Much as I'd like to take the credit for what follows, it goes without saying that everything to do with the film Flushed Away including all characters and settings is nothing to do with me and is entirely the work of the tireless trailblazers at DreamWorks and Aardman studios. I am also in debt to the kind readers of earlier pieces and I can only hope that this does not disappoint.

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"If I have to shake one more hand," muttered Roddy St. James, darkly. "I think mine is going to fall off."

"You think you've got problems," said Rita Malone, taking his wrist and massaging his palm with her thumb. "At least people only want to shake hands with the Hero of Ratropolis. How do you think I feel? All people want to do with me is have a photograph taken giving me a kiss."

"You don't complain about that when it's me," said Roddy, grinning. "Although I'm not one for photography, by and large."

Rita looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "All right, next time you can wear a red wig, I'll wear a brown one and we can trade places. Okay?"

"I'd need a bit more than a red wig to be you, wouldn't I?" said Roddy, winking.

Rita stepped back and looked him up and down critically. "Good point," she said. "You'd need some poise and charm to go with it."

"Not to mention a scathing wit," said Roddy. He sighed and straightened his collar. "Why did we agree to help your father with all of this anyway?"

'All of this' referred to Mr Malone's latest preoccupation. Ratropolis was in mayoral election mode and every vertical object in every street was plastered with candidate posters, including one or two pedestrians who hadn't been moving fast enough to get away with it. Roddy and Rita were standing behind a makeshift stage on which Mr Malone was giving his usual speech. They'd both heard it so often over the last weeks that they could almost recite it by heart.

"Nobody knows this city better than a Malone," he was saying. "Nobody has a greater stake in the future of our community than I do. Certainly my opponent doesn't- he's never had a stake in anything that doesn't involve tablecloths."

There was general applause and cheering. Mr Malone waited for it to subside before he delivered what had become the unwritten motto of the Malone campaign. Roddy and Rita mouthed the words absent-mindedly.

"You know what the difference is between Bert Stough and the Toad? The Toad didn't have a tail." The crowd showed its appreciation again while Rita rolled her eyes.

Turning around, she called across to what passed for the brains behind her father's campaign. The Chief Political Adviser was loitering beside the steps leading onto the stage. Technically he was just standing there, but the Chief Political Adviser was the sort of person who could loiter on the run.

"Hey! How many more of these have we got today?" she asked him.

Sid sauntered over to the couple casually. "Keep it down, would you?" he said. "We're trying to give a performance you know."

"Well, excuse me, Mr Lloyd-Webber," said Rita. "How many more?"

Sid grinned. He had squeezed his ample frame into a cheap pinstripe suit which was already starting to fray at the shoulders. His tie was a patchwork of coffee stains and he was wearing a pair of wraparound sunglasses of the sort favoured by certain tennis players. Being recruited as Mr Malone's adviser had been something of a windfall for him.

"Just this one, Rita, don't fret. We don't want to wear the two of you out, after all. You know what's at stake in this election."

That much was certainly true. Years of de facto governance by the Toad and his gang had come close to eviscerating what passed for Ratropolis' political community as anyone who disagreed with the green gangster had shown a proclivity to disappear without warning. After the Toad's defeat at the World Cup, most of the dissenters had been found in the deathly chill of the Ice Maker. It was in this climate that Bert Stough had been able to rise to the top of the pile. Some might have taken that as a sign of ability, but every sewer-dweller knows that the things that float on top are not always the most pleasant. It had never been proven that Stough had any connections to the Toad but it was widely suspected, a perception not helped by Stough's insistence that the Mayoral Office be moved into the Floodgate Control Tower once the police had finished with it.

"It's been rumoured that Bert Stough has repaired the Ice Maker," Mr Malone told the audience. "I wonder if he means to give me a warm reception when I beat him?"

"Did you write these jokes, Sid?" Roddy asked.

Sid shook his head. "What jokes?"

"Exactly," said Roddy.

"Anyway," Mr Malone held up his hand for silence. "A warm reception is always a good thing. And right now I'd like you to join me in giving a very warm reception to two people who need no introduction..."

