Denis Lehane: I'm the man to run the Queen's farm

The English monarch is in search of a new farm manager, and your ladyship, look no further, writes Farming columnist Denis Lehane.

My first act as farm manager would be to rid the Queen's estate of sheep. File picture

Today is Queen Elizabeth's lucky day. The English monarch is in search of a new farm manager, and your ladyship, look no further.

I'm available with almost immediate effect. I can have my bags packed by this afternoon. The farm here can look after itself. It usually does. I can be on a Ryanair flight out from Farranfore before you can holler "Jack Robinson!"

The job, in so much as it can be called a job, would be in the care and management of about 6,000 acres owned by the Queen. Her ground is located up the country someplace.

She has about 1,000 sheep roaming the spot and 60 sucklers, but with an estate that large, sure who knows what she has. Today you might have 1,000 ewes, tomorrow you could have none at all.

The Queen's farm is so large that it makes no difference where you begin or end. In some ways, it makes no sense at all. Tis so large a fellow could be gone for a week and nobody would know you were gone.

It's organic all the way, I'm told, which suits me down to the ground for I have no interest at all in troubling myself with bags of fertilizer at this stage in my life. The back wouldn't be up to it.

And with the savage price of fertilizer at the moment even the Queen herself would feel the pinch when it comes time to pay. Yes, organic is best. Why burden the Queen with expensive Co-op bills, or the sight of empty fertilizer bags blowing in the wind?

And while having sheep on an estate is a very noble pursuit and one, I'm sure, the Queen is very proud of, my first act as farm manager would be to rid the place of sheep.

"Sheep, my dear woman," I would say to the Queen if I was sitting next to her, "are overrated, and one way of sending a farmer like myself to the madhouse or an early grave."

I would then point out that she is 96 and that I am no spring chicken either. "Looking after sheep is a young man's game."

I would then propose that we get a few nice, quiet and easy-to-manage Friesian bullocks. "Beasts that won't have you running all over the countryside, your honour, and still be something useful to take the edge off the grass.

"We can also make hay during the summer if wild grass becomes a problem. And make plenty of it if needs be," I would declare to the old dear as I sipped on my brandy.

I would have the place running like clockwork in no time. It would be a grand set-up with me in charge. The farm would be as organic as be damned. The place would have a wild and airy feel about it, make no mistake.

And as for a salary, well the way I see it, I don't hardly need money at all. Once I could be guaranteed a nice house to live in, a full cabinet of strong drink to guzzle on, and a fine high jeep from which to issue my orders, my life will be complete.

If the Queen is interested in giving it a lash and hiring me to run the show, I can be contacted right here on this paper. I'm here most Thursdays and will continue to write until I'm royally summoned to the court, or indeed the farm of Queen Elizabeth.

I expect the royal call shortly.