Brown Wind - The story of one man's battle to maintain the dogshit bins
Joe Wilkins is a man who lives on the edge of society. He works alone, keeping the streets of Surrey free from a hidden menace. Ever-alert, always down-wind, John is the silent mercenary who empties the dog-shit bins.
Joe 'Dog' Wilkins cuts a striking figure. Gaunt-faced and tightly muscled, his tanned features hint at a life on the road. He rolls a cigarette that takes on the brown hue of his fingers, he suppresses a gag reflex as he puts it to his lips. "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it", growls Joe. "I've been a mercenary in this game for as long as I can remember." His employers officially refer to Joe as an 'agency worker', and estimate the length of employment at eight weeks.
Not many men can 'take the strains' that Joe faces. "I've known some good men who have cracked under this job. Hard men: men that you wouldn't dare hold your nose at", Joe says. "You have to stay on your toes, especially in the verges. One trip-up and you could have a mess on your hands."
His cold, slightly watering eyes spot a lone bin across the park: a smile cracks his face, the sun unglints off the flecks on his teeth. "Time for action", Joe growls. Wordlessly, he mounts his specially-modified transportation: a golf-cart Joe calls 'The General'. "Me and the General go way back". Joe's eyes twinkle. "She used to be called the 'The General Waste Department', but err, some of the letters came off." Joe shifts uncomfortably, not used to such scrutiny. "We've done a lot of jobs together, been through a lot of shit."
The job can be dangerous, there are traps and horrors that Joe can barely bring himself to describe. "There's some sick puppies out here. Some folks just hang the bags in trees. When there's a strong wind, you really have to watch yourself, you don't want to be hit by a dirty bomb".
But Joe's worst horror is an improvised excretive device: the Tesco's carrier bag. "Sure, they look like any other bag. But those mothers are perforated. What one of those can do to a man, if he casually swings it into the back of the General...it makes me sick just thinking about it."
Joe is a very private man, and lives alone. "Maybe it's the things I've seen. Maybe it's my '1000 Yard smell'. But I couldn't ask a woman to share this, I bring too much of my work home with me."
Despite the tough nature of Joe's unsung travails, he remains philosophical: "It could be worse", opines Joe. "I could be a teacher."
