over anything more difficult than getting missed bins picked up took one look at the face on the presiding council chief and knew the answer to Jeremy's most reasonable request for planning permission was going to be a big fat "No!"
There are some fantastic people living in the area, many of whom are struggling farmers who deserve every helping hand they can get. But no. Because Jeremy is not considered a 'real farmer' the whole lot can go to the wall with him as far as the council is concerned. Bye bye to the co-opertive they were organising together that could have gone a long way to save them all. A local nameless resident even had a bitter spiteful nasty little lawyer read out a bitter nasty spiteful statement calling Jeremy every bitter spiteful nasty little name in the book. This is small minded Britain at it's worst.
Jealousy is a terrible blight on the character & it seems the area Jeremy is trying to make a go of farming is heaving with it. Because he is well known & has the audacity to be wealthy, he has no business calling himself a human being, let alone a farmer. Everything has been done, above & beyond the call of spite, enforcing policies that are applied normally without the draconian penalties of hatred levelled at him.
I live rural so I get it. You're either in or you're out & if you're out you might as well live on the moon because you'll never ever be accepted as part of the 'us' that is deemed so spectacularly full of wonderfulness. Sadly for Chadlington Oxfordshire, the public really like Jeremy Clarkson evidenced by their willingness to travel miles to visit his shop. There's little chance there will be any purchases made in that village as they journey thru, or anything more than deliberately driving over the no parking cones lined up like Daleks all along the road to make everyone's life a misery & some rubbish thrown out car windows for good measure on the high street. All I can say is, you asked for it.