Today's burning question: why the Hell did I find a used condom in front of the cash-machine this morning? If it had been a cash-point in a back alley, I might be able to understand its involuntary witness to seedy street-sex, but since the bank to which it belonged is in the Market Square, there is simply no way one could indulge oneself in a spot of urban dogging without being caught in flagrante delicto by passing taxi drivers.
There are several nearby side-streets that could, perhaps, be considered suitable locations for outdoor inner city trysts, but all of them have adequate bin-coverage, implying that either the contraceptive was defiantly carried past such devices and then deliberately discarded in front of Barclays, or that our mysterious Durex was placed in a pocket for safe-keeping, only to escape confinement as our unidentified felon was fishing for their debit card, hoping to draw out money for reasons mercifully unknown. As bad as the former scenario is, the latter is far worse.
The only other possibility is that our errant johnny was in fact cast aside in triumph down a side street and then transferred by unknown means to right between my goddamn feet as I inspected my bank balance. Given the clement weather of late a freak gust of wind seem unlikely, and whilst school children are notorious for kicking around the various street detritus they find from place to place, surely even today's surly, quasi-feral youths would balk at practicing their dribbling skills with a used prophylactic.
That's as far as my thinking's gotten, at any rate. Any suggestions from you lot as to a plausible scenario?