"Have you noticed that he always says that we need no introduction just before he introduces us?" said Roddy, wearily joining Rita at the steps.

"Have you noticed the way you always say that whenever he says that?" said Rita. It came off as harsh and she took Roddy's hand to show that she hadn't meant it. Campaigning was turning out to be like running on a wheel- a lot of effort, but you end up in the same place you started.

"It's thanks to these two that I'm able to stand here and talk to you today," said Mr Malone. "It's thanks to these two that we're here at all! Without fruther ado- my daughter, Rita, and my good friend Roddy St. James!" He extended a hand to the steps as the crowd cheered. Taking their cue, Roddy and Rita appeared on stage arm-in-arm, waving and smiling. It was quite a good crowd today, although Roddy had the feeling that there was a chandful of people who turned up to everything. He was sure that he could recognise more than a few faces, even as he tried not to blink in the fusillade of flashbulb photography. The stage was in the middle of Ratropolis' main square, by the fountain Roddy had seen when he first fetched up there. Mr Malone stood aside from the microphone as they joined him.

"Er...hello," said Roddy. There were cheers and even a few whistles.

"It's...er...a real pleasure to be here," he went on. "It's a pleasure to be able to support...the best candidate for the job. Yes. And...I'm sure he'll do us all proud when we vote him into office." He grinned desperately and wished that he was better in front of an audience. He handed the microphone to Rita, who was a born performer.

"Thanks, Roddy," she said, smiling brightly. "If I could just make a few brief remarks...I'd be much better at speaking in public!"

Someone laughed so loud that it caused feedback in the microphone. Roddy suspected that it was Grandmother Malone, who was generally at these things in the absence of anything else to do.

"Look, you all know me, you all know my old man," said Rita. "You also know Bert Stough. So who's it going to be?"

She put her arm around her father and they both waved as the crowd clapped. Roddy joined them and tried to look happy.

"That was great!" Sid was exuberant as the trio left the stage. "Dynamite stuff, boss! You two weren't bad either," he added to Roddy and Rita. "A few more like that and we'll have this in the bag!" He draped an arm around Mr Malone's shoulder and led him back to where the Jammy Dodger I floated by the path. An extensive repair and repainting session had brought the old derelict back to life and it was now decked out in election rig, with signs and posters on every flat surface. Roddy and Rita followed slowly.

"Why did your father hire Sid anyway?" asked Roddy. "Sid, and I say this with all due respect, is an unprincipled, low-life opportunist who wouldn't recognise honesty if it was pushed so hard into his ears that it came out his nose."

"Yes?" said Rita.

"Well, this is politics, isn't it? What do those characteristics have to do with...oh...right." Roddy trailed off as he saw Rita nodding.

"The penny drops at last," she said sagely.

"You mean he got the job because he has no redeeming features as a person?" Roddy shook his head. "I swear I wasn't cut out for this, Rita. I'd rather fight the Toad again than fight another election."

"We basically are," said Rita.

"Putting aside the campaign rhetoric about Stough," said Roddy wearily. "This is just a matter of personalities, right?"

Rita looked sideways and shook her head. "No, Roddy, it's not. Especially not for us. It was all before your time but...oh, never mind. You'll find out eventually. Let's just say that Bert Stough is going to be stuffed and mounted on our wall by the end of this, and that's not half of what he deserves."

Roddy stared in surprise. Rita was the most determined person he had ever met, but by the end of that sentence her tone had contained enough steel to sink a battleship. There was obviously something else in this, but Roddy knew better than to press Rita on something when she began talking like that. Being stuffed and mounted would seem comparatively merciful. They boarded the Jammy Dodger I and helped cast off. Mr Malone began steering the boat into the current.

"Thanks for that, Rita," he said. "I know you hate those things but that's the only way to win this."

"I don't mind them, dad," said Rita. "I can't speak for Roddy, of course."

Roddy waved his hands. "No, no! I'm fine as well. Happy to help."

"I appreciate it, son," said Mr Malone. "I can't win this without you two.

And we have got to win this. Sid, what's the Deputy Mayor-to-be doing today?"

