I haven't finished with the gull talk yet.
I've just toddled over to Postman Patel's teeny-tiny post office, and the state of Augusta Road is quite appalling! Every Thursday it looks like a landfill site. The bin bags come out, the Tomato Gulls peck their fill, and then The Uranians come round later to cart away what's left. Leaving, of course, the fourteen tons of rotting crap that's been spewed across the pavements until the geezer with the picky-up stick slouches round tomorrow.
I thought The Uranians were going to introduce wheelie bins shortly? I presume 'shortly' equals around twelve earth years on Uranus.
3 comments:
Could be and has bin worse.
In the good old days, Mr Picky-up-stick used to come round the day before the bin men.
Anything for an easy life, eh?
Why can't Mr Picky-Uppy follow round behind the bin truck, eh? Or has logic abandoned Uranus?
The bloody Palm Bay Squadron were engaged in a dogfight over my house at 4.30am.
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