Wheelie Bins and Couriers

For this story, I need to give you two important pieces of information:

Important Fact #1: South Gloucestershire County Council operate a rubbish collection pregramme that consists of two wheelie bins, one black for general domestic rubbish and one green for recyclable rubbish such as card and garden waste. These bins are emptied by the nice bin-men on alternate Thursdays - one week the black bin is emptied, the next the green bin. Tomorrow morning, at around 7.30 am, my green bin will be emptied.

Important fact #2: I ordered some stuff from Amazon.

You can probably already see where this is going.

Following some terribly interesting stuff post-work activities today, I arrived home at about 10.30pm, to find, amongst the junk mail that had accumulated on my doormat* a card from Securicor Omega Express, a national courier firm.
Of the three boxes that could have been ticked on the card, the courier had chosen to tick the one which bore the statement 'Your package has been left in a sefe place'. This was followed by a box in which the courier had scrawled something about my wheelie bin. I took this to mean that the package was beside it, or behind it or some equally sensible place.

Oh no. Despite searching around the bins in the dark, I was unable to locate the package. 'Oh dear,' I thought to myself. 'This does not bode well. Perhaps it has been pilfered. Nicked, as it were. I've been robbed!'

I rescrutinised the card. It clearly said: 'Fnarglespotsnik alker wheelie bin'.
One last look around the bins uncovered nothing of interest. Resigned to the fact that I would have to contact the couriers to enquire and, more than likely re-order my stuff from Amazon, I headed back down the garden path to my back door.

It was at this moment that my faith in the general common sense of the human race utterly, utterly failed me.

'No,' I thought to myself. 'He wouldn't have. Surely not. Especially not the day before the green bins are collected...'

I will now give you three guesses as to what I found in my green recycling bin that was to be emptied by the nice council bin-men first thing in the morning.



*Actually, I don't have a doormat by my front door. This reference to my doormat is not a lie, but rather what's known as dramatic license to keep the narrative flowing. 'On the floor in front of my front door' just doesn't sound right.