Ok, so here's my "England" tale.
We find our young ringofyre Misery McUglywife s0ckpuppet traipsing the olde streets of London Town having accompanied his mummy on a holiday to the UK to see his grandparents (for the last time).
s0cky's taken a few days off to catch up with an old girlfriend and some mates from Oz to have a bit of a "run-a-muck" around London. Yeeeee-har!

So I hopped off the train at Victoria Station one bright, sunny morning (inorite!?) having arranged to meet up with the ex at the Charlie Chaplin statue in Leicester Square after work - yes that long ago, 1996 to be exact. Feeling a bit peckish I got myself a couple of ripe, juicy apples (again!) to munch on. Not seeing a bin I just chuck the core into my backpack & off I toddled.
First I hit the V&A - culturing meself up I was. Hanging out, checking out armour from the Crusades and shit. I was hip and that was da bomb!
Then some lunch, I got a yummy falafel with the lot but again I noticed - no bin to chuck my wrapper or napkin... "Tell you what if was paying rates round here" I thought, "I'd be on the blower to the council to sort out their bins."

Finally I finished my sightseeing day at the Natural History Museum. Brilliant!
I wandered slowly over to Leicester Square where I met some Irish people who were having some drinks on the lawn. I was intrigued as street drinking is illegal here in Oz and I'd noticed several police men and women stroll by not so much giving this bunch a second glance. So I asked them about it - sure enough within moments I had a cold can in my hand. The topic of smoking came up - I was asked about pot in Australia and explained that mostly we smoked bushies and sometimes hydros. They told me all about hash and breaking it up on roll your own cigs. Surprise, surpise - moments later I was surreptitiously puffing on a joint I called the "Little Leicester Laughter Stick".
Within halfa my ex turned up and after introductions she looked at me with a quizzical and exasperated look and said "Only You!".
"What?" I asked feigning innocence.
"You're the only person I know who I could rely on to be getting pissed & stoned with a bunch of strangers in the middle of a strange, foreign city."
"Oh." I said rather sheepishly and bid my new friends adieu.

Later that night in the pub she went rooting in my bag for a cigarette (again, that long ago) when she found my apple core and lunch wrapping.
"The fuck have you got these for?" she asked slightly slurringly.
"Oh, I couldn't find a bin." said I.
"That's cause the IRA blow them up." she said somewhat matter of factually.

At first I didn't believe her. But some of our mates chipped in. Then I thought they were taking the piss of the parochial Aussie.
"Where the fuck do you chuck your rubbish then?" I asked.
"Ahh, just throw it in the street."
"But isn't that.... littering?"
"Yeah, but everyone does it and no one blows up piles of rubbish. Yet."
I could not believe my ears. This was a concept that I felt belonged in some third world despotic regime. Yet here were a bunch of Aussies who'd only been in the UK for a couple of years and yet they all seemed completely blasé about it.

Tell you what - here in Oz we'd lynch the fuckers if they blew up bins - that'd give the councils the perfect fucking excuse to put our rates up!
EDIT: Didn't realise it was a roasted pea.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 1:21, 15 replies)

STAY ABOUT FROh fuck it, I can't be arsed

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 1:28, closed)

I got right til the end
Before I realised it wwsn't a parody.
(Eukanuba, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 3:49, closed)

^ This, unfortunately.
Also, I'm reasonably sure that there are bins in London, just not in the train stations.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 9:48, closed)

This is the most interesting story about an apple core I have ever read.

(ringofyre, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 5:31, closed)

A friend of mine used to eat them.
That was full on mate!
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 7:00, closed)

You don't seem to be able to tell the difference between
people blowing up bins (sounds a bit like a prank) and terrorists hiding bombs in high streets in order to maximise the fear of random injury and death.
( wakeupandsmellthebacon, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 6:33, closed)

I'm intrigued that you've somehow drawn that conclusion from my story.
From what I loosely understood from my friends - at some point in the past the British Government stopped putting communal, (probably) 'council paid for' rubbish bins everywhere because apparently at some time a terrorist organisation in Northern Ireland would use said bins in order to place bombs and attempt to injure the populace.

I'm not seeing any ref. to pranking there.
At all.
I'm sure the threat was very real at one time.
I was simply amazed that in 1996 in one of the greatest cities in one of the most developed of the first world countries, the government had 'allowed' it's populace to simply litter because a terrorist organisation had at some point in the past place bombs in their bins.
Maybe we're just spoilt in Oz, not having too many homegrown terrorists wanting to blow up our bins.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 6:58, closed)

I recognise
the desire to have a city clean and tidy but you lot went a bit overboard washing the streets of Queensland.
(immadme, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 8:29, closed)

You should've seen Cabramatta
in the 90's.

