In a magnificently clanging piece of symbolism, David and Ben have been mending fences together, but it’s going to take more than that to restore peace to the troubled bosom of the Archer family. You know that chaos theory about how a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil can cause a tornado in Texas? So it is that a few drops of cheap beer dropped into the lap of Chelsea Horrobin at the “Ambridge rave” in July have caused Jill – matriarch of Ambridge, empress of Borsetshire, knight of the order of the hurled flapjack – to move out of Brookfield Farm and into the Bull, which is, I think all can agree, Beneath Her Dignity. The immediate cause of this removal – one no less serious than the ravens abandoning the Tower of London – is the fact that Jill declared herself ashamed of Ben’s impregnation of the aforementioned Chelsea. Or more specifically, ashamed of his failure to “fight for the baby”, Chelsea having decided to have a termination. Ruth, at this point, felt there were a few things to get off her chest about Jill’s controlling nature, judgmental attitude and “selfish and backwards opinions”. So it is that Jill and her cake tins have well and truly departed, leaving David and Ruth staring in the face the very real possibility of having to do their own cooking. Ruth has suggested some “really nice bangers and mash” for Christmas dinner but David is determined, at 63 and never having stuffed a bird, to do a proper roast for the family all by himself. If the farmhouse (let alone the turkey) survives unincinerated, it will be a minor miracle. In the meantime, they are having to sell off some land to repay Vince Casey’s investment in the farm’s solar panels, his £40,000 suddenly having been withdrawn in light of Ben having broken up with Vince’s daughter Beth. Oh Ben, what discord hast thou wrought in thy condomless foolishness! Young “Dodgy” George Grundy has wangled his way into work experience with arch-capitalist accountant Martyn Gibson and, even more remarkably, has been exercising his thoracic diaphragm and learning how to breathe “from my six-pack” during singing lessons with Fallon, who is setting up a choir. Unfortunately, so is Fallon’s mum, Jolene. The latter did something to Mick a cobra might do to its prey immediately prior to plunging its fangs into the defenceless neck, in order to prevent his defection to her daughter’s rival chorus. One, perhaps the only, upside of the current energy crisis is that Joy’s hot tub is out of action, so we are at least spared the mental picture of Mick in his Speedos.