Helen Skelton proves a true pro after a very embarrassing moment on TV’s On The Farm

Millions have followed the highs, lows and hilarious moments of TV’s most charming farmers – The Nicholson family.

Their hit shows – Springtime On the Farm, This Week on the Farm, Cannon Hall: A Yorkshire Farm and, most recently, Winter On the Farm – have become well-loved staples of feelgood comfort TV. Presented by Helen Skelton and Jules Hudson, the shows offer an unprecedented peek into life at Barnsley’s Cannon Hall Farm, revealing exactly what it’s like to live with hundreds of animals at the foot of the Pennines.

Now, as we await the next Channel 5 series, brothers Robert, Dave and Richard – along with parents Roger and Cynthia – have revealed some of the funny, uplifting and yes, moo-ving, tales from the family’s 70 years in charge, in a new book, Cannon Hall Farm: Past, Present and Future.

Here, in an exclusive extract, On The Farm’s most vocal stars, Rob and Dave, take us behind the scenes of the show to share some bizarre stories – from Helen’s very embarrassing moment with a randy ram to the hidden dangers of competitive welly tossing…..

DAVE ON…. HELEN SKELTON AND THE RANDY SHEEP PAGEANT

When the most recent series was greenlit, the annual Westmorland Show was on the horizon. It’s one we’d had an eye on for a while. Plus, we knew Helen Skelton was a local girl. “How about we get her in the show ring, see if she can’t win us a rosette or two?” I suggested. “Sounds like a plan,” Rob agreed. For Helen to be in with a chance, the sheep had to look absolutely perfect. So when it came to the day, Rob had booked a chap to give them a haircut. By the time he’d finished with our little flock they looked ready for the ball.

We had a last-minute tidy of the lambs, using oil to smooth the wool on their heads. Somehow it squirted all over one of them, making for a very slippery lamb. Then we applied a little hair dye to the knees of another to cover up scuff marks. “It says here it’s suitable for human use,” Helen said, scanning the label. “It’s probably David’s,” my brother said. “Look at him, he could do with it!”

Next it was time to give Helen some pointers. “Now, Helen, when you go into that ring,” said Robert. “I want you to channel your inner meerkat.” “Meerkat?!,” said Helen.

“That’s right. No matter how much that sheep wriggles,” I said, “Keep your eyes locked on the judge. You might feel like a duck struggling to stay afloat, but you’ve got to look like a swan.” Helen nodded, ticking off a mental checklist. “Try and stand your sheep like a table – very square,” I explained. “With a leg in each corner, and its head up.” “Right,” Helen nodded. “A table.”

All this talk of swans, meerkats and furniture must have been confusing the hell out of her, but Helen took it all in her stride, buttoning up her white show coat and leading our ram, Ghost, into the ring like a seasoned pro.

For the most part, you have to keep a tight hold on your animal and encourage it to stand in a way that shows off its best attributes. But the judge also wants to see how the sheep moves, which means letting it go for a walk around. Unfortunately, these rams don’t have much sense about them when it comes to telling the difference between a male and a female, and there’s definitely an element of seizing the opportunity….

Ghost wandered off and decided to try and mate one of the other male lambs. He was making a fairly decent effort at it, to the point where the judge said, “Helen, would you mind catching your sheep please?”

As it turned out, this little faux pas did Helen no harm at all. She won best ram.

ROB ON..A NOT-SO TEE-TOTAL TEA-PICKING TRIP

When the studio suggested sending us to a tea plantation for an episode of This Week on the Farm, I jumped at the chance. This was my opportunity to cure my little brother David of a tragic, lifelong affliction – he must be the only Yorkshireman on the planet who doesn’t like a brew.

I thought seeing how tea was grown might make a real man of him, and there was no need to fly halfway across the world to visit a plantation. The Jersey Tea Company, just outside St Helier, has been growing organic tea for a decade. The trip was a go. The joke, however, would be on me.

