Brexit fears: Hundreds of farmers may go bust without tariff-free access to EU

Sixty years or so ago, a Labour leader, urging his party not to toy with the idea of joining the then-EC, had this to say: "It is the end of a thousand years of history.

"You may say, all right, let it end, but my goodness, it is a decision that needs a little care and thought."

It turns out that Hugh Gaitskell was wrong. Europe wasn't the end of history after all.

History has bitten back and now we know the outcome: we're on our way back out.

As the 730-day countdown begins and the seconds start counting down, I'll be venturing to every corner of the kingdom on the Lewis Lorry, with a digital countdown emblazoned and ticking on its side.

We'll be reminding the politicians just how little time there is to undertake the biggest reorganisation of British public life in our peacetime history.

I began my journey in Monmouthshire in South Wales.

This bucolic spot, the gateway of the Brecon Beacons, was one of the few counties in the country to vote Remain in June's referendum, albeit narrowly by 50.7% to Leave's 49.3%.

The region is dominated by - what else in Wales - sheep farms. Dotted on virtually every hillside, small white blobs of fluff. What you can't see is the virtual euro sign hovering above each one.

Every farm in Wales, like the rest of the country, is subsidised by the EU.

John Biggs has tended to his flock in this patch for half a century. He's in no doubt where the majority of his colleagues would be without that money:

"On the dole, they'd give up. We're hardly making any money as it is. I hope the Government extends the system beyond 2020."

Currently the Government has guaranteed the money up to 2020, which when you consider we won't leave the EU and stop receiving the cash until we leave in 2019, isn't saying very much.

As I (sort of) help (but mainly hinder) John's efforts in taking his sheep to a local auction, as he does every week, I'm told the little colours tagged on the animals' backs give lots of clues as to their fates.

Slaughter, resale, shearing, unsold, too big, too small and crucially, export. And that's a fair number of them - we export around a third of all of our lamb produce in the UK and a whopping 95% of that goes to the EU (I've resisted all day from making a ewe joke).

So the farmers here are desperate for a deal guaranteeing tariff-free access to the single market.

If there isn't, then British exports to the continent could face an enormous 50% border tax when sold there.

As Nick Turner, another local farmer selling his wares, tells me: "If there isn't free access there is no doubt, there will be hundreds of farmers who go bust."

And as a local NFU representative tells me, there won't be any chance of filling the gap elsewhere either: "Boris Johnson has said we can fill the gap by selling to the rest of the world. He needs to join the real world.

"There's no way we can compete with New Zealand and China in the growth markets of the south, they're just too close. We need to sell to France, Spain and Germany."

So Remain capital of Wales then? Well erm... no. Virtually all of the farmers I spoke to here voted Leave.

They might not rear turkeys but you might ask why then, they seem to have voted for Christmas.

Well, as John told me, it ain't all about farming: "I voted for Brexit, plainly because it was about democracy and the best way of running our country. Farming didn't come into my decision."

Remarkable selflessness or stupidity? Well weirdly it also betrays a real faith in the British state to sort things out, as John says: "It's in everyone's interests. It's common sense, I'm sure the Government will be able to sort it."

For the sake of all the farmers I met, they have to hope their instincts and faith in common sense are right.

Some 730 days to unpick a union and replace it with something else. Farming is a big piece of that puzzle.

But the clock is ticking now and my journey, until it reaches zero, has begun too.