In the olden days, rolling was an industry round these parts.

Plenty of dung to go round you see, so when they built the railways it was an obvious choice; the boilers needed fuel, and a few hundred beetles rolling five hours a night is plenty to keep the Underhill mainline chugging away.

Rollers gathered the fuel, earth-borers cut shafts so the smoke didn’t choke us all out. We even roped in an ant queen to keep moles at bay.

But those days are behind us now. If a beetle’s got business downhill, they’ll have a smooth ride on trains powered by hornet-sourced sunlight. No more rolling, no more smoke. The whole network’s switched over.

Well, not everything…

We’ve still got one stretch of track. A reminder of our heritage; a few rollers, two battered old locomotives, the sweet scent of burning dung lingering in the tunnel air.

Just like it used to be.