I was in John Lewis waiting in a queue for the till and chatting to the woman in front of me, who was holding a very small modern matte black swing bin. The sort you'd put in your bathroom if you're a rule breaking maverick 
She was admiring it and swinging the little lid back and forth and saying "it's just so chic and lovely! The clean lines of it - it's so modern!" We both gazed at the thing in wonderment together and I agreed that it was indeed the chicest of all bins that had ever been bestowed upon the world.
Unfortunately I was born with two superpowers:^^ the first is being instantly aware of any potential flaw in a plan and the second is being incapable of keeping my fucking mouth shut.
"How do you hide the bin liner?" I asked.
"W..what?"
"The bin liner? If you hoik it over the side of the bin and clamp it in place with the lid you'll have a frill of white plastic round the edge."
"oh, I....er..."
She took the lid off the bin and we peered in. There was no magic bin liner concealing device that we could see.
"Or you could just wash it out every time you emptied it," I said brightly
"Oh no, I definitely use liners!"
"Do they make black liners?" I said hopefully. We had now approached the front of the queue.
"Do you do black liners?" we asked the lady at the till. After a certain amount of hand wringing and pained expressions, she confirmed they did not.
We looked again at the bin. It stared back at us in defiance, £12.50 worth of mute plastic resentment. I placed my hand on the lady's arm in solidarity. She shook it off.
"It's FINE."
"Perhaps if you..."
"No, it's no good. I'll always see the bin liner."
The cashier reached for the bin to scan it.
"No." Said the lady. " I do not want the bin." And she turned and left.