The Brown Bin Affair – A Treatise on the Questionable Historical Significance of Thirteen Brown Bins

My neighbour, Gladys Throatsweet, is currently in dispute with the local council as she has thirteen brown bins for garden waste and is refusing to give up any of them. The council insists that her council tax entitles her to the use of just one of these brown bins and that her hoarding of thirteen is tantamount to fraud or tax evasion, and possibly twelve counts of aggravated larceny. Gladys refutes this entirely, claiming that the brown bins were legitimately acquired, and threatened council workers with boiling tar when they attempted to retrieve said items. Their ploy of trying to take the brown bins one at a time when collecting garden waste down the street failed as Gladys refused to put any of them out for collection as none of them were full. This is probably mainly due to the fact that Gladys only has a window box.

Her latest strategy to foil the council in their scheme to de-brown bin her, is to have claimed via the UNESCO that her bins are of international cultural and historical significance. She has applied for funding via the National Lottery to found a charitable museum that she has dubbed ‘The Northumberland Brown Bin Heritage Museum’. She opened it to visitors only last week and is charging a fiver for entry. By each of the brown bins, lovingly displayed in her driveway behind red ropes, she has placed a plaque upon which is written the supposed historical significance of each bin. She offered me a discount as her neighbour, and having forked over £4.90, I took the tour and have written below the text from each plaque should, by some miracle, it turn out that she’s right.

Bin 1 – Boudica (circa AD 60/61)

This bin was bequeathed to Boudica, Queen of the Iceni, by her husband Prasutagus in his will, with the Romans being given the blue one for recycling. The Romans ignored the will and instead claimed not only the blue recycling bin but also the inner carrier for glass, the brown garden waste bin and the green bin for every day waste. “Have we not been robbed entirely of most of our household and garden waste management facilities?“ (Words, according to the Roman historian, Cassio Dio, that were said by Boudica to motivate her Iceni troops into seeking revenge upon the occupying forces).

Famously, Boudica rode the brown bin for garden waste into battle, cheese knives poking from its tiny wheels, the whole contraption being pushed by two elderly druids. The bin was believed to have been pivotal in the Iceni triumph at Camulodunum (Colchester) as Boudica was able to lower the lid and hide every time arrows flew over. The bin was believed lost at the Iceni defeat to Suetonius who, according to Tacitus, took it as tribute for Emperor Nero, who immediately sent it back, having no real time for gardening and anyway the bins for garden waste in Rome were yellow. Ironically, and perhaps as a fitting memorial to the late Iceni queen, such bins are now indeed brown in Rome.  

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, round the back of Asda on the 14th November 2023, and reclaimed for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 2 – Bonnie Prince Charlie

After defeat at the Battle of Culloden in 1746, Charles Edward Stuart fled, making his way to the Hebrides, seeking shelter from the British government supporters who were in active pursuit of him. For five months he criss-crossed between Hebridean islands in a desperate attempt to elude those who sought to claim the £30,000 that was upon his head (quite a feat, but an impractical affectation that slowed down his movement). Whilst sheltering on the island of Benbecula (named after a lesser known Romanian vampire), he met Flora MacDonald who agreed to help smuggle him across to Skye and onward if necessary. Having a connection with the local council refuse collectors (her cousin Bernice operated the cart), she smuggled the young Prince inside a brown bin for garden waste across to Skye then Raasay. Although Flora herself was captured and placed briefly in the Tower of London, it being a Wednesday, the French picked up the brown bin for garden waste and took it back to France. It was held in the Stuart family’s personal collection until it was eventually brought back to England in the Victorian Age alongside Henry V’s Rubix’s Cube.

