Chuck it all into a bin and dump it and move in

 So this waste of millions of sperm and an ovum stopped me this morning to tell me that the bin I just moved was there because this is not a bikepath. Despite the bike path along the river being closed because of the destruction wrought by the bridge between the Adelaide Oval and the city because other wastes of seed and eggs cannot walk an extra few minutes to the football in two years' time.
     This is despite politicians and health experts decrying the obesity epidemic. Somehow it can be justified to reduce a walk to the plastic seats of a screaming cauldron to raise blood pressure at umpires whilst scoffing crusty and fried potato and a pastry filled with brown and thick fluid and pieces of non-descript mammalian viscera condimented by tomato and SALT.
     And this fuckstick tells me this with a straight face tells me this is a footpath despite too many signs with a stylised bicycle printed above the words SHARED PATH in navy print upon white background.
     This guy is goodlooking and fit and forty-ish and is unable to read a fucking sign.
     If I were able to discern why got so defensive about it I would probably not be taking off on this poor fella. He was just doing his job. I assume that is what he was doing - supervising the bin staff making sure they poured the contents of a small bin into a larger bin ready for that to be poured into a really big bin so it could be transported to a really really big bin that could be loaded into a medium scale truck for final deposit into landfill.
     Goodbye.