The Human Zoo - Mr Why Haven't My Bins Been Emptied?

For decades, Ron has maintained relative peace with his Council overlords based on the understanding they pick up his shit on Wednesday and in return he doesn’t send them abusive handwritten letters.

So you can imagine the furore when his bins weren’t emptied the day after Christmas. He managed to keep it together until about 4pm when he was forced to accept it wasn’t going to happen. Needless to say, he went ape-shit.

The Council had forsaken him and his bin was filled to the brim with the kind of seafood that John West would certainly reject. Sick of his street smelling like a mermaid’s queef, John decided to take action.

He gathered up his first born and ordered him to help wheel the bin down to the local park and help him dump a Mandurah toilet seat’s worth of crabs into the Council’s bin.

It would’ve been a perfect plan if it wasn’t for that pesky Ranger busting them! Fortunately, the Ranger really didn’t want to be added to Ron’s mailing and telephone list, so he let him off with a warning.

Peace had been restored. At least until the 2nd January, when Ron stood outside his gate along with every other older gent worth his River’s cargo shorts and formed a guard of dishonour, waiting for their fucking bins to be emptied. To no avail.

That night was the domestic waste purge. Neighbour turning on neighbour as they played pass the rotten parcel with each other's frozen bags of fish heads and ham bones. No one’s bin was safe.

Facebook chat pages exploded with the frenzied caps locking of boomers scared of a slight change:

“How BLOODY HARD is it to empty a BLOODY bin on BIN DAY. Its called BIN DAY for a reason duh????? What do I pay me rates for and me taxes!?!? What am I meant to do about me bins you counsil GRUBS?! This isn’t over”

Well, apart from simply waiting for the next day, you could try a Valium and a glass of red Ron. Instead, he penned a 3-page letter to his local Council and waited at his gate the next day to give the Garbos a piece of his mind.

When they arrived he sprayed them like a territorial cat. They coped his abuse as they smiled menacingly, looks like Ron’s bins won't see a timely evacuation next week either. Dickhead.