Of course the Prince’s nickname of ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ is a corruption of ‘Binnie Prince Charlie’, which he was dubbed after this escapade.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, round the back of Betfred’s bookies on the high street on the 27th October 2024, and reclaimed for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 3 – Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s Great Waste Bin

Victorian industrial grand inventor, engineer extraordinaire and excessively tall hat-wearer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, was a metaphorical giant of his age, though only four foot seven with his stovepipe hat on. Famed for his tunnels, bridges, and pioneering work on the railways, he is also quite rightly remembered as being at the forefront of transatlantic shipping. But before his success with his steam-powered Great Western, Great Britain, and Great Eastern, Brunel carried out experiments on the viability of powering a ship using coal right across the Atlantic with significantly smaller vessels. His steam-powered pedalo, the Great Pedaller, left a lot to be desired, running out of coal only five miles out from Liverpool. However, his steam-powered brown bin for garden waste, the Great Waste Bin, made it as far as Iceland carrying two diminutive passengers and a shovel. It was heralded as a roaring success and shortly after the Great Western went into manufacture.

Until 1965 the Great Waste Bin was held as a prize exhibit at the Reykjavik Maritime Museum before being purchased by a private collector in London who was believed to have been a Rolling Stone.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, by the railway tracks near Byker on the 3rd January 2024, and reclaimed for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 4 – Schrödinger’s Bin

It is undoubtedly unethical to put cats into brown bins used for garden waste and yet this is precisely what Erwin Schrödinger’s 1935 thought experiment proposes. Inspired by the furore caused by that woman caught on CCTV putting a cat into a bin a mere seventy five years later in 2010 – a temporal anomaly that Quantum Physics has ironically failed yet to explain, the thought experiment is still prominent in the world of Physics even to this day. What Schrödinger posited was that the cat exists in two distinct quantum positions when placed inside a brown bin used for garden waste. Firstly, it is a cat stuck in a brown bin used for garden waste. Secondly and concurrently, it also, by the very nature of having been placed inside a brown bin specifically designated for garden waste, is hedge trimmings and dead-headed begonias. The moment the bin lid is opened one of those concurrent states dissolves and instead you have an irate cat.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, at low tide in the Ouse near Seven Stories on the 30th July 2021, and reclaimed for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 5 – Oscar the Grouch’s pied-a-terre in Newcastle

When Sesame Street started in 1969, Oscar the Grouch had only recently finished recording the radio adaptation of ‘The Likely Lads’ in Newcastle (he played Terry’s sister Audrey in two episodes when Sheila Fearn had measles and couldn’t do it). For this he had rented a brown bin for garden waste as a pied-a-terre so he could live locally and not have to commute from New York each week. It also turned out cheaper than staying in a hotel and gave him the flexibility should the film version that was in early development turn out to be a reality. When Sesame Street proved to be a rip-roaring success, he gave up the understudy work in British sitcoms and by extension the brown bin for garden waste, though did lend it to a young aspiring Snuffleupagus whilst he learnt the ropes of repertory theatre, before he himself also joined ‘Sesame Street’ in ’71.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, at a local car-boot sale on the 6th April 2024, having been the property of the Shepherd estate for nigh on fifty years. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 6 – The Bouncing Bin

At the height of the Second World War, Barnes Neville Wallis, inventor and member of the RAF, famously developed and designed the ‘bouncing bomb’ a key weapon in destroying dams and damaging the Axis Powers’ war effort. It is well-known that he was helped by George Edwards’ cricketing knowledge and use of backspin on the bomb, what is less well-known was the concurrent development of the bouncing bin by bombardier and later comedy legend, Frankie Howerd. Hearing of the Barnes Wallis’ project via a gossipy stagehand at the Plymouth Pavilions, Howerd decided that such a bomb should look innocuous so not as to raise the alarm with German spies. He thus developed the brown bin for garden waste to be the shell of a such a bomb, however when he shared his prototype with Barnes Wallis and George Edwards they quickly dismissed it as you can’t bowl a googly with a brown bin for garden waste. Howerd’s bin was stored as an afterthought in the Imperial War Museum until during an inventory in 1987 it was mistaken for an ordinary brown bin for garden waste and placed out back.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, out the back of the Imperial War Museum on the 23rd November 1987. I reclaimed it for my own private use before donating it to the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 7 – The Bottomless Bin

On loan to the museum from the estate of Trevor and Simon this bin has no bottom. It is the bin without a bottom. There is nothing at the bottom of the bottomless bin as it is a bin without a bottom. Do not place duvets in the bottomless bin, as it doesn’t do duvets.

