Only now the supercars have been replaced with tractors, the racetrack has become a paddock and instead of debating lap times, he’s trying to work out why the British Government has decided farmers are a cash cow ready for milking. Throw in a healthy dose of weather chat and you’ve pretty much got the formula.
And just like every season before it, it reminds viewers of one simple truth.
Farming is hard. Bloody hard.
Which can be eye-opening, because from the outside it can look a pretty sweet gig. Driving tractors that cost more than the average first home, working outdoors, the odd crop circle for entertainment and some Red Band tan lines.
The reality, as the programme reminds us, is somewhat different.
Farming is a business where your biggest business partner is the weather. Unfortunately, it’s the sort of business partner you simply can’t rely on. The kind that steals the office petty cash, runs off with the receptionist and eats the sandwich you very clearly labelled with your name in the staffroom fridge.
And when you think the weather is your only nemesis, somebody reminds you there’s still commodity prices, regulations, machinery breakdowns and about 47 other things waiting patiently to ruin your week.
So, like Clarkson, why not add pub ownership into the mix?
Now I’ll admit, owning a country pub has always seemed like one of those wonderfully romantic ideas. You picture polished wooden bars, and locals solving the world’s problems over a quiet pint.
The reality, of course, is staff shortages, suppliers, compliance, loo flows, margins, renovations and discovering that running a successful pub requires considerably more than pulling the occasional pint.
Personally, I think Clarkson slightly overcomplicated things. The formula for a great country pub is actually pretty simple.
Wedges that arrive with sour cream as standard, because charging extra for sour cream should be a matter for The Hague.
Urinal lollies. And once again, for health and safety reasons, I’d like to point out they’re absolutely not lollies.
A meat raffle on Tuesday night, and at least one local who appears to have occupied the same barstool since the pub opened.
But this season did something the previous ones haven’t.
It opened our eyes to the fragility of human life. He didn’t shy away from talking about his health.
It wasn’t overdramatic, and it wasn’t played for sympathy. It was simply honest. Here was a bloke who had built a career around appearing larger than life, admitting that, like the rest of us, he’s not indestructible.
That resonated with me.
Last year, I learned a similar lesson when it came to my own heart.
Like a lot of blokes, I probably thought I’d get around to looking after it tomorrow. The trouble with tomorrow is that sometimes it arrives a little sooner than you expected.
And while we’re on the subject of health, this time of year can be just as tough on the mind as it is on the body.
Winter might have shorter days, but the workload doesn’t magically disappear just because the sun does.
And sometimes the hardest paddock to look after isn’t the one out the back, it’s our top paddock.
That’s why this time of year is a good reminder that looking after ourselves deserves to be on the to-do list as well.
It might be taking half a day off or calling in on a neighbour.
Or simply asking a mate, “How are things going?” then waiting long enough to hear the answer beyond, “Yeah… not too bad.”
It’s one of the reasons I admire what Farmstrong continues to do.
Not because they pretend farming is easy, quite the opposite.
They simply remind us that looking after ourselves is just as important as looking after the farm.
And perhaps Clarkson has accidentally done something similar, by showing that even someone whose entire public persona was built around confidence can admit they’re finding parts of life difficult.
Finally, because this is an article about Clarkson’s Farm, I’d be remiss if I didn’t once again campaign for the New Zealand version.
I’m still convinced Hosking’s Farm would be television gold.
Mike remains the central character, naturally, still impeccably dressed. Still somehow managing not to get his Italian loafers muddy while explaining, in a perfectly timed Mike’s Minute, why his Lamborghini tractor should qualify for fringe benefit tax exemptions.
But every great television show needs fresh characters.
This season, I’d add Chlöe Swarbrick to the cast.
Imagine the two of them standing in the middle of a paddock discussing regenerative farming, emissions and whether sheep should be entitled to collective bargaining rights.
So if you haven’t already watched Clarkson’s Farm, I’d genuinely recommend it. Not because it’ll teach you how to run a farm. It won’t. But because it might just remind you that the people who feed us have one of the toughest jobs in the country.
And if there’s one thing this latest season also reminded me of, it’s that looking after the farm starts with looking after the farmer.
So if you’ve been putting off that doctor’s appointment, take this as your reminder to book it.
The paddock will still be there tomorrow.