In life we find inspiration in a great many things; in the tender reading of a prayer, in the joyous laughter of a child or in the curiously soulless Susan Boyle version of a previously inspirational song. This week, as in most weeks, I have been inspired by myself. My recent clean up effort was so noble, so affecting and profound that I have decided to take up my mantle, to take the baton from myself, to continue my legacy in my name and basically do it again. But this time, to the max! That is, to the maximum amount. To the absolute most amount of doing it that can actually be done.
We find ourselves in the midst of the National Spring Clean, the campaign run by Keep Scotland Tidy that encourages people to take to the streets and clean them the hell up. I admire it for its principles and also its realistic sense of how much people can really be bothered with this kind of thing. Knowing that National Spring Clean Week isn’t going to cut it, they’re running the campaign from 14 March to 16 May. Like a persistent parent to our untidy teenagers littering the country’s bedrooms, they know we’ll get around to it if they keep nagging long enough.
It’s certainly worked on me. I vowed to get together a merry band of volunteers to scrape gum from pavements, take cans and bottles to the nation’s finest recycling centres, and generally risk contracting hepatitis C in the name of Gore. I drew up a list of required archetypes: the plucky youngster with a gal back home, the loose cannon who’ll recycle first and ask questions later, the former champion bin-man whose fame gave way to scandal, and the old rummy with a heart of gold and nothing left to lose. Then I figured it’d just be easier to join a pre-existing merry band of volunteers given there’s already 1,191 already organised.
To swell the ranks I’ll look to enlist a minion or two. I’ve already requested the help of my current life partner who, in the interests of anonymity, we will hereafter refer to as ‘Mrs Zero’. She’s got the strength of an ox, the heart of a lion and, sadly, the temperament of Ian Paisley. I’ve also nagged a former co-worker, friend and fan who, in the interests of anonymity, we will hereafter refer to as ‘My Bitch’. He’s a good guy, a loyal and fervent follower, and as funny to hang out with as he is to look at. They’ll be worthy additions to the team.
And for those of you trying to discover my real identity, be not fooled by my taking part in a Scottish campaign. The Zero Submarine from where I plan my attacks is simply in Scottish waters at present. Next week I could be planting trees on the streets of Reykjavik, building solar panels on the slums of Johannesburg or buying environmentally friendly washing up liquid from the corner shops of Scotland.
Photo credit: The Zero
