Once again, sympathy streams from the Principality:
Dear Lady Parker-Bowels, she writes, I symphonise with your vermin problem. In my case, it's not ducks in my pond, not that I have a pond, but badgers at the bins. Most nights when it's cold, I am woken up by the sound of dustbin lids clattering on to the flagstones. You wouldn't think badgers could do that, but they can. And the mess! It's all very well your father-in-law, David, Duke of Attenborough, telling us to love Nature With A Capital N, but badgers get right up my dander. The way Mr Trellis, my late husband used to say "Live and let live" you'd've thought he was a buddhist (or is it buddleia? All these heathen religions are the same to me), but even he made an exception when badgers nibbled his cauliflowers. Can you tell me where you got your football from, I quite like the idea of lobbing something at these nocturnal marauders. Not a word to your pa-in-law, though: just our little secret.
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, Retd.