Sid consulted a clipboard. "I, er...I'm trying to keep him out of the spotlight, sir. It's...um, not big enough for all three of you." He coughed. Roddy rolled his eyes. Stough's reputation had ensured a very limited field of opposition candidates and it had taken Mr Malone some time to find a running mate. It had been said that only a crazy person would get into the ring with Stough, and Mr Malone had found one. Harold the Prophet had been at a loose end after the World Cup, when his long-held conviction that the city would be destroyed by flood had been overturned by Roddy and Rita. As a running mate and possible Deputy Mayor, he left much to be desired.

"Good," said Mr Malone, who was aware of that but didn't want to say so even when Harold wasn't anywhere near them.

"Look on the bright side," said Sid. "He's better than Stough's running mate." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his clipboard and held it up. It was a rather bad picture of Thimblenose Ted, face frozen into a grotesque attempt at a friendly grin. His campaign slogan (VOTE 1 FOR TED- HE (K)NOSE) was emblazoned across the bottom in a monument to both bad puns and illiteracy.

"Barely," said Rita. "At least you convinced him not to wear bread any longer."

"I do my bit for fashion," said Sid, smoothing a greasy lapel.

Mr Malone turned them into a back canal. The Jammy Dodger II was waiting for them, tied up at the back of a shop. Mr Malone steered alongside and allowed Roddy and Rita to cross onto the newer vessel. The deck was laden down with coils of wire and small lightbulbs in boxes.

"See you back at the house!" called Mr Malone. "And be careful! That stuff cost a lot of money and we're going to need it!"

Rita started up the motor as Roddy tried to clear a space on the deck. He gave up and joined her in the cockpit as she brought the boat around and began following the Jammy Dodger I back into the main channels.

"Your father never struck me as the political type," commented Roddy. "Or you, for that matter."

"What do you mean, or me for that matter?" Rita straightened the boat up and steered it towards the raising bridge that was the centrepiece of Ratropolis' street system.

"Well, you're a natural on the stage. You're really giving your all to beat the Stough campaign. Not that I'm surprised, of course."

Rita's eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you said you didn't know about that?"

Roddy looked at her blankly. "Well...you're not the sort of person who does things by half, Rita. You put your heart into everything you do. Why, what did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant...the thing with Stough...never mind. Don't worry."

Rita shook her head and looked up as the bridge passed overhead. Roddy watched her carefully and wondered what nerve he'd touched there.

"Keep a sharp lookout," said Rita. "We're not out of the city yet."

Roddy looked around. "Well? There's nothing here. What are you worried about, sabotage?"

"I wouldn't put anything past Stough," said Rita. "Why do you think we're not bringing this stuff back in the old Dodger?"

"Because there's not enough room?" hazarded Roddy. "Don't you think that's all a bit paranoid? I mean, Stough might not be a nice guy and he might have one of the Toad's henchrats as his running mate, but you can't seriously think he'd stoop that low, do you?"

"From where Stough is right now, Roddy, he'd have to stand up to commit sabotage." Rita scanned a side canal as it joined the main waterway.

"See, this is something else I don't get. You and your dad act like this is a war. If it's so dangerous why did you even let him run? He wouldn't have done it if you hadn't let him. Even your mother only supports him on principle." Roddy tried to take Rita's hand but she moved it to adjust a control. Roddy felt the ambient temperature fall several degrees and decided that continuing on the topic was a bad move. Whatever history the Malones had with Stough would have to remain a mystery for now.

They pulled alongside the pier outside the family home. Rita looked around but couldn't see her father.

"Where are they?" she muttered. "They were ahead of us. They should have got here first."

"They probably went to pick up Harold," said Roddy, heaving a coil of wire onto his shoulder. "Stop fretting, will you? Your old man and Sid survived the salvage of that boat. They're not about to go down with it."

Rita remembered the near-disaster that had been the salvage of the Jammy Dodger from the Hyde Park Treatment Plant. Roddy was right. Of course he was. She nodded and picked up a box of lightbulbs.

"What are all these for anyway?" Roddy dumped the wire onto the pier and turned to take the box from Rita.

"They're for dad's big sign," said Rita. She pointed to a large wooden framework which was resting against the front of the house. It was just possible, with a bit of imagination, to read the word MALONE in the haphazardly-assembled timbers. "He thinks an illuminated sign will be a big asset."

