Frank paused, a half-eaten kebab dripping garlic sauce onto his boiler suit. “Singing, love?”
Bath Road, Swindon. Cause of blockage: four antique dolls, possibly haunted. Remedy: high-pressure water jet (3,000 PSI). Additional notes: invest in a longer hose. And maybe a priest.
He lowered the camera again, slower this time. The doll hadn’t moved. But the singing had stopped. Now there was only the scrape-scrape-scrape, louder and closer. Frank panned the camera left. A second doll. And a third. They were lining the walls of the chamber, all identical: porcelain faces, lace gowns, dead eyes. And in their little ceramic hands, they held clumps of hair, grease, and congealed fat—the very stuff of drain blockages. drain unblocking swindon
The next morning, Swindon woke to sunshine. The drains ran clear. And Frank Duckworth, the bravest drain unblocker in Wiltshire, added a new line to his van’s sign, just below the motto:
Frank’s heart was doing a drum solo against his ribs. He’d seen rats the size of cats, fatbergs like ancient glaciers, and one memorable incident involving a badger and a U-bend. But a moving doll in a sewer? That was new. Frank paused, a half-eaten kebab dripping garlic sauce
Then Frank saw the source of the scrape. At the far end of the chamber, a fourth doll was dragging something towards a narrow outlet pipe. It was a bundle of wet wipes and cooking oil, the size of a rolled-up carpet. The doll was building a blockage. Deliberately.
“Mr. Duckworth?” Mrs. Albright called from the stairs. “Is everything all right?” Remedy: high-pressure water jet (3,000 PSI)
“From the drain. The main sewer line under my basement. It’s been gurgling for days, but tonight, it started humming. A tune. An old one.”
