Blocked Drains Coventry __exclusive__ -

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.”

“That’s a drain baby,” Kev said, chewing gum. “Been growing for months. You got kids?” blocked drains coventry

Marlon just stared. Then he smiled, very slowly. “No problem. Just… next time, call a professional. I know a guy.” Kev packed his gear

“Neighbor’s kids, then. Or you got a secret kebab habit you’re not owning up to.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ve pulled a whole toy soldier collection out of a pipe in Earlsdon. One time in Coundon? A wedding ring. Woman cried when I gave it back.” You call me again in six months

The Tuesday downpour hit Coventry just as the evening rush hour was choking the ring road. Inside his ground-floor flat on Stoney Stanton Road, Marlon was trying to finish a curry when the toilet coughed.

He went back downstairs, opened a beer, and listened to the water in his pipes run clean and fast. For the first time in weeks, the flat felt like his again. And somewhere across Coventry, Kev the Drain Avenger was already on to the next call—a pub toilet in Spon End with a blockage he’d later describe as “a tragedy of corn and misplaced confidence.”