Germicidal Maniacs

It's been a horrid few months at Axis Towers. The little boys have both had a selection of illnesses, which has involved much wiping, scrubbing and cursing on my part. All three of us are now resigned to spending Christmas with our senses muted thanks to congestion in the head. I'm not sure, however, that either of the Axis had much else there in the first place.

Yesterday was my birthday, and the Axis' father kindly volunteered to take them for the day so I could have lunch with my friends. How nice of him, I thought. What I didn't realise was that he was going out on the lash the night before, so it was really just a way of him taking a day off work and making himself look good. Thus he turned up two hours late and I was hopping mad, having received the only kind of present the Kong knows how to produce and not liking it one iota.

The Pie had been asking for cough syrup. Admittedly, he did have a rather persistent cough, so I succumbed. Unfortunately it made him instantly vomit up his breakfast. Cursing and swearing, I cleaned him, and it, up, and then made him a nice cup of hot Ribena while attempting to stop his brother from wading through the mess and redecorating the house with it. Towards the end of this episode, my brother rang up. My brother is young, single and childless, and is very proud of his very lovely and tidy flat. Rather unfortunately for him, he is also very devoted to his two hideous nephews, which puts him in agonising quandaries as he watches them lay waste mercilessly to everything in sight. I explained their latest outrage to him on the phone and could almost hear him wince and grimace.


'Your house sounds a bit...' he sounded nervous.
'What?'
'Well...(longish pause) gross.'


He's right, I thought. It is gross. And has a swamplike quality to it. The laundry has been mounting for months, and even though I do about three loads a day, the Axis manage to keep the pile growing with their emissions. The kitchen has absolutely no worktop space so constantly looks like a bomb's hit it. And the living room looks like a giant softplay after a weekend of kids' parties. And then there's the noise; the constant, relentless moaning (which is me) and the Axis' unremitting demands for drink! telly! food! Mummeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!


'It's not that bad,' I say, wondering if he can hear the desperation in my voice. 'I mean, I have people round.' Hmm, yes, but only when the Axis have been at nursery and I've taken the day off to disinfect the place. Just then the Kong lurched into sight, grinned at me, turned puce and...

'What the hell was that?' asked my brother, sounding suspicious.
'Um...what?' I said, as innocently as I could manage.
'That...squelching noise. What was it?'
'Nothing!' I trilled. 'Gotta go -byeeee!'

A pox on that vile Kong! All the scrubbing in the world wouldn't sort this out. I rang my neighbour and asked her if I could borrow the magic carpet steam cleaner machine thingy. She brought it round and, while she was comforting the poorly Axis (for whom illness seems to be no barrier to consuming junk food and scaling the bookcases) I attempted to shampoo the carpet. Something had gone badly wrong with the magic carpet steam cleaner machine thingy, however, and the room was soon filled with the smell of week-old chicken gravy.

'Phoooooooar,' said the Pie, wafting the air in front of his face and screwing his nose up in camp disgust. 'Mummy, that stinks.' I rolled the rug up and shoved it behind the bins down the side of the house where it will stay til I can take it, and the five broken tellies in the garage, to the tip. After that I spent half an hour sat in the kitchen eating crisps and wondering how long I could hide from the Axis. I'm going to take myself to the tip if this doesn't stop soon.