But as days grew into weeks things changed and events gradually took a turn for the worse, for Cedric became increasingly zealous in his duties. Although Game Kid was becoming used to not being able to find things because they had been tidied away he was concerned about the way Cedric was beginning to boss him about. Barely would be have finished cooking than he would find himself shoved unceremoniously out of the kitchen with the words 'Cedric clean kitchen' ringing almost menacingly in his ears, and he would find himself woken at all hours of the night by Cedric attempting to make the bed.

"Fuck off Cedric," he would say.

"Cedric make bed!"

Not only would Cedric continue his ceaseless cleaning all night, but he had taken to doing so while listening to Radio 3. But the worst still was to come.

Game Kid got back one day from work to find all the shelves, drawers and cupboards in the house bare. Every ornament and every nik-nak, and every book and scrap of paper, bills and documents included, were gone. The flat was sparkling clean and polished as if it had been newly built, but everything that belonged in it was nowhere to be seen. And in the midst of this ordered sterility, his eight arms flailing wildly, was Cedric, bleating maniacally "Cedric clean home! Cedric clean home!"

Game Kid stood dumbly and stared as Cedric's bulbs turned to regard him and he backed away in horror as the robot began to advance menacingly towards him, its pincers clutching and snapping.

"Cedric clean home! Cedric clean home!"

He ran for the door, making for the stairs

He reached the street and kept running, and as he ran, he turned his head, stumbled slightly, and looked back up at the flat. Choral music blazed insanely loudly through its windows, visibly shaking the glass, and through them, just in the gloom beyond, he fancied he could make out the blur of a duster and the flash of malevolent blue eyes.