Arthur Boyt is 73 years old and lives on Bodmin Moor in Cornwall, where he has spent decades cooking whatever he finds dead on the roadside. The film follows him into his kitchen as he prepares a badger casserole and works out how best to skin and dress polecat meat before it goes in the pan. Boyt talks through his method and his standards while he cooks, including one badger a friend had already picked up for its skull, its carcass swollen and green inside by the time he got to it. He stewed it anyway, filling the house with a smell he compares to an old asylum ward, and pronounces the result delicious. There is no squeamishness in how he talks about any of this, just the practical logic of a man who sees perfectly good meat going to waste on the tarmac and refuses to let it. The film stays close to his routines and his own words throughout.