EDIT: Act of God dude - take it up with your insurance agent.
Oh, wait.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 8:50, closed)

They hadn't.
You did the right thing by hanging on to your rubbish, your mates were a bunch of cunts, although, the British do litter more than other Western countries. It fucks me right off.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 15:33, closed)

They didn't hide bombs in bins to maximise the fear of random injury and death.
You can tell by the way they always warned the authorities half an hour before the bomb went off, so the high street could be evacuated. I think bins were sometimes used just as a handy place to leave a bomb. It's difficult to be scared of bombs if you know you'll always be safely behind a police cordon when they go off.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 15:38, closed)

I Hate London Town!
Back in '96 just before I hit the big four-oh, I made my first - and what turned out to my last - trip to London. We had to go see my grandparents, something about needing their signatures on documents that would allow ma to legally disinherit me. Can't say that bit was fun - but hey-ho, who's gonna turn down a freebie trip to pommieland?

Whilst ma busied herself at the fancy legal-eagle place, she sent me packing with a shiny new £1 coin and told me go get lunch. I was flabbergasted and almost wet myself with excitement! It had only taken nearly 40 years but ma had finally let me have MY OWN MONEY, to spend HOW I WANTED! Maybe, I thought, just maybe, if I could show her how responsible I was by buying lunch and returning to the correct place, at the correct time, wearing ALL my clothes, she might just hold off on giving away all my inheritance.

Off I set on my mission. I wandered around a bit and found myself near Leicester Square. There were burger bars, kebab shops, cafes - loads of places for an starving Aussie to get some tucker. I went into a kebab place and ordered a huge doner with all the trimmings. But the bugger wanted five pounds for it. I told him I only had one pound coin and he started laughing at me. I asked him what I could get for one coin and he gave me a bit of bread with chilli sauce. It was disgusting! But I showed him! I ran off with my pound STILL IN MY POCKET!

Now I was hungry AND broke. I wandered around a bit more and started to notice something - all these poms were just chucking their rubbish on the street, there were no bloody bins! Bonza! The road outside McDonalds yielded 12 squashed nuggets, two half-eaten Big Macs and shit-loads of milkshake remains. I was stuffed. And all for free! But there was more, I found a mountain of pizza crusts outside another place, there were so many that I stuffed a load in me rucksack for ma.

Things were looking up. I could head back to the fancy lawyer's office with my pound coin AND a free lunch for ma everyone else. As I was stuffing the last load of crusts into my baggie, a dirty old grogged-up tramp started harassing me. He kept shouting that they were HIS pizza crusts and that I had stolen them. I mean what a flaming moron, eh? Anyone could see they were mine - I'd put them in MY bag. But the tramp kept coming at me, shouting even louder that I'd nicked his dinner.

Well I wasn't having this. I placed the bag down and faced him head on. He swung at me, missed and fell on the ground next to me. Well of course I wasted no time. I was completely naked in under six seconds, and grabbing my greasy cock in one hand, I pissed all over the filthy fucker! But then this cunt gets up and screams something like 'Ah, so it's a pissing contest you're wanting?' And the bastard pulls off his kecks and starts pissing on ME! Can you bloody believe it? He also managed to drench all me clobber! Fuck this, I thought and grabbed my bag and rand off down the road, leaving my piss-soaked gear on the pavement.

When I arrived back at the legal place, I ignored the sheila on the front desk and ran up to find ma in the offices. There she was standing over a big old oak desk with a fancy pen in her hand. The lawyer-bloke was saying something like, 'Are you sure Mrs F****olme? You know you don't have to do this.' And that's when I called out to her.

'Don't do it ma!' I screamed. 'Look, I'm back, AND I've got lunch for us all AND I've still got my pound coin!'

Ma and the fancy bloke looked up at me. Ma weren't happy to see me without clothes again but she didn't know what I had in my bag! I ran over to the big old desk and dumped 100's of pizza crusts all over it.

'Look ma! Free lunch!'

I flopped onto one of the chairs and looked up at them smiling. Then for good measure I placed the pound coin perfectly in the centre of the desk.

Ma looked at me strangely. 'Yes Mr Caruthers,' she said, 'I am quite sure I want to do this.'

And with that she signed a few pages and walked calmly out of the office. Never saw her again after that.

The Caruthers chap made a call, 'Please can you come and escort Mr F****olme out of the building, get someone to clean up this godawful mess, and for crying out loud, find the man some clothes.'

And that's how I found myself wearing a suit 3x too small for me, stinking of piss and sleeping in Leicester Square.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 15:40, closed)

Jesus,you really are a bit desparate for attention.
Aren't you?
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Mon 7 Oct 2013, 22:31, closed)

Only from you, big boy!

( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 9:19, closed)

Well.
I appreciate your rendition of my post.
The first time you did it, it was fresh. Like a coffee from a brand new coffee maker.
The second time you did it was a bit weird for me. Despite you getting front-paged, I felt like you were only championing my cause because you were looking to get some help from other people - maybe getting them home after a terrorist attack.
& now here you are. Again.
Now I'm wondering if in your stalking of me, you've somehow hacked my hotmail account and perved at my pics on FB.

Just remember who your real friends are Alby.
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 11:03, closed)