Bins. They're not hard.

Oh good. We're doing this again. Every six or so months. And in the run-up to Christmas.
Why is it that the inhabitants of the flats around me, who I have the unfortunate burden of sharing bins with, are completely incapable of filling them correctly?

We have a bunch of bins. The ones that are recycling-oriented have 'recycling' in big block capitals in the lid. The ones that are for general waste do not have anything written on them.
By process of elimination, you can deduce which bins should be filled with recycling waste and which should be filled with general. And if you can't work out what is and isn't recycling waste, there's a fucking giant notice in the communal hallway, that a three-year-old could make sense of, that should clear things up.

Or so you would think.

Because the animals I live next to are either completely fucking brain dead. Or completely fucking illiterate. I would love to know which it is. I'm so fucking sick of going through the same idiot loop:

1. Some dumb cunt fills one or more bins with the wrong stuff.
2. Everyone else piles their refuse into the remaining bins.
3. The bin men don't take the bins away because the recycling is in the wrong place and the general refuse is overloaded.
4. It hangs around for months on end while the rest of us try to find some way to manage our trash, the neighbours complain, vermin accumulate, and then the landlord eventually has to figure out how to fix it.

I'm so utterly sick of the existence of these fucking lobotomites. It's not fucking difficult. The fucking packaging on everything will tell you if you can recycle it now. So what the fuck is your excuse? How do you incompetent animals keep fucking this very basic task up? And why do the rest of us have to deal with it? I swear to God, we need an idiot check. Anyone who doesn't meet a minimum standard of intelligence gets culled.

Put yourself in the fucking bin next week.

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Bin Rage Home October 29, 2026 at 6:34 am 0 0