Competitive city values have invaded the peace of the vegetable patch and the horticultural tent. Marrows have been speared with a metal spike and cabbages have been sprayed with weedkiller by a saboteur targeting prize-winning producers in Torquay. The police rather than Wallace & Gromit have been alerted to the fact that a were-rabbit or jealous rival is on the loose in Devon, and gardeners are clinging on to their carrot tendrils in fear.
But ruthless competition and sabotage have always been an integral part of agricultural shows. Almost every day this summer there has been an event on Exmoor that has caused heartache and ecstasy. One local village (population 850) had both an edible marrow and a giant marrow competition that caused deep consternation after the judge dug his nail into the edible front-runner and proclaimed the skin too tough. My friend won first prize for five different herbs not in flower and was thrilled, although she was beaten to best overall exhibit by a leek. Even the children’s classes were highly fought over — 16 things in a matchbox, neatest knitted square, best child dog-handler — and all for a rosette or a bag of dog food.
In Withypool the toughest fight was over best single bloom.
City bankers on holiday in their Le Chameau wellies looked on in awe. Everything except babies are compared (and bonny baby competitions only stopped a few years ago). Most competitions are highly lookist, size rather than character is all and some entrants resort to superglue and Polyfilla to achieve their aims. The locals pretend it’s all just good fun to raise money for the local hall/church/hunt, but few outsiders would dare to enter the best Battenberg after they have seen the judges being withering about the consistency of a sponge.
If you compete on The X Factor you may have to face an audience of ten million, but at these shows you can bump into your competitors every day at the supermarket, the allotment or on the tractor. No wonder some vegetable fanciers become desperate when they fail to produce a 50lb beetroot and resort to illegal measures. Marrowgate could become nastier than anything Westminster can produce as David Cameron could testify. He takes the growing of his marrows as seriously as his manifesto.
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If only the countryside dwellers were as ruthless in other areas, instead of allowing the cities to treat them as second-rate produce.
They need to use the grit and determination that has enabled them to produce 900lb pumpkins to start fighting back and make sure their causes, not just their cauliflowers, are noticed on the national stage.