BIG BIN, TINY BIN

“For a bin!?” I exclaimed, loud enough for the neighbours to hear through the wall.

We need a new kitchen bin, and somehow the options are monstrously expensive. I mean for the price these jokers are asking I’d be expecting it to pack itself off and empty itself into the wheelie bin every Wednesday.

Seriously, if you’re short of (what my Dad calls) “a bob or two”, get into waste disposal unit design! There’s a fortune to be made from bins, and I don’t mean rummaging around in one like a filthy News of the World hound after a story.

The problem is we really need one. We have an in-cupboard bin that’s comically small for the cupboard it’s in and it’s basically full after two tea bags and a pizza box. Okay, that’s an exaggeration - and (Sammy would like me to point out) - we do recycle our pizza boxes. But it’s not a huge one! Who knows why the previous owners elected for a tiny sliding bin with loads of empty cupboard space around it, but they did. Mind you, they also must have chosen some dodgy pipe work given that we’ve basically replaced it in its entirety. Shudder. The less said about last year the better.

Anyway. Bins are mysteriously expensive. I don’t know why. Perhaps the industry needs an ombudsman binman, a person who is willing to stand up for consumers against Big Bin, ironically for a big bin, I suppose.

Meanwhile, I will remain incredulous. Maybe it’s true what they say. Maybe men do turn into their dads whether they like it or not.