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The Bastard Binmen

Who do they think they are? They're binmen not bastard royalty, although you wouldn't know it the way the ones round here behave. Can't be arsed to walk up your drive and get your bin. They can see it's there all right, but it's just not always in EXACTLY the right place, so they won't fuckin touch it the lazy smelly bastards. Unless it's the week before Christmas that is. If it's the week before Christmas nothing is too much trouble. In fact I reckon they send a different lot round the week before Christmas. The Christmas lot look like they are on the way to a binman wedding for starters. All togged up they are, smiling, laughing with gay binman abandon they are. Whistling away to themselves, usually something by Chas and Dave, or that song from Mary Poppins. "Mornin guvnor, with a chim, chim, charee don't yer know, gor blimey. I'll take that Sir, don't you get getting your hands mucky, that's manual labour for scroats like me. What, you've got an old settee round the back, no problems Sir. Come on lads *whistles* we'll have that on the van in no time *doffs cap* and no mistake. If you could just spare a couple of quid for the orphanage, we'll be on our way *jumps in air and clicks heels*me old cock sparra." Not this lot though, the gang of ignorant, idle gets. They fuckin swan past in the van, slide rules at the bastard ready. "Look Frank that's at least 4mm overfilled, fuck that. This one's slightly too close to the hedge, that'll have to stay put. Elf and Safety Norman. Elf and Safety. Someone's put an empty can of pop in this one, recycling's not 'til next Monday. The whole lot's contaminated now. We're not touching that, more than my job's worth. You see I'd like to help but my hands are tied. Looks like we're on for an early finish today lads. This smelly load of shit will have to sit on their lah de dah drives another fortnight." The gang of twats.

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Fucking Passwords

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