Fire-fighting robot

Our street is slap in the middle of the two university campuses (campusii??) in the town. This, of course, means that there's a lot of students live down here. The house next door usually has three or four living in there. Generally they're ok, and I remember what it was like to have a miserable old so-and-so living next to me at university, so I'm generally quite chilled about them. Apart from the girls who lived there a few years ago and decided B*Witched's Don't Blame It On The Weatherman was acceptable listening at ear-splitting volume one 2am. Soon persuaded them it wasn't.

Anyway, every June the students move out of next door, and leave bags and bags of rubbish ready for the binmen. This particular lot a couple of years ago left a metal wastepaper bin outside, which the binmen didn't pick up. It did a few laps of the street over the coming few weeks and eventually ended up outside my house.

Cue ring on the doorbell - it's Tony* from a few doors down wondering if he could have it. Mum had answered the door, and assured him it wasn't ours, had been hanging around for a while, and he was absolutely welcome to it.

Tony is, well, ermm.....well I *think* he does something with computers. Certainly his front room is piled high with all kinds of bits and bobs. He's also built what looks like an Anderson shelter in his back garden. I'm wondering if he knows something I don't.

So, having been reassured it would be absolutely fine for him to have the wastepaper bin he said "Great, I'm going to build a fire-fighting robot."

I have vision of him painting it red and filling it with sand......



*not his real name.