On task in Irian Jaya, our chopper crew was invited to spend a night on a French oil rig and have a feed of fish and frog's legs. Rather nice, too.
Next morning, time for a constitutional, walked along the wooden pier to the cubicle at the end. This cubicle was open to the sky, and was just a hole in the pier with footprints painted either side. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta doo-doo. It drops into the oggin, and a fish frenzy attacks it for their breakfast. Walking back to my cabin, I see the French crew fishing off the side of the pier... I suppose you call that recycling.