For reasons I don’t understand my farming show is not officially available in China. But that doesn’t stop them watching it, and in vast numbers it seems, because on any given day a significant number of people who come to our Diddly Squat farm shop are Chinese.
It’s weird because in the western world, farming is farming. It doesn’t matter whether you’re French or Australian or Hungarian, you have the same two basic problems: the weather and the government. But in China it’s different. Land ownership is impossible, so everyone is a tenant and they have a rice-based diet. Our crops, then, are as meaningless to them as their love of the gizzard is to us.
So why are they watching? It’s a question I put to one of the visitors to the farm shop. His answer was tremendous. “It’s because we cannot believe how incompetent you are.” Over there, they are bombarded with stories of successful people doing things well, so it makes a nice change to see a fat man f***ing everything up.
That said, though, we recently hosted a Chinese agricultural delegation who were on a fact-finding mission in the UK. So plainly the high-ups are interested in what we’re up to. Very interested in fact. I showed them one of our hen houses, which may look like a miniature Romany caravan but inside it’s all quite high-tech.
Every Brit that’s seen it says, “Oh that’s cute,” and then wants to go to the pub. But not our Chinese friends. They took photographs of the door hinges, the solar-power system, the roosting bars. Everything. And I just know that by the middle of next week, copies will be rolling down the production line at the People’s Hen House Factory No 47.
I admire the Chinese. I first went there in 1984 and it was like I’d arrived in the Middle Ages. I went on a sooty, rattly steam train from Beijing to Zhengzhou and the lavatory was one of the carriages with a hole in the floor. Everyone had missed it.
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But their trains now, just 40 years later, make the French TGV look like something George Stephenson would describe as “a bit old-fashioned”. And then we have their cars. As recently as 20 years ago they had three wheels and a seat that fell over whenever you accelerated. Whereas today there’s a carmaker called BYD — revoltingly, it stands for Build Your Dreams — that sold more than 35,000 cars in the UK alone in the first nine months of this year. That’s more than Mini, Honda, Fiat, Mazda, Seat and many more of the established companies.
And it’s not just in the cost-conscious arena where they are dominating. Because a BYD called the YangWang U9 has just set a new speed record for road cars: a scarcely believable 308.4mph. So. They came. They saw. They copied. And now they’re conquering.
Their next target, I’m told, is the pick-up truck market and that should be easy pickings for one simple reason. When you buy a car there’s often an emotional, irrational angle to the choices you make. You want a Seat because you enjoy holidaying in Spain. You want a Fiat because it’s only one step removed from a Ferrari. You want a Jag because you always rather liked Arthur Daley.
But with pick-up trucks, the only things that matter are running costs and practicality. Does a farmer or a forester care where it’s from, or whether the company that made it once won a grand prix at Pau? No, he does not. So if he’s offered a Chinese truck that’s cheaper to run and more practical than any of the others, he’s going to buy it. I know this because I’ve just bought a Chinese-made buggy. A CFMoto, if you’re interested.
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For now, though, if you want a pick-up truck in this country, the only sensible choice is the Ford Ranger. I’ve been trying out a new version that Ford hopes will stop the Chinese in their tracks. At first, I didn’t think I’d be able to write a review because I couldn’t make the damn thing move. I climbed in, pressed the starter button and instead of a reassuring noise from under the bonnet, all I got was a message on the dash asking some damn fool health-and-safety-related question. I couldn’t find any way of answering, so I gave up and used my Range Rover instead.
After three days curiosity got the better of me, so I tried again and realised why there was no noise. It was a plug-in hybrid (Phev). The first of its kind in Europe. So I set off and after a while the health-and-safety question disappeared.
So what’s it like? To cover the unimportant stuff first, it’s surprisingly car-like to drive, very quiet, has turn-on-and-offable four-wheel drive, rides nicely and the interior is well equipped and nicely appointed. The leather, for instance, has contrasting stitching. So while you may be loading logs, you’ll feel like you’re at Paris Fashion Week. Oh, and you can turn the speed-limit bonger off in well under 15 minutes, so that’s good as well.
Right. Now let’s get serious. Normally, a plug-in hybrid would cause me to fall into a deep sleep. When it comes to cars, this sort of technology is just ridiculous and I’m bored stiff with hearing about all the advantages. There aren’t any.
However, a pick-up truck is not a car. I know Rachel Reeves thinks it is and will tax it accordingly, but she’s wrong. It’s not. It’s a tool, and as a tool the Phev stuff makes sense. You get 20 or so miles of electric range, enough for the average day at Diddly Squat, and then you only need to plug it in to charge it up again. Or you can use the 2.3-litre engine to do that.
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Then, in the load bay, there are two 13-amp sockets, which means you can use the battery pack as a silent generator if you want to use some kind of electric power tool. This would be very useful if, say, you wished to suck some blackberries off the bush using a hoover.
On the downside, the load bed has been raised to accommodate the battery pack. So you are losing practicality over the normal version. Interestingly, there’s no difference in the weight of the trailer both are allowed to tow. Thanks to its batteries, the Phev’s gross weight is 150kg more than the standard truck, yet it retains its ability to lug 3.5 tonnes around.
All things considered, I liked this truck. So did my dogs. And so did Kaleb, my farm manager. It felt as if it had been carefully thought out by people who actually do manly stuff in the mud all day. It even has a step cut into the bodywork so the shorter gentleman can reach in the back more easily. And it’s well priced, but the trouble is you can make a pick-up truck in China for less. Yes, Ford has won Le Mans and BYD hasn’t (yet). But farmers don’t care about that, I’m afraid.