I'm a tosser

I struggled from my sick bed this morning to spend the day at Rough Edges, filling a skip. No, I didn't really struggle; I was fine apart from aching ribs from all the retching.

I had to be there early because the skip was being delivered between 9.30 and 12. It arrived at about 10 and after it had been deposited I asked the delivery man if he was picking it up this evening: I was under the impression we only had it for one day. He shrugged. "Nothing to do with me. I'm just the deliverer."

"I know what you mean: I'm just the tosser. No! I don't mean I'm a tosser . . . I'm just the one . . ." but he was already climbing back into his cab.

It turns out we have the skip for a fortnight but it's nearly already full.