Last Wednesday, in a layby outside Brackley, Northamptonshire, Trish Savill and her band of self-styled Wombles proudly took photos of their morning’s work: 28 bags stacked neatly against the verge.
It had taken them an hour, but they had barely made a dent in the sprawl of unrecognisable, rotting refuse already working its way into the soil, mixed with dumped white goods and some more dubious finds.
One bag contained 12 empty shoe boxes, the likely aftermath of a theft. Another contained dozens of bottles of what Savill called “driver Tizer – as we affectionately call piss in a bottle”.
Once, she said, they found “a torso from a specialist shop; someone’s night-time entertainment”. On this particular morning there was also “something nasty” deposited in a hard hat. “I know there aren’t enough facilities for drivers,” she said. “But really!”
Three years ago, Savill set up the first of what are now three local litter-picking groups: the Hardcore Wombles, who go out every Wednesday; the Weekend Wombles; and the Community Wombles, who meet monthly with children in tow. The catalyst was a comment at a council meeting. “We were all just fed up with the filth and realised the council didn’t have the staff or money to tackle it,” she said.
Within a fortnight, Brackley Litter Wombles had volunteers and local businesses on board. “It was just this amazing community tipping point in response to a growing epidemic of filth,” she said.
Savill’s sense of escalation is borne out by the data. Government statistics this week showed local authorities in England dealt with about 1.26m fly-tipping incidents in 2024-25, a rise of about 10% on the previous year. It is the fifth consecutive annual increase and the highest level since comparable records began in 2012-13.
The data showed an 11% rise in the most serious “tipper lorry load” incidents, with household waste accounting for most of them. Almost a third were the size of a small van-load, with 27% roughly equivalent to a car boot. Clearing this waste cost local authorities in England £19.3m.
But the figures do not tell the whole story: they only cover dumping on public land – most incidents happen on private land – and they do not cover the large-scale cases handled by the Environment Agency.
Groups of Wombles are increasingly, as the iconic song almost said, common; across England, volunteer groups have proliferated, with many posting daily videos of themselves clearing laybys, alleyways and verges.
There is no single cause for the rise. Josie Appleton, the director of the Campaign for Freedom in Everyday Life, said that although the government had abolished charges for disposing of DIY waste at household-waste recycling centres in England, other fees could still apply.
Some sites, she said, operated booking systems, limited opening hours or put restrictive access on vans. “This all discourages lawful use and creates opportunities for illegal dumpers,” she said.
Appleton also cited wider systemic pressures: cuts to council budgets can reduce enforcement and street-cleaning capacity, while increasingly complex rules about how waste must be sorted can make compliance harder.
Environmental and enforcement bodies consistently identify rogue waste operators as a major driver. In response, ministers have announced tougher measures, including the crushing of vehicles used for fly-tipping.
For farmers, who shoulder the cost when waste is dumped on private land, the measures cannot come quickly enough. Rachel Hallos, the vice-president of the National Farmers’ Union, said: “Organised, criminal fly-tipping remains a relentless and costly blight on our countryside.”
Research confirms that many offenders are never identified, and far fewer are convicted. While councils in England carried out 572,000 enforcement actions in 2024-25, up 8% on the previous year, court prosecutions fell by about 9% to roughly 1,250 cases. The total value of court fines dropped from about £730,000 to £673,000.
For Yasmine El-Gabry, who transformed a fly-tipped alleyway behind her Manchester home into a planted communal space, the issue is as much cultural as criminal. It is the work, she said, of a “selfish minority” enabled by weak social norms.
She favours education over confrontation. “There’s enough in this world to pit communities against each other,” she said. “I’d rather talk to them, and show them the importance of keeping our communities clean.”
