CRAZY. Deluded. Headed for disaster. Les Knipe has had many an insult hurled at him during his near 30-year stint in the world of doorstep dairy delivery.

Good job he’s got a lot of bottle.

In fact it is an unflinching attitude which has ensured the survival of this maverick of milkmen. He tore up the rule book, ignored detractors and in doing so kept afloat in an increasingly challenging industry.

When you consider that in 1980, 89 per cent of household milk was delivered, and in 2015 this figure was just three per cent, it is a remarkable feat that Les has not just kept going but actually expanded the business.

“They told me that milkmen would be gone by the start of the millennium, but here I am.”

L and H Dairies now delivers to 800 doors across south Cumbria, including a string of businesses, and has a staggering 300 products on its books.

The father-of-two began life as a milkman as a franchisee for Dairy Crest in 1990, taking over a Walney round from the Bell family, who had covered it since 1948.

At the time, there were 20 rounds in Barrow alone, five on Walney, another five in Dalton and six in Ulverston.

"Back then, everyone got their milk from a milkman," said Les.

Unhelpfully, it was around this time that the big supermarkets began the price wars which have been one of the biggest factors in turning the milkman into a dying breed.

Despite this, he took a risk and bought the round from Dairy Crest in 1995.

He said: “I had two kids, a wife and a mortgage, so I really had to think. I decided to give it three years.”

One of the main reasons was the ambition to shape the business to meet the demands of modern consumers, drum up more custom and take a more innovative approach.

Les said: "Dairy Crest would do weekly promotions. One week it’d be orange juice or something, but to me the timings were always wrong.

“I just thought, if I am already bringing milk to the doorstep, why couldn't I be bringing potatoes, eggs and cheese as well?”

Arguably the defining moment came in 2001, when Les switched from morning to evening deliveries, much to the horror of many fellow milkmen.

Les recalled: "I was getting up at 3am and going and delivering and I'd be clanging and banging gates, waking people up.

"I just thought, no-one wants to be woken up at that time. They don't want you on their doorstep the same.

"They said I was mad, but I've never looked back. Once they saw it could work some of the others started as well."

The Rugby League fan has moved to online orders and, on top of the traditional glass-bottled milk, sourced from Clifton Dairies in Lancashire, he delivers everything from soy milk to dog food.

Beyond the day job, Les has represented the industry for Dairy UK and lobbied the highest levels of government on all things milky.

Historically, the British milkman has perceived as both a pillar of the community and an unlikely sex symbol. A cheery, whistling chap who totters along at 2mph in a rackety old cart.

Les is different. He has a mini-fleet of vans at his base in Crooklands Industrial Estate, Dalton, and a mini army of youngsters who hop on and off the vehicles in hoodies and high-vis vests.

He said: “I’ve had 120 milk lads who’ve worked for me over the years. As they’ve become adults, Hazel and I have had invites to the 18ths, the 21sts, the weddings and christenings. That stuff doesn’t make you money, but you can’t put a price on it.”

One hallmark of the past he does cling on to, however, is visibility. For him, it's all about brand awareness through canvassing, social media and generally raising the profile of L and H Dairies.

He believes that its mantra 'support your local milkman' is increasingly appealing to consumers fed up with the supermarket giants.

Les said: "The way I see it, nobody gets customer service anymore.

"A mother brings her children home from school and she’s run out of milk. Yes, she can go to the shop, but there’s no way she’ll only come home with that one item.

"Look at supermarkets and the milk is always towards the back. It’s designed to get you to buy other stuff from them.”

Success has not come without its share of adversity and sacrifice. His wife wanted him to give up two years ago following a major health issue. And he and Hazel have not had a fortnight’s holiday for 30 years.

All that is about to change, however. Les preparing to pass on the baton to his son-in-law Steven Page and is soon taking a long-deserved break.

Rather than readying himself for retirement, he’s moving into business development and believes the milk round still has a long shelf life ahead.

“Like I’ve always said, the milk rounds will survive as long as they are in the hands of people who were dedicated,” said Les.

And with that, he climbs into his van and drives off into the drizzle of the miserable grey afternoon.

Mad? Maybe. Dedicated? Indisputably.