Drain Jetting Dunstable | !!better!!

"Tree roots?" the café owner asked, peering over Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur hauled it up and dropped it onto the tarmac. It was a heavy, waterlogged bundle of grease and rags, and wrapped inside it was a single, heavy-duty builder’s tarpaulin, wedged tight.

The owner of the café was standing outside, wringing his hands. "Mr. Penderghast, thank goodness. The smell... the customers are leaving."