Once upon a time (when we moved into this place and discovered that yes, we were going to have to live here for a while before the period known as the Great Refurbishment, and it was skanky), I discovered a substance, a restorative nothing short of miraculous. It smelt of the sort of chemicals that could dispose of the bodies and scrap metal, and would send lily-livered regulators running for the hills where'd they hide and cry like scaredy little boys. A no-nonsense kick in the gametangia for any outbreak of mould smaller than an overweight hippo. I went mental and demoulded a small county. Late at night, in mould circles, the still talk about dark time when their numbers were decimated and then decimated some more (to account for pedants who will be like but decimate means..., pedants whose bodies were never found).
Then I lost the bottle somewhere (it was so effective that it dissolved its own label), probably in the garage, but it's not come to light since. I figured the easiest option was to buy another bottle. But what was this magic decoction called? I have no idea. I've bought a half dozen different bottles and they're all just dilute bleach which, as you've discovered, doesn't work.
It smelt of some kind of long-chain alkanes and party aromatics. I need to find this stuff. It's awesome and the bottom of our shower
is starting to turn and there are some things that I won't put up with and that includes mould. This is, in part, the fault of Waitrose who took the good stuff out of their shower spray. I suspect I may end up getting a man (my wife always stresses a man) to replace, though our handyman is apparently fitting a kitchen somewhere. He can do the cooker element while he's here, another job I'm unlikely to get around to. I'm more of a theory kind of guy.