Knowing Wheatley's (lack of) skill and grace, it probably was his fault. Some wretched horse-man has crashed slap-bang into him and sent them both on an immediate collision course with the ground, which he does not appreciate and finds rather rude, thank you very much.

And so it was that Wheatley landed in an undignified red and gold crumple, scrambling to pull himself upright with too-long limbs and not enough coordination and flopping halfway over the cause of his dire situation.

"You weren't watching where you were going," says Wheatley indignantly, puffing up in a manner somehow redolent of an overly-aggressive peacock. "Don't go blaming me for that, all willy-nilly!"