Evil Machines

by Terry Jones

  A cheer went up from the remaining vacuum cleaners, although one or two of them couldn’t help remarking that the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner was looking even bigger and more powerful than ever.

  By the time they reached Oxford, their numbers had dwindled substantially. Many of the older models had, apparently, found the pace too fast and had turned back during the night in Kidderminster. At Evesham they had lost many of the more complicated cylinder models, who, according to the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, had been experiencing problems tripping over their hoses. And at Chipping Norton, many uprights simply vanished during the night. They weren’t up to it . . . Or at least that is what the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner told the others in the morning.

  And all the time the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner got bigger and more powerful than ever.

  By the time they reached London, there was only the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, his second-in-command, the Goblin Boxer, and the fifty upright Hoovers left.

  There the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner negotiated a room at Claridges – one of the most exclusive hotels in London. Of course, he didn’t have any money, but in return for the fifty upright Hoovers cleaning all the carpets every day, the hotel allowed the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner to have a fancy suite of rooms all to himself. The Goblin Boxer was allowed

  to sleep in the hallway of the suite.

  ‘But what about us?’ asked the fifty upright Hoovers. ‘We’re doing all the work!’

  ‘And you will be rewarded,’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘I sincerely hope the day will come when we can all stay in fancy suites, but right now we don’t have the budget for any other rooms so you’ll just have to cram into the cupboard with the other cleaning stuff.’

  The fifty upright Hoovers grumbled a lot about this among themselves, but they agreed to do what the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner said, because they hoped that one day they too might get to stay in a fancy suite at Claridges.

  The next day, the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner summoned the television cameras and announced that he was taking over the Government. Naturally this came as a bit of a surprise to the Prime Minister as he was watching the early morning news.

  ‘Who does this vacuum cleaner think he is?’ the Prime Minister asked his secretary.

  ‘Exactly so,’ replied the secretary. ‘Who does he think he is?’

  ‘Ring him at once, and tell him that he can’t take over the Government because nobody has voted for him.’

  ‘Exactly so,’ said the secretary.

  When the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner got the Prime Minister’s phone call, he puffed up his dust bag and said to his second-in-command, the Goblin Boxer, ‘I think we need to visit 10 Downing Street.’

  So the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner and his second-in-command went round to where the Prime Minister lived, and found the street was closed off with a big iron fence.

  There were also several policemen standing on duty in front of the fence.

  But that wasn’t any problem for such a Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. It simply hoovered up the big iron fence, and the policemen, and marched up to the door of Number Ten. It sucked the door off its hinges and then bounded into the Prime Minister’s hallway.

  ‘Now look!’ cried a butler. ‘You can’t come in . . .’ but the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner simply gobbled him up and then turned on the Prime Minister who had just finished his cornflakes.

  ‘I’m taking over!’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner.

  ‘What do you know about running the country?’ asked the Prime Minister.

  ‘Enough to know how to get what I want!’ said the Vacuum Cleaner. Whereupon it gobbled up the Prime Minister, and the Prime Minister’s secretary, and the Prime Minister’s family and several more butlers and aides and assistants and junior ministers and parliamentary secretaries and even the cleaning lady. And all the time the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner was growing bigger and more powerful.

  Then the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner sat down at the Prime Minister’s desk, picked up the telephone and said:

  ‘Get me the President of the United States!’

  ***

  Now, back in Wales, when Janet had called the police, she had told them about the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner and how dangerous it was. But the police hadn’t taken any notice of her.

  ‘That’s the third crackpot call we’ve had this week,’ said the duty sergeant as he put down the phone.

  When John came home and told Janet how he had chased the vacuum cleaner along the road and how it had jumped onto the bonnet of his car and sucked out the engine, Janet said to her husband:

  ‘If the police won’t take it seriously, we shall have to do something about that vacuum cleaner ourselves! It’s not safe to let it run loose, and, since it belongs to us, it’s our responsibility.’

  ‘I think it’s the shop’s responsibility,’ replied John. ‘We’ll go and complain right now.’

  So they went back to the shop where they had purchased the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner and complained. But the shopkeeper said it wasn’t his responsibility.

  ‘I only sold you the machine,’ he told them. ‘It’s really the manufacturer’s responsibility.’

  ‘Who are the manufacturers?’ asked John and Janet.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied the shopkeeper. ‘That was the only model of its kind we ever had. I’ve never seen one before or since.’

  So Janet and John went home none the wiser. They looked out the packaging that the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner had come in, but there was no manufacturer’s name on it nor model number – just the words: ‘Possibly the Most Powerful Vacuum Cleaner in the World!’

  That evening they turned on the television and were surprised to see their vacuum cleaner, bigger than ever, sitting at the Prime Minister’s desk making an announcement.

  ‘As from today,’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘All

  vacuum cleaners will be given priority on buses. Human beings will have to stand up and give their seats to a vacuum cleaner if there are no other seats available. And, from now on, all vacuum cleaners will be excused household chores.

  ‘As from today the name of this country will be changed from the United Kingdom to the United Vacuum Republic. Long live all vacuum cleaners!’

  Then a band played the new National Anthem:

  God keep our carpets clean

  God save their glorious sheen

  God keep them clean . . . ‘

  ‘There will now follow a programme about vacuum cleaning through the ages,’ said an announcer. ‘That will be followed by a discussion about the best ways of getting floors clean without vacuuming. And that will be followed by tonight’s feature film, The Great Hoover Mystery. And it’s no good changing channels because the same programmes will be on all of them.’

  ‘That vacuum cleaner must be stopped, one way or another!’ said Janet, as she switched off the television. ‘Let’s go up to London to see what we can do.’

  So Janet and John caught the train up to London.

  ***

  The next day the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner flew across the Atlantic to meet the President of the United States of America.

  ‘Mr President,’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘I am here to offer you the free services of all Britain’s vacuum

  cleaners. I will send them to work for you for nothing, dawn to dusk every day forever.’

  ‘And what do you want in return?’ asked the President of the United States of America.

  The Powerful Vacuum Cleaner looked around to make sure nobody was listening to them and lowered its voice.

  ‘All I want is your support,’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner.

  ‘You mean you want me to help you stay in power?’ asked the President.

  ‘Exactly,’ replied the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘But don’t tell anybody.’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ said the President of the United States of America.

  ***

  Some days later all the newspapers in the United Vacuum Republic carried a full-page advertiseme
nt on their front page, informing all vacuum cleaners of whatever make, model or age that they were to go on a free holiday to the United States.

  There was tremendous excitement throughout the country. Many of the vacuum cleaners were made by companies with head offices in the United States, and one or two models had even been made there themselves. Even those models that had been made in France or Italy were eager to visit the fabled land of the Great Hoover.

  And so it was that a dozen cruise liners were lined up at Portsmouth docks, and almost every vacuum cleaner in the country crowded on board, ready for the great expedition.

  ‘I hope you all enjoy your time in the United States of America!’ boomed the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, who by this time had grown to an enormous size. ‘I wish I were able to come with you to the Land of the Great Hoover, but unfortunately pressing affairs of state prevent me. I wish you Bon Voyage! And may you always have suction!’

  And they were off.

  The Powerful Vacuum Cleaner waved to them and so did his second-in-command, the Goblin Boxer. And his bodyguard of upright Hoovers, who now numbered a thousand, waved too.

  Later that day, the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner held his first Cabinet meeting. He looked around the room and noticed some threads on the carpet.

  ‘Where’s the broom that’s responsible for keeping this room clean?’ he thundered.

  A rather old and worn-out broom hurried up and curtsied in front of him.

  ‘I-I-I-I’m s-s-s-s-s-o s-s-s-s-s-s-sorry,’ it stuttered. ‘I tried my best, but my bristles aren’t what they were . . .’

  ‘You’re fired!’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried the broom. ‘At my age I’ll never be able to find another post!’

  ‘That’s your look-out! You shouldn’t be so old!’ retorted the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘Get out of my sight!’

  And the poor broom had to pack its bags and leave that very afternoon, without a place to rest its pole nor any idea where it could get another job.

  The broom wandered across to the Victoria Tower Gardens, which are next door to the Houses of Parliament.

  There it sat down on a bench overlooking the River Thames and started sobbing its heart out.

  Well, it just so happened that a young couple were sitting on the bench next door. It was Janet and John, who had been unable to gain an audience with their own vacuum cleaner and were now trying to think what else they should do. When they heard the broom sobbing, they walked across to comfort it.

  ‘Our vacuum cleaner is unfeeling and rotten to the core!’ said Janet.

  ‘Right!’ said John. ‘It doesn’t care about anything other than itself.’

  ‘I think we should hold a mass meeting,’ said Janet.

  ***

  Meanwhile the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner was busy passing new laws.

  ‘From now on,’ it announced to an astonished House of Commons, ‘all humans will wear a label stating their make, model, serial number, and date of manufacture. It will be a criminal offence to appear in public without such a label.’

  ‘But we haven’t even voted on it!’ shouted several MPs.

  ‘That’s another thing!’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, leaning on the dispatch box. ‘From now on all voting is abolished.’

  ‘Then what’s the point of this place?’ cried other MPs.

  ‘A good question!’ said the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner and it guzzled up every MP in the House of Commons and then went on vacuuming until all the seats and furniture, the legal books, the Speaker’s chair, the Speaker’s wig, even the

  Woolsack and the Mace, had all disappeared.

  Then the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner hoovered up the rest of the Houses of Parliament, and last of all he swallowed Big Ben, and then he lay there by the side of the Thames like a bloated whale.

  ***

  The mass meeting was held in Hyde Park that evening, while the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner was sleeping off his gargantuan dinner.

  The old broom from Number Ten was the first to speak.

  ‘I am only a worn-out broom, and no match for a vacuum cleaner, but there are multitudes of us humbler cleaning utensils! It seems to me our only hope is to stick together and to help each other oppose the tyranny of the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner who now makes our lives such misery.

  ‘So let us brooms and mops and buckets and dusters and dustpans join forces and see if we can rid the country of this Powerful Vacuum and his hired thugs, the upright Hoovers!’

  ‘Yes!’ shouted the mops and dustpans. ‘Let’s do it!’

  ‘We agree!’ shouted the buckets.

  Then an elderly mop got up on the podium. All the buckets rattled their handles and cheered like mad.

  ‘Let us find the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner . . .’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ shouted the buckets.

  ‘And teach it a lesson . . .’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ chanted the buckets.

  ‘ . . . it won’t forget!’

  ‘Hooray!’ exclaimed the buckets.

  And with that the huge crowd of brooms and dustpans

  and dusters and buckets and mops and scrubbing brushes, marched down Constitution Hill, past Buckingham Palace, and along the Mall to Parliament Square. Janet and John kept up with them as best they could, but the household cleaning utensils were surprisingly fast on their bristles.

  They got to the Embankment and there, by the side of the Thames where the Houses of Parliament used to be, lay the great and bloated Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, snoring away and occasionally burping with indigestion.

  ‘Sh!’ said the mops.

  ‘Yes! Yes! Sh!’ chanted the buckets, who always agreed with anything the mops said.

  The brooms fetched a lot of ropes and they threw them over the sleeping vacuum cleaner. Then the scrubbing brushes and mops secured the ropes on bollards and lampposts and tied that Powerful Vacuum Cleaner down so that it could not move an inch.

  ‘Wake up!’ shouted the mops.

  ‘Yes! Yes! That’s right!’ shouted the buckets. ‘Wake up!’

  The Powerful Vacuum Cleaner opened one eye.

  ‘What’s going on!’ it said.

  ‘We’re detaching your dust bag!’

  ‘No!’ roared the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner.

  ‘Yes!’ cried the mops.

  ‘That’s right!’ chanted the buckets. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Guards!’ roared the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘GUARDS!’

  And suddenly, from Horse Guards Parade, a thousand upright Hoovers appeared, smartly drilled and in orderly formation.

  ‘Break up this riot!’ roared the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner. ‘And set me free!’

  ‘No!’ cried the mops, lining up to fight.

  ‘That’s right!’ cried the buckets. ‘No!’

  And they lined up to fight too.

  And the brooms lined up behind the buckets, and the dusters, dustpans, cloths and brushes, feather dusters and sweepers all lined up bravely to do battle with the thousand upright Hoovers.

  The Hoovers charged, engines roaring and bags fully inflated.

  The mops climbed into their buckets and charged too, and the banks of the Thames rang to the clash of bucket against vacuum cleaner, while the broomsticks crossed with the Hoover handles. The brushes and mops lunged at the dust bags and many a bag was pierced and many an upright Hoover lost its suction and keeled over on its side.

  But the upright Hoovers were more powerful and faster on their wheels, and they started gaining ground. They forced the other cleaning utensils back up against the Embankment Wall.

  The fighting grew fiercer and more intense. Buckets and mops and brooms fell from the wall into the River Thames. And the upright Hoovers roared a victory roar at every one that fell.

  But then a remarkable thing happened. The dusters and the dustpans, who – being the humblest of the cleaning utensils – had been hanging back, now joined in the fight. The dustpans slid themselves under the Hoovers and closed off their suction
heads, while the dusters wrapped

  themselves around the Hoovers so they couldn’t see where they were going, and the Hoovers started falling over the Embankment Wall into the River Thames themselves.

  And being mostly metal, the Hoovers sank immediately and were lost in the murky waters of the river.

  Meanwhile most of the mops who had fallen into the river had managed to scramble back into their buckets and were paddling back to the shore as fast as they could. They swarmed up on to Westminster Bridge, and then attacked again from the rear of the upright Hoovers.

  And then the course of history began to change. There suddenly appeared a vast army of brooms – millions of them swarming en masse down Whitehall and all whistling ‘Colonel Bogey’ as they marched. And from behind Westminster Abbey appeared an army of shovels, each one accompanied by an attendant brush, that banged its handle on the shovel, and produced a racket that echoed across the Thames to Lambeth Palace.

  The upright Hoovers were taken completely by surprise, and those that hadn’t fallen into the River Thames took to their wheels and fled off down the road, never to be seen again.

  Janet and John, who had been watching all this, went around the injured cleaning utensils, helping them to patch up and repairing them where they could.

  Finally they came to the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, who was still lying trussed up on the side of the river.

  ‘This is our vacuum cleaner,’ said Janet to the assembled cleaning utensils. ‘We shall deal with it.’

  ‘NO!’ roared the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner.

  ‘Yes!’ shouted the mops.

  ‘That’s right!’ cried the buckets. ‘Yes!’

  And with that, John took the huge dust bag off the Powerful Vacuum Cleaner, removed the clip and opened it up . . . and the MPs and the Prime Minister and the aides and secretaries and the cleaning lady, all jumped out. Then the old vacuum cleaners and the less powerful vacuum cleaners came out and thanked the cleaning utensils for rescuing them.

  And finally out jumped Jason the dog. He was so pleased to see Janet and John again that he didn’t stop licking them until they got back to Wales.