Something Must be Done (but what?)

Blimey. This place is getting out of hand. (I'm back at the Outcrop, by the way - successfully unwedged by a powerful blast from Spockfingers rear end. "We fed him cabbage again, Tuppy," said Geoffrey, excitedly. "It always does the trick." Well, cabbage has to be good for something, I suppose.)
Anyway - the appalling Sir Erchie has been prancing about the place willy nilly and without so much as a by your leave, poking his nose into all sorts. As a matter of fact, we had a VERY distasteful conversation earlier, right on our very doorstep.
"What's this about pylons and a ditch?" he asked, taking out his biro and spiral notebook. "Sounds like a juicy tale. (Not!!)" he smirked up his sleeve. Yes, it is possible to do that, but it's very rude.
"Bog off," I said. "Anyway, it's a trench, not a ditch."
"Have you seen it lately?" he asked, needled by my tone."It's packed full of old bits of rubbish. It's just a dump. It's an environmental hazard. The Council will have to sort it out. Whoever's responsible will get an enormous fine."
"But..." I gasped.
"What idiot's been dumping rubbish in the trench? It's supposed to keep the pylons away!" snapped the T-G, who had just arrived on the scene for his mid-morning snifter.
Geoffrey and I glancced at each other quickly.
"Er...must have been...someone else..." murmured Geoffrey, shamefacedly.
"Yes. Exactly," I said briskly, "Someone else with no moral scruples, unlike us. Anyone for a snifter? Crack open the madeira, Geoffrey, for pity's sake. It's gone half ten."