A TELEVISION audience of millions, beautiful scenery, fantastic drama — but enough about the new series of ITV detective show Lewis, it’s time for the Tour de France.

Up near Low Row on Saturday we saw a ewe and two lambs wandering in the road. Clearly nobody had told them the rules about keeping the route clear.

I wasn’t sure whether to call someone, anyone, in France to discuss the potential problem. “Allo, Vanessa Paradis? Il ya une effronte mouton dans le route pour Le Tour à Swaledale — c’est une catastrophe.”

“Allo, Alain Prost? Vanessa Paradis ne se soucie pas sur effronte mouton dans le route pour Le Tour à Swaledale. Je sais, je sais — c’est une catastrophe.”

It also crossed my mind that I should do my bit to help the race pass smoothly by getting out of the car and beating the sheep with the car jack to teach them a lesson about jeopardising the huge economic benefit we have been promised.

Apparently house prices jump by five to ten per cent in pretty places where the tour visits, which is a bonus because we and a few friends with young families have been able to afford houses in the area recently, and will — unlike second home and holiday cottage owners — be demanding to use expensive facilities such as schools and doctors.

I was going to beat the sheep, but then I remembered the car didn’t have a jack, just a can of glue and an electric pump — and I was not prepared to go there.

Are you authorised sheep? Or emergency sheep? No. You’re naughty sheep. Get out of the road or you will be towed.

I am quite excited though, if only to see the happy, smiling faces on the children’s faces as they witness such a huge event — and to find out how many people are prepared to pay £5 (£15 for families) to stand in a field near Hawes.

I kind of wish I had something to hawk to the gathering hordes. Perhaps people would like to use the boys’ toilet for 50p, which by a happy coincidence often has a yellow seat.

Welcome to the Yorkshire Dales. Please leave your empty wallet on a drystone wall when you depart.