TwistedPig

It was 7 pm. Zach was driving home late from the office when he felt a buzzing around his ankle. “Oh shit,” he thought, suddenly realising where he was.

The buzz came from the ankle monitor clamped just above his left foot. Its bulky frame housed a GPS tracker, activated as he drove through the industrial estate a mile from home.

The monitor was sealed with a steel padlock. The key was held by an anonymous guy that Zach had been chatting with online. Their conversations had started with fantasies about manual labourers and tradesmen, and Zach had shared his obsession with work gear, hi-vis polos, and boots.

Over weeks, each fantasy had grown more elaborate. Zach had eventually agreed to a daring proposal in real life.

Then the package arrived: a GPS ankle monitor with a padlock and a “compliance collar.” Instructions were clear. The ankle monitor was to be worn 24/7, hidden under baggy trousers if needed. The collar, thick and rigid with two metal probes, locked instantly when fastened and could only be released remotely. It was bulky and impractical for continuous wear, but designed to enforce obedience until a task was completed.

The faint buzz of the ankle monitor turned into a sharp, insistent rattle. His phone vibrated with a message: “COLLAR REQUIRED.” Zach knew he had 60 seconds to put it on before the ankle monitor emitted an ear-piercing alarm — attention he did not want.

He pulled over, scrambled through his bag, and fastened the collar around his neck. The magnetic clasp clicked securely into place. It wasn’t suffocating, but removal was impossible without the remote release. The collar pressed beneath his work shirt.

Another buzz. New instructions: “Put on hi-vis. Pick up litter. Five bags. Photo evidence.”

Short. Direct. Consequences unspoken but understood.

Zach opened the boot of his car. Hi-vis polos, work boots, and litter picking gear waited. He stripped off his shirt and threw on a bright orange hi-vis polo. He’d chosen chunky-collared designs specifically to disguise the compliance collar beneath. Buttoning it to the top, he felt the fabric snug over the collar, locking him further into the ritual.

The ankle monitor was easy to conceal under thick socks and sturdy work boots. Once secured, it seemed almost dormant again.

He grabbed the cheap litter picker in one hand, the blue hoop and bin bag dangling from the other. Gloves protected him from the dubious liquids inside discarded cans and bottles.

The world narrowed. His attention focused solely on the next piece of litter: a crushed Coke can, a faded crisp packet, an old water bottle half-filled with stale, yellow liquid.

Bending for the next piece of litter, the collar shifted slightly, pressing against his skin like a tether.

A lorry roared past, another hi-vis-clad worker behind the wheel. A coffee cup flew out the window, splashing Zach’s clean hi-vis. He barely flinched. The liquid glistened as the street light caught the reflective stripes of his polo.

Time slowed. Thirty minutes in, he had filled three bags when a tingling at his neck reminded him: the collar was ready to deliver a jolt if he didn’t maintain his pace. Heart racing, he moved faster, filling a fourth bag in just seven minutes.

Boots crunched over gravel as he moved through rows of warehouses. Every sweep, every step toward the next piece of litter heightened his awareness of the collar beneath his polo.

Finally, the weight of the last bag caused it to slip through the hoop and crash onto the ground. Zach tied it up and tossed it with the others. He pulled out his phone and snapped evidence of his work, sweat dripping from his forehead, his polo damp with effort. Musky and stinking.

Photo sent.

A soft click at the back of his neck signaled release. He yanked the collar off and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

Gaffer took us all tothe pub at lunchtime for a Christmas treat of a couple of pints. No driving allowed this afternoon after doing a morning clearing an Industrial site.

We all look like i do in this pic. 8 of us causing a bit of a stir amoungst the well dressed office parties. I think we may stink a bit with all the rubbish we've been shovelling and loading onto the flat bed. Mind you we do look a right dirty bunch and for some reason the "suits" are looking uncomfortable. Serves them right for booking into our rougher pub lol.

Today I was on annual leave and needed something to do.  So what better way for a binman to spend his time than doing some unpaid manual labour.  Inspired by walkamongyou, posts from worklad12 and more recently content from hiviz-pup and cleanthestreet (alongside discussions with other lads), I went litter picking.

I put on my PPE for the day. An orange hi vis t-shirt and trousers (which were tucked into my socks), my triple black Nike Air Max 95s and also an Adidas big logo hoodie and cap for the journey. I left home and got to the bus station early, leaving me time to head to Greggs and grab a few pastries. I had a steak bake and energy drink on the bus.

Upon arriving, I set off towards a park I'd been to before for a summer walk. Except this time, it wasn't for a leisurely stroll, it was to graft. I reached an underpass and put my Adidas clothes in my bag, now showing off my fresh high skinfade which complements the look well.

I took out my litter picker and first bin bag, put my gloves on and got to work. Immediately I noticed the attention - or lack of - I was receiving. Either disdain, or treated as if I wasn't there at all. Either way, it felt great! From the underpass, I crossed over a bridge, went through some car parks, some bus stops by the roadside and then got to the park itself. I emptied my first sacks in public bins here, filling two up completely. I saw a few lads in dirty hi Vis and we nodded at each other - the first positive attention I'd got today and confirmation of that unspoken bond between workies.

Continuing on, I went to a lake area with lots of cyclists and joggers who paid no attention to me. I briefly sat down to have a sausage roll, but otherwise I had work to do. My route then started to get even more visible - grass verges between busy roads and eventually I ended up on a set of roundabouts on a busy A road. This was the highlight of the day - so visible. I ensured my 'Community Payback' lanyard (a gift from a good workie mate) with my work ID was visible as I grafted on the roundabouts and worked down the side of the A road back towards my starting point. It hadn't been cleared up in a while.

Eventually the road ran out and I cut back into the park. I went a different route this time - coming across lots of benches with discarded takeaway boxes. A few chavvy lads said hello in passing. I got back to the city centre, deposited some overflowing refuse sacks and had about 30 minutes to spare. I slowly worked towards my bus stop, picking in an area filled with shoppers that also led through a market area. Lots of judgmental looks here, double takes at my lanyard particularly. I went to the nearest bin and deposited my last sack.

In total I recovered 9 full sacks of waste. As I stowed my picker into my bag and walked over to the bus stop, some of the people who had been leering at me seemed a bit miffed that they'd have to spend the journey near a lowly litter picker who stank of sweat.  What a shame.