‘I went bin dipping behind Tesco on the Oxford Road and it was a transcendental experience’

If you manage to avoid hepatitis you’re in for a late spring treat!

By Sam Dedalus

Like everyone else in this  ̶c̶i̶t̶y̶  town, I had long heard the legends of a very special, very hidden gem behind Tesco Extra on the Oxford Road. A treasure trove of expired goodies sitting, waiting for the intrepid refuse rambler to discover. Eager to try it out, I made my way to the famous bins to find out for myself. 

As I scaled the fence to reach the spot (all the best adventures require a touch of elbow grease, perseverance and a deep gash to your Achilles), a wondrous sight came into view. Six 1100L steel beauties with assorted lid colours waiting for my incursion, among them the crown jewel of them all – the General Food Waste Bin.

A music-loving diner peruses the ever-changing menu (photo credit: Paul Long)

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This remarkable dumpster diamond touches the noses of everyone in the area, from Western Elms to Grovelands. Excitedly, I quickly opened the lid for a closer inspection of the potential culinary prizes on offer. Contrary to expectation, however, the breakfast pickings were rather disappointing.

Aside from a slightly suspect pack of pork pies (probably fine if you nuked them in the microwave) and the obligatory discarded baggy (empty, we checked) there was little of note. I was glad I had on my best dungarees for the occasion. The rusty metal made an authentic clang as I climbed in to retrieve my underwhelming returns.

Just as I was accepting defeat and preparing to abscond to Val’s Cafe on the Norcot roundabout, I was tipped off by one of the locals that I may well have misjudged the timing of my visit – apparently very little food expires at 10 o’clock in the morning. 

Obviously, I was previously aware of this being an experienced explorer and merely visited at this time to pad out this article. With that in mind there should probably be some sort of ad here to help contribute to the sense of moving forward in time.

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The pork pies, it turned out, were surprisingly okay, and – washed down with a few mouthfuls of stale bong water – only induced a minor amount of emesis. Normally scoffed down cold in floods of tears, the uneven heat lent by the Tesco staff room microwave added an interesting novelty to the occasion.

My return later that evening was far more fruitful: four bags of only mildly shrivelled oranges and two packs of bruised ‘jazz’ apples. The icing on the cake, however, was the icing from a cake. Along with a (nearly) new condom and a not-entirely-unstale open pack of scampi & lemon-smelling Nik Naks in Rib ‘n’ Saucy packaging.

Crushing down the crisps and moistening them with the clem juice and the remnants from a can of Ocokim Mocne effectively offset the dryness.

Mature citrus as dessert to make even the most ambivalent Sevillian puce with jealous rage (photo credit: Paul Long)

As far as dining experiences go, little can compare to the feeling of sharing a moment like this with people who only scare you a little bit, the entire group munching on mouldy clementines and Nik Naks. There was a pleasing community feel to it all.

The faint sulphur smell adequately masked any unsavoury odours and added a certain charm and authenticity to the whole affair. All in all, it was a solid 5 out of 7 budget dining experience. Would recommend.

Do you know of any potential bin feasts in the local area? Please get in touch with our reporter. Or don’t, actually.

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