Jeremy Clarkson Admits He’s “Old and Broken” as He Makes Major Change at Diddly Squat Farm

Jeremy Clarkson has confessed that age is finally catching up with him, forcing him to make a major change to his beloved fleet of vehicles at Diddly Squat Farm. The 65-year-old television presenter and Clarkson’s Farm star admitted he’s “old and broken” as he adjusts to the physical realities of running a working farm — a job that’s proving tougher on his body than he ever imagined.

In his typical dry humour, the Grand Tour host shared his reflections on aging, farming, and machinery in his latest Sunday Times column, where he revealed that he’s been forced to part ways with one of his favourite — and most unusual — farm vehicles.

Farming Isn’t Quite What He Expected

Clarkson began his journey into agriculture six years ago, after deciding to run his 1,000-acre Oxfordshire farm himself when his longtime farmer retired. What began as a whimsical experiment has since become the inspiration for Clarkson’s Farm, Amazon Prime’s hit reality series that captures both the comedy and chaos of his efforts to become a farmer.

“Since I started in the fields six years ago, I’ve realised that farming is ideal for those who don’t like to work up a sweat,” Jeremy joked. “Only mattress testers have an easier, more sedentary life.”

With his usual self-deprecating wit, he added that his day-to-day farm work doesn’t exactly qualify as strenuous labour. “I burn about two calories an hour,” he said, explaining that much of his time is spent either driving machinery or battling mountains of paperwork to comply with the endless rules set by Defra — the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A Military Machine on the Farm

Among Clarkson’s collection of farm vehicles, one stands out for its sheer eccentricity — the Supacat. Originally designed as a military vehicle for battlefield recovery missions, the six-wheel drive, semi-amphibious machine has long been one of Jeremy’s favourite toys. He picked it up several years ago for £9,000 and has often used it to collect firewood and haul supplies around the rugged terrain of his property.

“Supacats were originally designed to recover broken Land Rovers from the battlefield,” he explained. “So there’s absolutely no question about its ability to go anywhere. It doesn’t get stuck and it doesn’t damage the earth.”

The Devon-built beast, fitted with wide, soft tyres, quickly became an essential part of his daily operations. “No matter what the weather’s doing, I can fire up the Supacat, attach the trailer using an extremely manly NATO hitch, and head off for firewood,” he said when he first acquired it.

The Problem: Getting In and Out

Despite his admiration for the Supacat’s power and reliability, Clarkson now admits that his advancing age has made operating it more of a challenge than an adventure.

Writing candidly, he confessed, “It is quite difficult to get in and out of if you are old and broken.” The steep climb, rugged frame, and lack of comfort that once made it thrilling now make it impractical — even painful — for the 65-year-old broadcaster.

Faced with the reality of his “old and broken” body, Clarkson decided it was time for an upgrade. As much as it pained him to part with his beloved army surplus vehicle, he began looking for a replacement that would be easier on his joints — but still tough enough to handle the demands of the Cotswold countryside.

The Hunt for a Replacement

Clarkson’s search led him to consider several options, including the futuristic Polaris Ranger XP Kinetic Ultimate — a fully electric, high-end utility vehicle priced at £44,000. But while the eco-friendly machine seemed appealing on paper, the lifelong petrolhead had serious reservations.

“Being electric, it doesn’t offer the audible feedback of a petrol engine that’s working hard,” he wrote. “You know instinctively when you’ve applied the correct amount of power because you can hear it. But in an electric vehicle, there’s no sound. You press the accelerator and nothing happens.”

That silence, he explained, makes driving feel unnatural and disconnected. For a man who has built his entire career around the roar of internal combustion engines, the thought of silently gliding across the fields simply didn’t sit right.

Enter the CFMoto UForce U10 Pro

In the end, Clarkson opted for a more traditional — and far cheaper — solution: the petrol-powered CFMoto UForce U10 Pro, a Chinese-made utility vehicle known for its comfort, reliability, and value.

The CFMoto, he explained, is far kinder to his 65-year-old body than the hulking Supacat ever was. “Compared to the Supacat, it’s a good deal comfier,” he admitted. “It has two deluxe bench seats for up to six riders, power windows, and an innovative push-button electric shift that cuts down on the amount of muscle power required.”

The model, which costs significantly less than the Polaris, also meets his practical needs — robust enough to handle Diddly Squat’s muddy fields while being far easier to enter and exit.

“It’s been on the farm for a couple of months now,” Jeremy reported, “and I must say it’s very practical, very robust, and extremely useful.”

A New Favourite — But Not Without Problems

Of course, life at Diddly Squat is rarely straightforward, and Clarkson’s latest addition has already introduced a new, unexpected problem: his dogs.

“The only negative I’ve found so far is how popular it has been with some members of the Diddly Squat team,” he joked. “On day one, my dogs leapt into the pick-up bed and since then have pretty much refused to get out.”

Despite the canine occupation, Clarkson seems more than satisfied with his purchase, noting that the CFMoto has quickly become a vital part of the farm’s day-to-day routine.

Accepting Age — with a Laugh

While his “old and broken” comment was made with tongue firmly in cheek, there’s an underlying note of realism in Clarkson’s words. Farming, even with modern machinery, is demanding work — and as he enters his mid-sixties, he’s clearly learning to adapt rather than push his limits.

From hauling firewood to filing endless forms, Clarkson continues to balance the physical and bureaucratic challenges of farming with his trademark mix of frustration, humour, and defiance. And although he might no longer be able to clamber in and out of a military-grade vehicle with ease, he’s proving that a bit of comfort doesn’t have to come at the expense of productivity.

For fans of Clarkson’s Farm, his candid admission is just another reminder of why the show remains such a hit: behind the bluster and bravado, Jeremy Clarkson is simply a man trying — often unsuccessfully, but always entertainingly — to make sense of life on the land.