There are three basic rules for the happy continuation of a civil suburban society.
OK, that’s not true: there are about 25, and that doesn’t include all the stuff about fences, out of which so many lawyers have made a very nice living for so long, thank-you very much.
But for today’s purposes, I’m boiling it down to three: don’t park across your neighbour’s driveway; turn it down; and if you’re going to sneak rubbish into your neighbour’s bin, don’t get caught.
Bin night: the last frontier of our least civilised, most wildling behaviour. This night can turn even the most pious of folk into a low-down, sneaky, scavenging mutt. It can turn neighbour against neighbour. It can get really evil.
Bin night: survival of the filthiest. Put your bin out too early, and the rubbish truck will sail past snootily the next morning, refusing to pick up a receptacle that is now overflowing with the dumped rubbish of your sneaky neighbours. Put it out too late and … well, you know how it goes.
It’s a wonder the bin-night wars that break out nightly across our inner and outer suburbs don’t result in police call-outs.
Online forums are full of howls of outrage and frustration about neighbors who pile their stuff into your bin and those who respond with bags of garbage hurled back onto doorsteps. No wonder garbos don’t get out of their trucks anymore: they’d need Kevlar to survive.
People, none of us are saints, but the rules that govern the disposal of your excess waste are perfectly clear, even though they are unwritten.
Today, I put them down on paper in an effort to avoid the suburban mayhem – even murder – I fear may result from this most devious behaviour.
That half-empty bin that has just been put out on the footpath is not yours.
Not yet, anyway.
There is a time-honoured code here. Every household has the right to enjoy a considerable grace period between putting out the bin and relinquishing any further need for leftover space.
That time period is not one hour. It’s not even several hours. That period goes well past any daylight hours and certainly past midnight.
If you just happen to find yourself standing by said bin at, say, three in the morning with an – oh my goodness, look at that – big bag of excess rubbish, only THEN can you cram it into your neighbour’s bin. And run.
Your excess rubbish CANNOT go into your neighbour’s almost-empty recycling bin. You already know that. I can’t believe you made me say it.
Large, commercial rubbish bins outside businesses and factories beyond business hours are fair game.
Well, they are. Don’t get all faux-outraged with me – I know you’ve driven the massive box that the new TV came in down to the recycling bins out the back of The Good Guys and furtively crammed it in.
I know you once even thought about shoving the old dried-up Christmas tree in those big bins too. You’re not alone. Just watch out for the security cameras.
If it doesn’t fit, stiff sh–.
You cannot pile your rubbish on, out of and, most certainly not, around a bin. If it doesn’t go all the way in, walk away. Take your garbage with you.
Failing all of this, I have noticed some enterprising souls are doing a nice online trade in wheelie bin locks.
In a variation of good fences making good neighbours, I can just imagine the inner peace and contentment turning the bin key and walking away would bring.
Like a security door for the soul. And a most elegant snub for your sneakiest neighbour.
Virginia Trioli is co-host of ABC News Breakfast on ABC1 and ABC News 24, 6-9am weekdays.
Follow Virginia on Twitter: @latrioli