Bin 8 – Proto-Tardis

When it was first created back in 1963, the initial script had the time machine, the TARDIS, being a brown bin for garden waste. At least for the external shots. For the internal shots, the BBC used their studios in Shepherd’s Bush. The Doctor and his companions would lift the lid, climb in, and miraculously the interior was much larger and could accommodate not only grass cuttings, dead-headed peonies, but also broken fence posts, paving slabs and knackered lawn mowers.

William Hartnell, who had been shot in the leg in Burma during the Second World War, was finding it impossible clambering up and into the bin each time the Doctor needed to go anywhere and so the director at the time made the executive decision to replace it with a police box – an item, ironically, that swiftly became obsolete whereas the brown bin for garden waste is as relevant today as it was in 1963.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, in a back alley in North Shields where it had been abandoned after a location shot for a serial in the first series ‘The Keys of Marinus’. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 9 – Houdini’s Trick

Celebrated escapologist and amateur crab masseuse, Harry Houdini, performed many a feat of astonishing ingenuity and dexterity, testing the very extremes of human endurance. Houdini had made a reputation for himself internationally with such miraculous performances as ‘The Milk Can Escape’, ‘The Chinese Water Torture Cell’ and ‘The Exiting Birmingham’s Spaghetti Junction in Friday Rush Hour Traffic in Less than Half an Hour Trick’.

With so many imitators of his ‘Milk Can Escape’, Houdini developed his most daring trick to that date in 1911, ‘The Escape from a Brown Bin for Garden Waste’. Houdini was placed in a straight jacket and placed inside the bin, then was padlocked and submerged in a large swimming baths that was hosting the 1911 European Water Polo Competition where he was scheduled to emerge during half-time of the match between his native Austria-Hungary and England. Ever the dramatic showman, he instead, much to the growing anxiety of the crowd, emerged with thirty seconds left on the game clock, blocking a goal-bound shot from the English team and swimming up to the other ‘end’ and scoring the winning goal for Austria-Hungary. The International Water Polo Organisation then disqualified Austria-Hungary as Houdini wasn’t a registered competitor. It caused a major diplomatic incident eventually leading to the Austro-Hungarian Empire siding with Germany during WWI.

The bin loitered in the Austro-Hungarian Embassy in London until WWI broke out. Its location was thought lost until it re-emerged in a production of ‘Whistle Down the Wind’ at Newcastle Theatre Royal.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, round the back of the theatre on the 12th July 2019. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 10 – Raspubin

The historian Boney M’s claim that Rasputin was Russia’s greatest love machine is difficult to substantiate beyond an anecdotal account and even then how is such a concept quantified? Other parts of their 1978 treatise on the late mystic and confidante of the ill-fated Romanov family purportedly describes how difficult he was to kill. “This man’s just gotta go“ is a poor translation from the original Russian of the conspirators. What has come down to posterity thanks to Boney M and other experts on the collapse of the Russian monarchy and rise of the Communist state is the idea that he was poisoned, then shot, then shot again and finally thrown in a river wrapped in a cloth. The one important element that such noted historians have neglected to report is that after the poisoning failed, they sealed Rasputin in a brown bin for garden waste intending to asphyxiate him, only for the wily scamp to gnaw through the bottom, creating two leg holes, that he used to firstly allow him to breathe and secondly to run away looking like a low-budget robot from a 1950s B-Movie. This attempted escape only elongated his life by about forty-five minutes once the conspirators had finished laughing and found a gun that worked.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, in a house clearance sale of an old woman who was supposedly the granddaughter of Anastasia Romanov in Blyth on the 30th August 2025. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 11 – Bono’s Bin

