And Harold has struggled to find any real evidence of victimisation. There's Willy's bedroom being larger, and the dog bowl incident, but really, if these are the highlights, then no-one need bother buying his tawdry tell-all book.
And in any case, since he's admitted to experiencing bizarre hallucinations of speaking dustbins, how do we know the entire dog bowl episode isn't merely a product of his febrile imagination? Indeed, maybe his whole life is a hallucination, and we are all living in it.
Nothing has any objective existence save the Bin. There is nothing outside the Bin.
We are all but fleeting shadows, humanity's greatest triumphs and achievements are but gaudy tinsel that was once wrapped around a Quality Street, and is now crumpled into a ball and sent soaring Bin-wards.