We were fresh out of lockdown and it was the first time either of us had been abroad since before the pandemic. Our great pal, Tim Bilton, was coming along to film a feature on Jersey oysters. With the three of us together, it was a real lads-on-tour vibe, and it’s fair to say that we let over-excitement get the better of us.

I arrived at Manchester Airport with a warning from Springtime’s series producer: “Don’t let me down on this, Rob! It’s cost us a fortune. It needs to be good!” “It will be,” I said. “You can rely on us!” However, my eyes lit up at the sight of the airport bar, and my promise went straight out of the window.

“Who’s for a breakfast pint?” I said, clapping my hands together. We followed up with a couple more, then arrived in St Helier, had a few pints and a curry, and then a few more pints. We were like three schoolkids let loose in the sweetshop. Finally I was ready for bed. However, Tim had other plans. “I think I’ll watch the match,” he said.

Tim’s a monster when it comes to beer, but with several on board already,overconfidence got the better of me. I wasn’t going to be the party pooper. Not tonight. I could match Tim any time!

And after my fill of beer, I started on shots of sambuca. David likes a beer or several as well, but even he was looking at me with concern. “Are you all right?” he said. “Oh, I’m fine!” I slurred. “No problem.”

Waking the next morning, I honestly felt as though I’d somehow managed to dodge any repercussions. “How are you feeling?” David asked. “Not too bad, considering,” I said.

Then…. we set off for the plantation. It should have been a mere 10-minute drive, but after 20 minutes we still weren’t there. The sat nav was taking us the scenic route – and, sat in the back, my stomach was doing somersaults. With every twist and turn in the road I felt more and more nauseous. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and reached for a flimsy plastic bag. “I’m sorry, I’m going to be sick!” I told the driver, before emptying my guts.

I’d opened the floodgates. By the time we arrived at the tea plantation, the bag was fit to burst and I struggled out to empty it into the bushes, while David bounded ahead to greet the Jersey Tea Company’s co-founders, Katherine Boucher and Michelle Pasturel.

“And this is my brother, Robert,” he said, intending to introduce me. Only when he turned around, I was nowhere to be seen. I was hiding behind a car, puking up for the umpteenth time.

I couldn’t believe I’d been so unprofessional. Fifty-odd years old and I was carrying on like a schoolboy who’d nicked a bottle of sherry from his mum and dad’s drinks cabinet. But, as they say, the show must go on….

DAVE ON….GIVING IT SOME WELLY

‘Welly wanging’ is one of the few sports – if you can call it that – where I generally get the better of Rob, so when the idea came up to film some for the show, I was all in. Even though the show goes out live, we always have a quick walk-through before each segment. Brimming with confidence, I grabbed a welly with my right hand, fully prepared to outdo Rob and show him what a champion wang looks like.

I wound up for a mighty throw, but as my arm reached the peak of its swing, I felt a sharp ‘pop’. The welly fell pathetically to the ground a few feet away, and I looked at my arm to see my bicep bunched into a hard knot of muscle. “My arm’s gone!” I said through clenched teeth. “Any excuse,” Rob laughed. “I’m serious,” I said. “I’m going to have to go left-handed.”

Ten minutes later, we were live on air. I managed a respectable left-handed throw, but it was nowhere near long enough – or so I thought. In a stroke of luck, Rob’s welly bounced out of bounds. My welly wanging crown was intact, even if my arm was in bits. “I think you need the hospital,” the show medic advised me. But we still had a week of filming to do. “I’ll get the show out of the way first.” I said.

The following day, I had my arm strapped up in a sling, yet still managed to trump Rob in an axe throwing competition, and with my left hand again, too.

At the end of the week, I finally dragged myself to hospital. I’d torn a ligament from the bone. Surgery was inevitable. But I bet Rob’s defeats were more painful than my injury!

Cannon Hall Farm: Past, Present and Future, published by Mirror Books, is out now and available from all good bookshops, or via Amazon here