Bin Rage: How Mad Is Too Mad?

Everyone gets mad about bins. There are few things I’ve been certain of in life, but one of those Very Few Things is that at some point in your life, my life, everyone’s lives, we have all been pissed off about our bins.

Few topics make the blood boil like refuse collection. Green bins, recycling boxes, black bins, and those bloody stickers you get when you’ve accidentally put something naughty in the wrong container.

Mildly scratching your head on your front drive, wondering what you’ve messed up this time. But how mad is Too Mad? I’m sure many people have written angry emails or submitted passive aggressive Freedom of Information Requests like: HOW MANY TIMES DID YOU REFUSE A BIN IN THE YO30 POSTCODE THIS YEAR?

I hadn’t contemplated the topic of How Mad is Too Mad, until I saw Too Mad in the flesh. I have now seen a man take a running jump over the line of How Mad Is Too Mad to get about your bins. I estimate he took about two years off his own life from the pure anger and frustration he displayed in the six-minute fracas I was party to. For the purpose of anonymity I have named him Lord of the Landfill.

Here are some of the things I saw the Lord of the Landfill do that are absolutely not acceptable when you get a bad case of Bin Rage: stand in front of the bin wagon to prevent it from continuing its round, throw your bin bags onto the bin wagon yourself, jab a dustman in the chest and film yourself being aggressive under the guise of holding said bin men to account.

I’ll add a little bit of context for you. There are approximately eight bin bags on Lord of the Landfill’s manicured front lawn. He is waiting outside, face bright red, when I follow the truck up the road. His big, albeit dopey, dog is roaming the perimeter and a slightly aloof-looking wife is stood a couple of feet behind him.

This man is waiting for the bin men and he is really, really mad. Too Mad.

Here’s a passing thought, if you have managed to create eight or nine large bin bags of waste on top of your own bin, in two weeks, you are the problem. Not the bin men. And I think I’m right in saying that they aren’t required to collect that density of rubbish either. In fact I know I’m right because I checked the website, something I highly recommend Lord of the Landfill does in due course. Unless he’s paying extra for some sort of special commercial service – it is a big house.

It’s common knowledge that the world is facing a plastic pollution disaster. When you’re independently contributing to that on a large scale, it seems a small penalty to have to drive to the skip yourself and face what you’ve done. You are a scourge on society and definitely deserve to have to dispose of your own excessive trash.

Terrorising bin men on a Wednesday morning is not the answer to this. This is the point where I go: this man is just Too Mad.

I am thinking about just how mad he truly is when his big b*st**d dog jumps up at my window on its back legs and stays there while his wife eyeballs me flightily. Lord of the Landfill doesn’t notice, he’s engaged full terror mode: jabbing the men on the chest and thrusting his smartphone in their faces.

Credit to the bin men who A) Do an essential job that helps all of us reasonable folk on a regular basis B) Seem to be exceptionally good at handling confrontation. I hope you don’t get in any trouble because Lord of the Landfill couldn’t hold his temper or control his obscene contribution to our already polluted world.

The scene comes to a close when the bin men eventually give in to angry man, probably in the interests of self-preservation and he tosses his bin bags onto the wagon angrily and gestures for his dog. I suddenly have a rush of regret over not getting my phone out to film the whole thing, and resolve to be nicer to my local dustmen. True men of the people.