Jeremy Clarkson Admits ‘Things Are Still Pretty Terrible’ at His Farmer’s Dog Pub as He Slams the State of Britain’s Hospitality Industry

Jeremy Clarkson has never been shy about voicing his opinions, but his latest comments about the struggling British pub industry strike a noticeably darker tone. Nearly a year after opening his much-publicised pub, The Farmer’s Dog, the Clarkson’s Farm star has admitted that while the business is surviving, the reality behind the scenes remains “pretty terrible.”

The former Top Gear host opened The Farmer’s Dog in April 2024, positioning it as an extension of the values he has championed on screen: British produce, rural communities, and the idea that pubs remain the beating heart of the countryside. At the time, fans flocked to the Burford-based venue, eager to support Clarkson’s latest venture. Yet the initial buzz, he suggests, has done little to shield the pub from the wider crisis facing hospitality across the UK.

Since the pub’s launch, the political landscape has shifted dramatically. The Labour Party came to power later in 2024, with Keir Starmer becoming Prime Minister after a decisive general election victory. Clarkson has been openly critical of the new government, and his frustration appears to be growing rather than easing.

In recent months, Clarkson made headlines after announcing that Labour MPs were banned from his pub—a symbolic protest, he said, against rising taxes and policies he believes are suffocating small businesses. Now, in his latest column for The Times, Clarkson has expanded on those concerns, warning that proposed changes to drink-driving limits could deliver yet another blow to pubs already on their knees.

According to Clarkson, lowering the legal drink-drive limit would further discourage customers from visiting rural pubs, many of which rely heavily on patrons who have no alternative transport. “People simply won’t come,” he has argued, framing the proposal as another example of policymakers failing to grasp how hospitality actually functions outside major cities.

Clarkson claims the problem is not limited to one policy decision, but reflects a broader hostility toward business. To illustrate his point, he referenced celebrity chef Tom Kerridge, who has reportedly questioned whether it is even worth keeping some restaurants open amid soaring costs. Rising taxes, increased energy bills, and higher wages have combined to create what Clarkson sees as an unsustainable environment.

“At my pub, the Farmer’s Dog, things aren’t quite so bleak,” Clarkson wrote, before adding pointedly, “but they’re still pretty terrible.”

He went on to outline the figures he says are threatening the viability of his business. According to Clarkson, the pub’s rateable value could jump from £27,250 to £55,000—a dramatic increase that would significantly raise business rates. On top of that, changes to National Insurance contributions have reportedly added an extra £42,000 a year to the pub’s wage bill.

For Clarkson, the mathematics simply do not work. Passing these costs on to customers, he argues, is unrealistic at a time when households are already under severe financial pressure. “How can you pass this on,” he asked, “when they have a £2 billion gas bill to pay and they can’t get there anyway because of the new drink-driving rules?”

The tone of Clarkson’s criticism goes beyond economic frustration and into outright anger at what he perceives as ideological opposition to enterprise. He suggested that many senior figures in government lack firsthand experience of running a business, making it difficult for them to understand the consequences of their decisions. But, in his view, ignorance is not the full story.

“It’s not that they don’t understand business,” Clarkson concluded. “They actively hate it.”

The comments reflect a wider debate raging across the hospitality sector. Pub closures have continued at an alarming rate, particularly in rural areas, where higher operating costs and fewer customers leave little room for error. Clarkson’s high profile gives his complaints extra visibility, but many publicans have echoed similar concerns in recent months.

Despite the bleak assessment, Clarkson did acknowledge a rare piece of good news. After a year-long planning battle, he recently secured approval from West Oxfordshire District Council to expand The Farmer’s Dog’s car parking facilities by laying hard surfacing in both car parks. The decision follows long-running complaints about congestion and safety issues caused by the pub’s popularity.

Clarkson described the ruling as a small but meaningful victory, suggesting it could help ease visitor access and reduce friction with local residents. For fans of Clarkson’s Farm, the decision also signals that the pub—much like Diddly Squat Farm itself—is not going anywhere just yet.

Still, the underlying message of Clarkson’s column is clear: passion alone cannot keep pubs alive. Even celebrity-backed venues with national attention are vulnerable in an environment of rising costs and regulatory pressure. Clarkson’s blunt admission that things remain “pretty terrible” cuts through the glamour often associated with his projects and exposes the fragile reality beneath.

Whether one agrees with his political conclusions or not, Clarkson’s warning resonates far beyond his own pub. The Farmer’s Dog may be weathering the storm for now, but his message is stark: without meaningful change, Britain risks losing not just pubs, but the communities and traditions that depend on them.

For a man who once treated pub lunches as a punchline on television, Clarkson now finds himself fighting for survival in an industry he believes is being pushed to breaking point—and this time, the joke, he insists, is on Britain itself.