Another gripe at the moment is rubbish.

In the UK most of the council refuse collections are fortnightly. The reason? There’s not enough land fill in which to put the rubbish people are generating. Personally I think it’s a splendid idea. Especially as Mrs G and I only seem to generate half a wheelie bin a week after recycling. I know in some parts of the UK frightful hauty toff types (the kind that drive little Jonny 35 yards to the school gate in their fuck off massive 4×4’s) have been whinging about how they have to put up with the smell of rotting cabbage (answer darling, get a fucking compost bin!) and rats (they’re there because you don’t close the fucking wheelie bin and leave bags out as well you dirty scutters).

Yesterday I arrive home to the usual pile of shite through my letter box (bills, offers of sexual favour, letters of merit) and a leaflet from a private bin collection agency.

Tyke Refuse collection or something. A licenced refuse collection agency offering lazy non-recyclers the opportunity to pay £75 a year to have their bins emptied by them on alternate weeks (ie when the council don’t collect). But what is the TRUE COST OF CONVENIENCE? The rubbish they collect still has to go somewhere doesn’t it? And if there are two companies (the council and the private) collecting rubbish surely that means twice the rubbish to be disposed? The fortnightly collections are there to encourage people to recycle more and not to carry on as if there is no space shortage.

I said to Mrs G, if I was on the council I’d revoke their waste licence.

Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists where I am more than qualified enough to talk confidently about absolute shite and bollocks.

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