So, instead of lounging in bed like the rest of the world, CF will be grubbing about in the verges, collecting filthy pieces of crap.
You know, all that stuff that you threw out of your car window in the middle of nowhere, in the fond belief that it would instantly turn into a little bunny rabbit and scurry off into the undergrowth.
Actually, it doesn't. It turns into a slimy ball of shit, with muddy rainwater in its every crease.
If you ever want to confirm your view of the great British public, try picking up its discarded Monster Munch bags and Diet Coke tins for a couple of hours.
++ UPDATE ++ Done. 20 full bin bags, from about a mile and a half of roads. You filthy fuckers. The 'National Speed Limit' sign is not actually the point at which it becomes OK to wind down your windows and chuck out your fag packets and empty Tesco-brand lager tinnies.