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
‘ . . . 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
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