Did the gin run out?
Were the effects of the diet of nothing other than cheese and onion crisps such that, without adequate ventilation, the badger sett became uninhabitable?
Did the badgers come home, albeit briefly, before re-re-locating to somewhere less odorous?
I am now singing a certain Elton John song to myself. And it’s not “Candle in the Wind.”
That might risk an explosion.
My “fill the Gill Heavens gap” series of posts, however inadequate, has now ended.
I leave you with Sir Elton.