Remember Farmers Weekly's agony uncle Farmer Frank? Well it appears the old goat has become something of an internet star.
He's had a Facebook Appreciation Group set up about him, having become famous answering readers' queries in his own inimitable, unhelpful and often rude way.
Now I'm a bit of a greenhorn when it comes to these things (I've only had Facebook explained to me in the last year of so) but the group, which "shows support for - and celebrates - our dear friend Frank", already has more than 70 members.
Frank has made his name dispensing homespun wisdom on all manner of country matters - whether it's health issues, affairs of the heart, cash topics or more practical agricultural enquires.
He's ruffled a few feathers along the way. After all, this fictional therapist is not qualified, not experienced and, according to some, not all there. But many love the no-nonsense (well, not entirely nonsense) advice of this lovable old rogue.
Here are three examples of his responses:
Q A neighbour was having such problems with people wandering on his land he blocked a footpath with a pile of manure. What's your view on this?
A Blocking a designated footpath with manure is an appalling thing to do. After all, walkers could simply step round a pile of manure. To be really effective, large agricultural implements should have been used.
Q My wife is learning the piano and it's driving me mad. She practises every night and I can't sleep because of the sound of her tinkling on the keyboard.
A My old dad once tinkled on the keyboard. There again, he once tinkled on the carpet, too. And the stairs. Bladder problems run in the family. Literally.
Q I am going to
A It's a misconception that the French eat lots of snails. That's a simplistic and, dare I say it, xenophobic attitude. Everyone knows it's songbirds the froggies eat.
A reporter from FW caught up with Farmer Frank in his local and asked him what he made of this new-found cyberspace fame.
"I've never heard of this Face-whatsit," he replied. "Are there any ladies on it who might like to meet me. I'm very good for my age. I've got all my own teeth. And a bungalow in Skegness. Any chance of a pint?"
FW ended up leaving Frank in the snug bar - apparently he was asked to leave later that evening after brandishing his
If you want to read more of Farmer Frank's musings, you can find them here.