Drain Unblocking Swindon -

Silence. Then a low, guttural growl that seemed to come from the earth itself.

Frank’s professional outrage flared brighter than his fear. “You little blighters,” he hissed into the shaft. “That’s my livelihood you’re messing with.” drain unblocking swindon

Bath Road was a picture of suburban misery. The gutters were overflowing, and number 17’s front garden had become a murky pond. Mrs. Albright met him at the door in a floral dressing gown, her knuckles white around a mug of tea. Silence

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. “You little blighters,” he hissed into the shaft

“It’s down there,” she whispered, pointing to the cellar steps.

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: