Kids Can Fly: Squeaky Clean

she was on TV every week or so, saying something strong and meaningful, like she always did when she got a chance.

One night, when I wanted to watch the cartoons. Dad switched channels to catch a bit of news. A graph showed that the Clean Party was only five points behind the main one. Mum was interviewed for a few seconds.

"Its time this county was cleaned up!" she said, "We have suffered for too long under the pollution of moral decadence. I speak for the majority when I say it is time for a change! The Clean Party will bring back the values we all know. These are the values we have in our hearts, and they are the best ones!"

"That's my wife," said Dad, who hardly ever saw her except when she was on TV, "Once she gets the bit between her teeth there's no stopping her!"

I had quite a few sleepless nights after that. I couldn't imagine a world without computer games. And surely Mum didn't expect everyone to read books! That was so old-fashioned. So antiquated. None of my friends ever bothered with them. It would have been different if books had "on' switches, but they didn't. They were always manual. You had to turn pages, and look at lines of print. How primitive.

And what else was Mum and her Clean Party planning to do? I shuddered to think about it.

The general elections were looming as Christmas rushed towards us. Mum stayed as busy as ever. She flew everywhere now, visiting us from time to time, to make sure there was enough food in the fridge, and clean clothes in the drawers. She had always been a good provider. She would come through the front door like she was on a power pills, smile, talk, pat our heads, kiss Dad, check the cupboards, drop some money on the table, give some orders and swish out again.

And the inevitable happened. The Clean Party won by a wide margin. The media called it a "landslide victory" but I preferred to call it a "mudslide into gloom and doom". It was like when you see a little mould on the bathroom wall. You know its not just a little mould. You know that, behind the little patch is a whole wall of mould, spreading and feeding on the wood.

Mum rang us and talked flat out for a while. She was now the country's most popular woman, and, naturally, she was in line for the top position.

Its time for a change!" she said. That was about the limit of her conversation sometimes - slogans and one-liners.