I’m in the waste management business; a consultant if you will, but I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I’m a dark-haired, middle aged man with a family.  Paunched and balding, I speak with an accent, drink whiskey and I smoke cigars with my windows down while Alabama 3 plays on the car stereo 

BadaBing! –Of course! That explains why people keep confusing me with Tony Soprano! ‘either that, or the fact that I shall work tirelessly, at any time of the day, sometimes moving around quietly, in the middle of the night, to solve your waste problems, no matter how dirty or difficult (so long as they are in the Westcountry area). 

To be honest, my accent is Somerset at best, and hailing from the region, even if I did drink, it would have to be cider, lest I be run out of town in a hail of over-ripe apples(which incidentally, I am often called upon to clear up).  I don’t smoke cigars, although I was once enlisted to remove up a burned mattress after one of my clients fell asleep smoking a roll-up, but that is a close as I get. 

As for the baldness and the paunch, they are a grim reality that in no way affects my ability to get the job done.  Countless house clearance jobs have afforded me access to many unwanted hats, wigs and girdles, which I will happily don should the task require and I will drive well to a wide range of radio airplay accompaniment.  Whether I drive with my windows up or down is my business, but more often than not, it’s simply weather dependent.                                

I do however, regularly visit a therapist, and she will not mind me telling you that her name is Dr Jennifer Monki.  She is my regular, stalwart support; sometimes thrice weekly, and I am glad to have her.  Doctor Monki’s methods border on the unorthodox, but are nonetheless responsible in part, for getting me up in the morning and enabling me to earn the honest crust that I do.  

Before you reconsider unleashing what you may believe to be an unstable, but competitively priced, refuse operative into your domestic or business environment, I would just like to mention a little more about Doctor Monki’s groundbreaking practices. During her therapy sessions, which focus on the healing power of tactile engagement, it is not unknown for her to bring an entire troop of monkeys into her group sessions, wherein those in need of succour, can cuddle, caper, groom and bond with a variety of Rhesus Macaques, or dress up in furry suits and opt in to the experimental and rather more vigorous, Bonobo and Chimp “Primal Cave” sessions.   

Whether it is scraped from the walls in the aftermath of a hardcore chimp party, or merely swept up from the floor of the multiple primate enclosures in Dr Monki’s rolling country estate, I arrive as many times a week as is needed, to affect the safe and hygienic removal and transportation of the many byproducts of Dr Monki’s apparently effective, zoological primate programme, and she remains to this day, one of my most valued and satisfied repeat customers.   

Doctor Monki, and I suspect that name to be as real as the qualifications hanging on her spattered walls, has often been kind enough to offer payment via therapeutic treatments(she must have heard about me accepting girdles), but I fear I would have to seek more conventional therapy after attending any her classes and I do not entirely trust the lengthy waiver I would have to sign. Having said that, many of the clients I see emerging from the cellar where they are hosed down and given their antibiotic shots, do appear to be relatively happy and have perfectly normal waste-disposal requirements, as I have been glad to discover  

So now that you have read this far and in doing so, have hopefully assuaged any doubts, you may have had about my professionalism or competence, I challenge you to “put your mess, to the test” and phone for a quote today. I also urge you to visit Dr Monki’s place, not necessarily for her services, but to cast an eye over what is undoubtedly a remarkably well-kept and pristine estate, in which I am proud to do my part to maintain. 

Pick up the phone. 

No time wasters, please; but waste-makers are welcome.