Confusion reigns here in the Millionaires' Playground, following the local council's recent decision to redraft its rubbish collection schedule by means of a crack-crazed hamster scampering across a time sheet, dragging a felt tip pen between its teeth.
The service is so irregular that the streets are positively buzzing most days with millionaires in their Dunhill smoking jackets, first carrying out their bulging bin bags, then later bringing them in again when they realise the collection was made several hours/days/months earlier.
As a consequence, the seagulls have seized the opportunity to gorge on the feast of leftover caviar and blinis these bin bags contain. Most have grown to the size of flying poodles, and now snap all but the stoutest of TV aerials when they land on them.
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