Stressed. Emergency situation. Needed a new hoover. Couldn’t afford a brand new one. Thought I’d search on eBay.
Then a man knocked on my door.
“Looking for a vacuum cleaner by any chance, sir?”
“Yeah. How do you know?”
“I work for GCHQ, Project Prism. I know everything. I know you’ve just moved into this flat. I know the previous tenants were here for thirteen years and left a right tip. I know you want a cheap machine that’ll do a good job- and I’ve got just the one for you.”
Now, I don’t usually entertain intrusive government agents- but I was desperate.
I took the hoover and got to work. He told me it would pick up all dust, debris, crumbs and cobwebs within a flash. Have everything back to normal. In no time, show time!
But it was like a wild pitbull off its leash.
It sucked up every last thing: my furniture, my electricals, food in my cupboards (although in return it spat out some food bank vouchers).
Sucked up savings in my shoebox, my mother’s wheelchair; sucked up books I needed for studying at university- now to replace them it will cost me thrice as much.
with a bag. It used some wizard like technology which magically sent everything it sucked into the vaults of the world’s investment banks.
I looked in the box for th
Sucked up the medicine for my chronic condition, even my Polish wife’s passport and the doctor’s note which signed me off work; then it started revving its greedy arse up and down the streets of the country sucking up all social housing. Even threatened to suck up the mosques I pray in and the Islamic school my brother studies at.
I tried to open up the bag, get all my stuff back out. But the hoover never came
e instruction manual to see what the wizardry was. It was printed in capital letters: NEO-LIBERALISM. There was a little hand written note on a post-it on the back of the manual. It simply said: You’ve been RBSd: Royally Bitch Slapped!
I used a hammer to smash the hoover to pieces. No manufacturer, whatever the colour of their brand, be it red, yellow or purple, should get away with making such a hoover again.
It wasn’t just any old hammer I picked up. Though it had no branding, etched in small letters on the left side were the words: Made in Solidarity.
Now, every night before I sleep I ask myself- what will win the soul of the land: hoovers or hammers?
Hamish Kamoshi © 2015
