Total Rubbish

The BBC reports here that:

More homes could soon see the end of weekly bin collections, after official research said there would be no hygiene problems if rubbish was well wrapped.

WasteAnd it then proceeds to explain that – according to the government – it will be better for the environment if we have refuse collected fortnightly instead of weekly as it will mean less bin trucks on the road and more incentive to recycle.

Recycle what though? The things I put in my bin are the things I can’t recycle. That’s the point. I have a recycling bin. It’s for the things I want to – and am allowed to – recycle. The things I can’t recycle – food, plastic bags for some reason, bottle caps, etc. – go in the bin in my kitchen until it is collection day. Wednesdays, not that you care.

Under the new scheme I have to keep old food in my kitchen for up to two weeks – eurgh! – or place the bag outside the house for perhaps anything up to 13 days. Note that we’re not allowed to put things in bins outside; it’s bags only or the binmen won’t collect. So, upshot is – with summer approaching and global warming warming and warming – we’re soon to invite all manner of health problems around; maggots, flies, rats the size of turtles, homeless people away-day trips. And all for … what? The environment?

Don’t make me laugh. It’s to save money, of course. But whose? Council taxpayers? Hahahahahahaha … you fool. No, you can expect that council tax bill to keep going up or, at worst, freeze temporarily meaning you’re paying the same for less service. Wow! Where do I bend over again?

Now, on the same day (ooh, coincidence) as this claptrap we also hear this:

Homes across Britain are wasting a total of 3.3m tonnes of food a year, a report is expected to reveal.

The study, by the government’s waste body Wrap, will say households dump just under a third of all the food they buy, although half is inedible waste.

Aarghhhh! We’re wasting almost a third of the food we buy! Well, almost a third except for the half of the almost a third that it’s impossible to eat. So not really almost a third at all. Almost a sixth. It’s really not that difficult to work that one out.

[Professor Lang said] "A third of people are throwing away food that’s cooked and left on the plate. This is just ridiculous."

Professor Lang won’t let you have any dessert and you’re not leaving the table to watch TV until your plate is clear young man!

Wrap said it was becoming too easy to buy lots of food, and has called on supermarkets not to encourage consumers to buy too much.

Bread limited to one loaf per household per week! Reason number 387 to shop at Morrisons!

Yes, not sure I see that one working.

Author: Mark

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  1. It would never work round my way. We don’t have nice big wheely bins to put our rubbish in. I have to get up at 06:30 on Tuesday mornings to make sure the damn bin bag (that’s been slowly festering in my garage all week until it’s so bad the evil stench has started to impregnate my car) is out on the curb because I can’t possibly expect a dustman (or "dustperson" – before I’m chastised for not being an equal opportunities berator) to walk the 10 yards up my drive, and lift the bin bag out of the damn dustbin for me can I? My Council Tax would surely have to double to get that sort of service wouldn’t it?

    Most people on my estate don’t bother getting up that early, and to be fair, I have on occasion had to sprint down the drive in my trolleys, a huge sack swinging around my legs, because I’ve overslept and almost missed the dustcart. Most people put the bin bags out on the kerb the night before, something I refuse to do – partly on the grounds of health and safety, and partly because I don’t really want the neighbours inspecting my waste. By 07:00 the next morning when the dustcart thunders up the road, waking the lazy swine from their sleep, most of the contents of their bin bags are already strewn down the street even before the dustmen get a chance to clumsily split the odd bag open. For that delight we can thank the local cats, or maybe we should thank their owners who let them out all night (probably at the same time they put the bin bags out). A Monday night out for the cats in my area consists of the following:- strolling out the house after a huge tin of Whiskas; not really hungry but still intent on catching and killing anything that moves because that’s what cats do; a quick sniff at the still-sealed bin bag, but slope off quickly as the owner’s still watching; go round to Grazor’s garden to shit in every flowerbed, and then when all the flowerbeds are full give up trying to bury it and just leave it all over the lawn instead; and finally, under the cover of darkness, sneak back to the unguarded bin bags, tenderly claw them open, and arrange the contents all down the street. On top of that, the cats are in league with the crows. By first light, when the feline night shift is over, the crows descend, rummaging through what’s left of the night’s pickings and flying off with whatever stinking morsels of rotting carrion they can find, but quite often dropping them a few wing beats on. I just know it was a crow that dropped that used maternity pad (the lady a few doors down had just had a baby) on my driveway, but I still blame next door’s Sooty (the most evil cat on the estate) for strewing them all over the grass verge in the first place.

    And on top of all that – I have seen rats around the place too. I found one strolling through my garden only the other day. He wasn’t bothered by me, in fact he came so close I was slightly concerned he might lunge for my trouser leg and climb up inside it before I could react, and I’d have to run down the street screaming like a girl. I was going to break its neck with a well placed boot heel, but I actually think rats are quite cute, and unlike the local cats (which I am on occasions tempted to boot to death) he wasn’t crouched over my flowerbed smugly looking at me whilst curling a brown monster into the shallow crater he’d just dug. So I let him trundle on about his business, feeling good karma for letting him pass unharmed. Whether I feel quite so charitable in the future after I pick up Weil’s disease from working in a garden drenched with rat urine, we’ll have to wait and see.

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