Not in My Front Yard, says the Daily Mail.

Yesterday, the Daily Mail devoted seven (seven!) pages to its new campaign to rid England of wheelie bins, describing them as a “bin explosion” blighting “our streets and gardens”.

Even accounting for the fact that I've yet to see any bins explode when I've been out walking, these histrionics have taken me a little bit by surprise. After all, how many people do you know who feel genuinely aggrieved by the country's 'bin bureaucrats'?

As much as it pains me to say it though, they do have a point. These bins are quite ugly, which is why our recycling box and wheelie bin stores are selling well.

There's no real alternative to the boxes themselves though – the council's designs keep out foxes and prevent the rubbish collectors handling potentially hazardous waste, something the Daily Mail has attributed to the 'dreaded health and safety'.

It's all reminded me of something. When I was at university, I lived with a chap whose parents had recently retired. He said that his Dad became obsessed with bread – he would drive miles everyday to find the perfect loaf, checking its crust methodically for the 'right level of burning.' He even built a wood-burning oven in the garden of their city terrace.

Instead of being worried by this little hobby, my friend took it that everything was well with his father. After all, he reasoned, if bread is the only thing he can think of worrying about, then all must be right in his world.

I have to say, this is how I feel about the Daily Mail's campaign. There may (or may not, depending which definition you choose) be a recession on, but if that's what's worrying them most, then I guess it's not all doom and gloom.

Have a great week.

Edwin