Denis Lehane: The danger of becoming an armchair farmer in 2022
Don't call Denis Lehane an armchair farmer. Picture: iStock
I became an armchair farmer over Christmas - but I'm alright now.
It all began on Christmas Eve when I settled down to watch Indiana Jones on the television.
I happened to be sitting on a hard chair by the table. A bit like Indiana Jones himself, life was uncomfortable.
Suddenly, I felt the draw of the armchair.
Perhaps I was tired; perhaps I was naive - really I don't know, reflecting back on it now.
Anyway, over I went to the corner of the room and settled myself in to watch Mr Jones and his father fight the bad eggs.
Boy golly, life felt comfortable in the armchair, no wonder us farmers are being warned against the dangers of it.
After fixing myself a nice cup of tea, not only did I enjoy the film, but the chair too. Indeed, from that moment on it damn nearly took over my life.
On Christmas day, once I had the turkey, brussels sprouts and pudding down the hatch, it was to the armchair I headed once again.
'Twas the dangerous game I was playing.
'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang' was on the box and not only did I enjoy that, but also the movie 'Jaws' which followed later in the evening.
'Jaws' has always been one of my favourite Christmas movies.
It's a movie where this man says "We need a bigger boat."
Well, I didn't need a bigger chair, for the armchair suited me down to the ground. Or at least that is what I thought.
And indeed, when Rear Window appeared on screen a little later in the night, sure I found there was no moving me. I was bolted to the chair, like actor James Stewart was bolted to his.
The armchair, whatever was in it, has a draw like no other item of furniture. It's like something from a Hitchcock movie in its own way.
Well, to cut a long story short, 'twas the following morning when my missus woke up and found me still on the armchair that all hell broke loose.
I was fast asleep, well she let out a scream.
"Oh Lord above!" she shrieked. "You have become one of them armchair farmers! We are doomed! Doomed I tell you all."
And with that, I came to life. I bounded from the dreadful thing, for I knew what she was implying.
Of all the deadly accusations levelled at a farmer today, to be accused of being an armchair farmer is the worst of all.
You can be a good farmer, you can be a bad farmer, but nobody wants to be an armchair farmer.
If it is proven that you are one, your life will be made a misery. Your farm payments and entitlements could be whipped from under you.
Your life won't be worth living, as you wave goodbye to your hopes of survival on the land.
Of course, at first, I was in denial. For I didn't realise I had an attachment to the blasted thing.
But as St Stephen's day wore on and the next day followed, I found a strong desire within me to return to the armchair.
And damn it all, in the finish it took every bit of my willpower to resist the pull of the most evil chair in the world.
"Be gone, armchair from hell!" I bellowed in the finish, for now I knew the power it contained.
Forget about the vices of drink or women, it's the armchair that we should fear most.
Thankfully I feel I'm over it now, and so can continue on my path to a brighter farming future.
In 2022 call me anything you like, but don't dare call me 'The armchair farmer.'
