That night, Marlon knocked on his upstairs neighbor’s door. A student named Chloe appeared, clutching a bottle of white wine. “Hey! Sorry about the noise earlier—our sink was slow, so we poured some of that gel stuff down. Hope that’s okay?”
It was a nightmare collage: congealed fat, a child’s hair scrunchie, a surprisingly intact takeaway menu from Ali’s Kebab House , and what looked like a tangle of wet wipes, despite the packaging’s flushable lie. blocked drains coventry
“No.”
Marlon stared at the mess: grease, sludge, and the skeletal remains of what might have been a rubber duck. “Is it… fixed?” That night, Marlon knocked on his upstairs neighbor’s door
Kev packed his gear. “Better than new. But here’s the thing, pal. You call me again in six months? I’ll bring a camera for the other reason.” He tapped his nose. “Blocked drains don’t happen by accident. Somewhere up there, someone’s pouring fat down the sink like they’re trying to grease a lorry.” Sorry about the noise earlier—our sink was slow,