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Paul ‘Wicky' Wickstead, is a state-certified cleaning technician with a very special field of work: as a crime scene cleaner he is responsible for the removal of any signs of death.Wicky works for Shropshire-based cleaning contractors Lausen and is usually found, together with his baby-blue pickup truck, at crime scenes after the police have concluded their detective work.Armed with chemicals, scrubbing brushes and cleaning rags, Wicky removes the gruesome mess at the scene of the crime. When carrying out his duties, he stumbles across the strangest of people: from the victim's relatives, employers, neighbours and acquaintances, to occasionally even the murderers themselves. And because he's a sociable type, he sometimes gossips more than he cleans
Wicky finds himself on a job for an old childhood school friend, Justin, who it turns out has done rather well for himself. Justin's got the lot: a dream house, a supercar, an adorable child, a grand piano, and a big pool of blood in his hall where the grand piano unfortunately fell on someone. Good thing Wicky's there to clean up.
Reunited after years, Wicky and Justin decide to call up a few other old friends and get the gang back together again. But Wicky finds it increasingly hard to keep a lid on his massive jealousy. How come Justin got to gobble up all the luck, like a luck pie? And how come everyone else seems to have ended up happier than him?
There's been an incident in a shepherd's hut, and Wicky's called in to clean it up asap so it can go back to being rented out by its formidable owner, Lara. He'd better get his act together, because the heavily pregnant Lara expects ruthless efficiency from all her employees, and Lara's gardener Donald and mother Caroline don't exactly make life easier for Wicky.
And there's another problem: the hut is covered in honk and plop. This raises two questions: one, can Wicky overcome his very serious aversion to honk and plop for long enough to do his job? And two, is honk and plop a phrase? Either way, he'd better get on with it before Lara tears him a new one.
An elderly patron at a community centre has suffered a (slightly) premature death, and Wicky has been called in to clean up. He's rather looking forward to it – he's great with old people. Or so he thinks. It turns out Drakefield Community Centre is a simmering cauldron of rivalries, gossip and drama, just barely kept operating by strung-out manager Margaret and ruled over by a mysterious committee of unseen elders who rule from the shadows with an iron fist.
Will Wicky make a good impression with his natural charm and excellent singing voice? Or will he anger and offend literally everyone he meets. Either way, the committee will hear about this!
Wicky's been called to a remote and windswept lighthouse off the coast of Ireland. The keeper's mate has been lost at sea, and Wicky has to clean up his personal belongings – just your standard sweep-and-clear. It should be an easy enough gig for Wicky, who's looking forward to the chance to escape the rat race and commune with nature a bit. But nature doesn't seem too keen to commune. The island is riddled with hostile seagulls and mysterious nautical legends, and home to an epically grumpy lighthouse keeper Brennan, who insists that dark and powerful forces are at work, and that all is not what it seems. Plus there's a folk song and a jellyfish. Wicky's got his work cut out for him.
Wicky heads to a stately home to clean up after the sad demise of an estate agent. He's expecting to get a taste of how the other half live. What he finds is a strange time-warped Downton nightmare, a crumbling old pile ruled by a despotic housekeeper, Mrs Barton, who keeps armies of cooks, maids and groundsmen in line with nothing more than a crisply disapproving stare.
Will Wicky get the job done before the return of the fearsome Lady Rice-Phillips, or will he get the boot through the tradesman's entrance? Either way, Wicky slowly discovers there is a little bit more to the estate agent's death than meets the eye.
Wicky's been invited to a royal wedding. The bride is the daughter of none other than Brummie kingpin Bob Mammot, The King of Storage. Bob heads up the biggest storage company in the Black Country, and he's pulled out all the stops for his little girl's special day. But her fairy tale has been interrupted by a baseball bat attack on one of the guests, and it's down to Wicky to clean up the mess.
It takes more than a near-fatal assault with a blunt instrument to derail a Mammot wedding. Because the venue has been booked, the press has been briefed, the police have been bribed, an enormous cake shaped like a storage container has been baked, and some of the Midlands' biggest names have been confirmed. Nothing should get in the way of celebrating the wedding of the century. Hopefully Wicky can get the show back on the road. Or the storage king's terrifying wife Vivien will know the reason why.
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