Originally for their PopMart Tour, U2 had all planned to emerge from different bins. Both Larry and Adam are massive Oscar the Grouch fans, and The Edge spent the summer of 1974 working on the dustcarts. Adam was to emerge out of a black bin for general waste, Larry from a green one for recycling, The Edge from a traditional silver metal bin, and Bono from a brown bin for garden waste. Each bin had disco-ball interiors and dayglo wheels. However, at dress rehearsals Larry started to hyperventilate, suffering from chronic claustrophobia, and the plan was scrapped. Ultimately the bins were replaced by a giant lemon that Bono was able to get at a discount from his Uncle Tony who was a costermonger in County Derry.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, in the attic of The Edge’s former hat de-linter who now lives in Jesmond and said I could have it on the 1st February 2022. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 12 – Bill and Ben’s Bin

Bill and Ben are renowned of course for being the flowerpot men, but initially in development they were the brown bin for garden waste men. Ben would emerge from a brown bin for garden waste and Bill would emerge from a brown bin for garden waste. Weed emerged from a soup tureen with a photograph of Gladstone on it though this in itself was replaced because of the BBC’s charter to be politically unbiased even posthumously (hence the original title for ‘Minder’ – ‘Disraeli was a Nonce’ being scrapped). The bins were replaced after the theme song was written as ‘Bill and Ben the Brown Bin for Garden Waste Men’ didn’t scan at all.

It is unclear whether the bin is the bin that was Ben’s bin or whether it is the bin that was Bill’s bin, particularly as during production, the bins swapped so that Bill’s bin became Ben’s bin and Ben’s bin became Bill’s bin, so that one was Ben’s bin that had been Bill’s bin and one was Bill’s bin that had been Ben’s bin. Rumour has it Ben’s bin was a thin bin though whether that was Ben’s bin that had been Bill’s bin that was a thin bin or whether it was Ben’s bin that was now Bill’s bin that was a thin bin is unclear. And anyway this bin is not a thin bin so it is either Ben’s bin that then became Bill’s bin or Bill’s bin that was Ben’s bin. Although this rumour is unsubstantiated so it could be Ben’s bin that wasn’t a thin bin that used to be Bill’s bin or Bill’s bin that wasn’t a thin bin that used to be Ben’s bin.

I’ve decided to label it ‘Bill and Ben’s bin’.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, in the Biddy Baxter’s estate sale, on the 20th October 2025. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

Bin 13 – Princess Margaret’s Bin

As Queen Elizabeth II’s younger sister, Princess Margaret spent the majority of her existence under the close scrutiny of the media’s collective eye. Such an intensely monitored life led not only to the breakdown of her relationships, and her marriage, but also to a hushed-up mental collapse, during which time a heavily disguised Anita Ekberg filled in for her on all formal occasions. It was 1979, shortly after her divorce from the 1st Earl of Snowdon that Margaret decided she had to break free from her royal existence or implode. She thus ran away to Swanage and spent five months working on the bins, disguised as a man called Steve. During that time, she later wrote in her unpublished memoirs ‘Madge & Steve: The Ups and Downs of an Itinerant Royal and Refuse Worker’, she became particularly fond of the brown bins for garden waste citing them as a ‘spiritual soul-mate’. When she left in the October of ’79 – the Secret Service dragging her back against her will as Ekberg had resigned to go kayaking down the Orinocho, she bribed several agents into taking a brown bin for garden waste with them. There it remained at Kensington Palace until her death (she had asked to be buried in it, but the Queen refused), when it was quietly disposed of in a back alley.

It was found by me, Gladys Throatsweet, in said back alley in London on the 14th February 2002. I reclaimed it for the British people as part of the museum’s collection.

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