"It's a big something all right," said Roddy. He grinned hopefully at Rita and saw that she wasn't even smiling.

"That was a joke, Rita," he said mildly. "Just trying to lighten the load."

Rita scratched her head. "Was that a joke too? 'Lighten the load' after I talked about an illuminated sign?"

"No, it wasn't a joke. I don't do puns. I tried once, though, I had a list of them but they didn't make anyone laugh. No pun in ten did." Roddy grinned again and raised his eyebrows. "You see what I did there with the end of that? Because 'No pun in ten did' sounds like-"

"I got it, Roddy," said Rita, shaking her head and trying not to laugh.

"All right, I'll give you that one. Come on, let's get the rest of this stuff ashore." She picked up another box and passed it up. Roddy stacked it neatly and looked up as the sound of engines approached. The Jammy Dodger I was nearing the pier and drew up smoothly beside its successor. Sid and Harold jumped onto the deck while Mr Malone tied it up.

"Hello, Harold," said Roddy. The ex-prophet of doom nodded.

"That for the sign?"

"Yep," said Rita, picking up the last coil of wire. "We should be able to finish it tonight."

Harold regarded the components critically. "Are you sure this is a good idea? That thing'll use a lot of power and the circuit might not be able to take it."

"You're always thinking about what could go wrong, Harold," said Sid, slapping him on the back and steering him towards the house.

"Well, I used to make a living out of it," said Harold. Liam Malone opened the door and saw the group.

"Mum!" he shouted. "They're back! They've got the stuff!"

There was a blur as Shocky darted between his legs and fell upon the electrical components joyfully.

"Oh, wow! Real copper! LED lights! This is fantastic!"

Mr Malone picked his son up chuckling. "All right, son, all right, there'll be time for that later. Meanwhile, we'd better get us inside and some food inside us! How's that sound?"

Roddy swabbed the plate with the towel and put it away, closing the cupboard after it. He was helping Mrs Malone with the dishes as the rest of the family had migrated outside to watch or help with the assembly of the illuminated sign. The sound of hammering came through the walls and made ripples in the water in the sink.

"I appreciate your help, Roddy," said Mrs Malone. "You're invaluable to my husband, you know. Not to mention how much you mean to Rita."

"Thanks," said Roddy. "You know I'd help even if I wasn't. They're both so keen on this election."

"I'm not surprised. He's been looking for things to keep him busy since he retired. I told him that wasn't the point, but he can't abide doing nothing. He loves this city and he wants to make it better." She smiled. "He likes fixing things. Boats, houses...cities. And Rita's the same, you know that. She's always been her father's daughter."

"Right," said Roddy, with feeling.

"And then there's what happened between us and Stough," said Mrs Malone casually. "No, dear, they go in the drawer. Just there. That's right."

Roddy put the cutlery away and raised an eyebrow. "So there is some history there? Rita suggested that there was but she got a little...edgy whenever I tried to find out about it. Should I ask Mr Malone?"

"Oh, no, dear, he'd be twice as bad," Mrs Malone shook her head. "It's terrible sad, really, what a grudge can do to a person. My husband is a good man and there's not many people you could say that he really hates. But Bert Stough is one of them."

"And Rita?"

"Oh, Rita's too young to have been there for a lot of it," said Mrs Malone, dunking a bowl in the water and pausing to adjust her hair. "But she was there for enough of it and of course her father told her most of the rest."

"The rest of what?" asked Roddy. Mrs Malone gave a sad sigh and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by an electrical buzzing. The lights dimmed and there were exuberant yells from outside.

"Sounds like they've done it," said Mrs Malone. She left the kitchen, leaving Roddy to wonder exactly what she had been about to reveal. He followed her out to the front, where the sign was blazing in all the colours of the rainbow. Mr Malone had a triumphant Shocky on his shoulders.

"We did it!" he shouted. "Isn't that something? Eh?"

"It's very nice, dear," said Mrs Malone, taking Shocky down and kissing her husband on the cheek. Roddy smiled at Rita, who dropped down from the side of the sign, wiping her hands on her trousers.

