A has bin
• Modern Ireland: Friday at 9:30am. Bin lorry arrives to empty my household waste bin. I own the bin and pay a tag to have it serviced. Go out to retrieve bin but find it gone.
Second lorry arrives a moment later to collect recycled rubbish. Speak to nice driver and inform him of my predicament. He rings household rubbish truck and driver confirms that bin was thrown into truck. I thank him.
Ring company to inform them and request bin be replaced. Informed that it will be early next week. "When is early next week?" I ask. Pause. "Don't know . . . early next week," is reply.
I, not unreasonably, ask what to do with my rubbish. The standard default mantra kicks in: "Early next week."
"Does that mean Monday morning?" Silence, then exasperation at other end. "No, not Monday . . . early next week." "Tuesday morning then?" "Maybe . . . but early next week." Defeated, I make a comment about the little people, us, who just stand in line and wait to be served.
The greatest little country in Europe that shuts the hospital wards down to pay the debts of the wealthy and powerful. And we wonder why the poor old bin man threw my bin in the truck. No one gives a toss.