Glistening Fatberg Lurks in the Dark Places Below

The hunt for the killer hairballs

There is one story that many flushers in London like to recount. It concerns a fat iceberg that had been building up below Leicester Square over the course of a whole decade. Eventually, this 150-square-foot "slug of hardened fat" grew so large that it was impassable. A gang of flushers armed with supersucker machines spent six weeks one blazing summer trying to dislodge it. By the time they finished they were reduced to using ice picks to hack away at the white mountain.

"It looks like a huge packet of lard. It shines in the dark and gives off this phenomenal transparent heat. Within ten minutes, as soon as you stick a shovel in it, you could slide through. The water comes at you like a dyke. The risks are colossal. Later, an animal food company got in touch because they wanted to buy and recirculate the fat."

Previously.

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14 Responses:

  1. vincel says:

    And this is how margarine is born.

  2. matrushkaka says:

    Yummy ...

  3. kimberley66 says:

    Luckily I read this AFTER I had lunch. . .

    then again. . . .gurgle gurgle gurgle

  4. fantasygoat says:

    Ugh.

  5. ladykalessia says:

    Transparent... heat?

    Huh?

  6. lordshell says:

    That would reach a whole new level of "Jobs I Would Never Take Even if Offered Regular Sex With Angelina Jolie in Recompensation"

    • enochsmiles says:

      Funny, I was just thinking it would be fun to volunteer. That's what I get for reading Neverwhere as a lad.

      • quercus says:

        Open it up for LARPers as the latest novelty entertainment in Leicester Square.. It could be the new Treasure Trap

  7. ammutbite says:

    Anyone remember the liner notes to "The Sewage Worker's B-Day Party" By Coil? I just did...

  8. lifftchi says:

    "It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train - a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon us, crushing the frantic penguins and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter. Still came that eldritch, mocking cry- "Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!" and at last we remembered that the demoniac Shoggoths - given life, thought, and plastic organ patterns solely by the Old Ones, and having no language save that which the dot groups expressed - had likewise no voice save the imitated accents of their bygone masters."

  9. benediktus says:

    "sewer, gas & electric" for real....