Apologies for the cameraphone in pitch dark style quality.
The bin men in Leeds were told that they would have to start doing more work for less dinero so they have basically just fucked the whole bin emptying thing off and gone home for six weeks. The result where I live has been a kind of migration to a more inner city New York lifestyle. Stinking bin bags are piled everywhere, you can't move for rotting food waste and tea bags and the rats and foxes are having a great old time of it. Feral children sneak about when the sun goes down trying not to be seen as they dump their parents rubbish in someone else's bin and the city has taken on an air of misery and despair.
It's getting so bad that on the way home last night drunk I had a bit of a moment. I was looking up the road at the piles of rubbish and the streetlights reflecting off the damp tarmac and I suddenly 100% expected to turn a corner and find myself in an alley with a counterweighted fire escape at one end and the rear entrance to a Chinese restaurant at the other. I daydreamed that a man was stood there in a filthy apron smoking a cigarette and when he caught sight of me he raised the meat cleaver he held in a half greeting, half attempt at intimidation. I turned and walked back the way I came as tendrils of steam rose up from the holes in a man hole cover and curled around my ankles. The urge to rock a pair of Vandals and steal a vagrants trousers overtook me then and suddenly I snapped back to reality and felt a bit silly so I went home.
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