Clarkson, never one to sugarcoat things, has called the pub venture a “total disaster” financially. Despite investing nearly £1 million to buy and renovate the place, he’s been candid about the relentless costs that come with keeping the doors open. There’s £100 a day just for generator fuel, £400 a week to keep the outdoor terrace warm, and a staggering £27,000 a month on parking and traffic marshals to keep the council happy. Add it all up, and you’re looking at hundreds of thousands a year before you’ve even paid the staff or bought a single sausage roll.
The Farmer’s Dog isn’t suffering from a lack of customers—on opening day, people queued for hours just to get in, and the pub remains a social phenomenon in the area. But as Clarkson puts it, “turning their visits into a profit is nigh-on impossible.” The commitment to serving only British food and drink, while admirable, means higher ingredient costs and no shortcuts on the menu. No coffee, no ketchup, no Coca-Cola—just the best of British, which doesn’t come cheap.
It’s not just the money woes, either. Clarkson has had to deal with everything from planning restrictions and dodgy water quality to the kind of customer toilet disasters that would make even the most hardened publican wince. And if you complain about the prices on social media? Clarkson might just ban you from the pub entirely—he’s already barred a few, including his own friends and even the Prime Minister, for good measure.
So, is The Farmer’s Dog a roaring success? In terms of community spirit and British eccentricity, absolutely. But as a business, it’s a sobering reminder that even a celebrity name and a loyal crowd can’t always turn a pint into profit. If anything, Clarkson’s latest adventure proves that running a pub is less about easy money and more about stubborn passion—and maybe, just maybe, having a sense of humour when the accounts don’t quite balance.
Facebook Conversations