Council Collection

George is a DIY enthusiast. Having decided upon a new bathroom to spruce up his flat, he set about removing the old one, including the stained tiles and rotten wood panelling.

Having dismantled the bathroom suite, he chipped off the old tiles and loaded them in a sturdy cardboard box. He then set about the wood panelling and tied them in bundles for ease of carry. Before long the old bathroom had been removed and stacked neatly on the landing.

George called the council to collect his rubbish, but was immediately disappointed to discover that they would only provide him with a 10 day window for collection. How would his neighbours feel about his old bathroom suite sitting outside? He couldn't leave it on the landing, and the new one was being delivered in the afternoon. George hoped the council would come sooner and piled the junk in the street for all to stumble over.

After a Friday of 'Destroy It Yourself' George unveiled his shiny new bathroom. Pleased as punch, he headed off for a long weekend in Islay. On returning after the weekend, George saw that his rubbish had yet to be collected, and one of his neighbours had posted a stinky old tile through his letter box in protest.

George called the council, and asked if they could be more specific as to when they were going to come and collect his rubbish. "Some time Wednesday" was the response. George went to bed feeling guilty about his neighbour, but thought it would soon be Wednesday and his troubles would disappear with his rubbish.

George left for work on Wednesday morning, his postman had delivered the mail. His neighbour had delivered another stinky tile. George would buy him a bottle of wine to suppress his antics, and in any case, it was Wednesday, and the council were coming.

When George came home, he was dumbfounded to see that the bathroom suite was gone, but the wood panelling and the box of tiles remained. Infuriated, he called the council again, and demanded an explanation. It turned out that the council will only collect things if they have been packaged in a specific way. How was George supposed to know this?

It rained heavily that night. So much so, that the cardboard box holding the tiles sagged with the weight and was falling apart at the seams. George went to bed early, but was awoken by yet another tile landing in the hall. He sighed, rolled over and went back to sleep.

George was left to re-pack the tiles into another box, carry all the left over junk back into his flat, and wait for his dad to call with the car so that he could visit the local tip.

On the way to the tip the car caught a pot-hole and the jolt opened the boot spraying tiles and nail filled wood panelling across the street like confetti. Three workmen, one jogger, an old man and a dog got caught in the cross fire and are currently incapacitated. George is being sued by all. His father denied any involvement, his mother disowned him, his employer (RSPCA) didn't want to be associated with Skippy's demise, and his neighbour downstairs laughed out loud when reading the story in the local rag.....well, until George's DIY bathroom flooded.

Don't fall foul of bad decisions, call 0500 General Junk today. You know it makes sense.