I walked past a bin man this morning who had just collected my rubbish. He smelled like a duty free department. I wonder if he was wearing aftershave which some wastrel had thrown out. They do tend to enjoy abit of the old grotty dip.

I cannot tell which is more odd- a bin man sticking on some aftershave he had found in the garbage for a laugh, or a bin man deliberately musking himself up before work. He might as well have gone the whole hog and donned a white silk cravat. Was he trying to impress his co-binmen? Perhaps he sees a particularly fanciable commuter leaving for work at this time every week on this route, and he wanted to impress her? Does she notice the heady mix of rotten celery and CK Be, and perhaps ask herself: ‘Who is this enigmatic civil servant? Does he see my longing?’? Are you that commuter? Could you, would you?

On second thoughts, he probably was just wearing it because his wife cannot stomach the tangy reek London waste. Or he moonlights in a perfume laboratory.