Remember that episode of The Simpsons where Homer annoyed the garbage men and they stopped collecting his rubbish? I think something similar has happened to me.

While I cannot speak for the residents of the other four flats in my building, I don’t think I have pissed off the refuse collectors of Bath and North East Somerset, unless during some drunken cider-induced rampage I spray painted BIN MEN SMELL OF WEE on the side of their lorry.

For some reason, for the past three weeks they have not been empting our bins. It is getting to the stage where the outside of the flats is beginning to look like the training facilities at the Commonwealth Games in Delhi.

I have taken drastic action. Like every proud Englishman, I wrote a letter. Actually, I sent an email – we’re living in the 21st century and stamps cost money. Plus I’m too lazy to walk across the road and past the mountains of bin bags to stick the envelope in the post box.

Tomorrow morning, some admin assistant at BANES will receive my email, informing them of the latest health hazard to be bestowed upon the Georgian city, in the form of a million bin bags, piled high outside a set of flats in Newbridge.

There was an option on the website to send a complaint. I refrained from this. Firstly as the form wanted everything from my mothers maiden name to my inside leg measurement – why so much information was required for a simple moan, I do not know. Besides, I was worried that if I sent a complaint about a bin man, he would gather all his mates together and do a poo thorough my letterbox.

Needless to say, ‘Bob The Bin Man’ or whatever he’s called will not be getting a fiver in a card or a tin of Roses come Christmas. Hopefully by next Wednesday, he will find it possible to undertake his job and clear the ever-growing mound of rubbish, which is fast becoming the Eighth Wonder of the World.