Warning: Graphic Image below

It’s 10:45pm, and I’m desperate for the loo. I’m sitting in the dark, legs pressed together, tears threatening as I beg the weekend team at Westminster City Council, the freeholder of my four-bedroom maisonette, to send someone to help stop an endless flood of sewage that is now pouring into my home. It is not only destroying my house but also means I have no facilities to use.

The nightmare had started the evening before, on a Saturday towards the end of September, unbeknownst to me as I was out. On returning home, I found my entire downstairs strewn with sewage , water, faeces and loo roll spanning from the front to the back door, courtesy of the downstairs toilet. My first response was horror, my second, to call the council for help.

Our house is with

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