"Not bad," he said. Rita smiled back and put her arm around him.

"Is that all you've got to say?"

Roddy grinned. "For now."

Rita laughed. "Everyone's a critic. All right, turn it off. We've proved it works and we don't want to blow out the power bill."

Shocky saluted and disconnected the cable he had plugged into the sign.

The lights went out and the house brightened as the internal ones started drawing power again.

"I can't wait to see Stough and Ted's faces when they see this," chuckled

Mr Malone. "Sid, I want to use this at the next rally."

"No, problem, chief!" The Chief Political Adviser pulled out his clipboard and extracted a pencil from behind his ears.

"Shouldn't you take them sunglasses off?" said Mr Malone, watching him with an amused air. Sid was still wearing his wraparounds. "It's a bit dark for that now, isn't it?"

"I'm fine," said Sid, writing something on his clipboard. "Now, if someone could just point me in the direction of the house..."

Sniggering, Liam tapped Sid on the shoulder. "It's that way, pal," he said, pointing out across the water.

"Thanks, kiddo." Sid put the clipboard away and stepped confidently off the pier.

"Liam!" Mrs Malone tried to look severe, but couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

"He likes to make a big splash, mum," said Liam, who was grinning like a piranha.

"You're not the only one who likes puns, Roddy," said Rita, nudging him. "I think we'll call it a night."

The crowd was buzzing with anticipation as a work gang moved the sign into position behind the stage. Nobody had ever seen anything quite this grandiose before. Shocky was hovering around the sign, hopping nervously from one foot to the other. Roddy and Rita watched him check the power coupling for the ninth time.

"I said to be careful," said Harold. "That's not the right coupling, I'm sure of it. If we cause an overload it could result in a citywide power failure. The electrics down here are held together by scotch tape and baling wire."

"They have baling wire?" asked Roddy, somewhat surprised.

"Any comments about the possibility of a power failure, then?" said someone in a pleasant Irish accent.

Roddy looked around. It was Adele Scoop, the appropriately-named political correspondent of the Ratropolitan, the city's leading broadsheet.

"Um, no," said Roddy, cutting off Harold before he could say anything else.

"You sure?" said Adele coyly, pencil poised delicately above her notebook.

"Yes," said Rita firmly, taking Roddy's arm, "Now hurry up, Scoop, or you'll miss the show."

"Like I haven't heard him give the stump speech a dozen times already," said Adele dismissively.

"You'll want to see this time," said Rita, pointing to the sign. "This one will be different and we want all the nice voters to read about it in our city's most trusted paper, which we cannot live without. So push off."

Adele shrugged, tipped her hat to Roddy, and wandered around the front of the stage as Mr Malone began his speech.

"You can let go now," said Roddy, grinning. "You're really very protective of me around her."

"Have you seen the way she looks at you? She thinks you're going to be the big inside story of her career. And then some." Rita winked at Roddy cheerfully. "I can't imagine why."

"This from the person who was yesterday complaining about every male in Ratropolis wanting a picture taken with her?" Roddy put his arm around her waist. "A week really is a long time in politics."

"It's only been a day, hasn't it?" said Rita.

"Precisely."

Mr Malone was getting into his speech now. "We're going to open politics up in this city! We're going to make it a better place! We're going...to turn the lights on again!" He pointed to the sign. Shocky took his cue, and threw the switch. The sign blazed on, and the crowd applauded appreciatively. Roddy and Rita joined in while Harold eyed the power coupling nervously.

"Should it...be doing that?" he said, pointing.

Rita looked and gasped. Smoke was pouring out of the coupling. The plastic insulation melted, exposing bare metal. Shocky panicked and made a dive for cover as blue flashes played across the sign, exploding the bulbs in succession and raining hot glass shrapnel down over the stage causing Mr Malone to duck under the lectern as the crowd yelled in shock. Rita started towards the coupling but was pulled back by Roddy.

"Don't! It's too dangerous!"

"We've got to stop it before it does any more damage!" shouted Rita, struggling against him. Harold pinned her down and the three of them watched in horror as the coupling finally gave way with a bang. The lights went out- not the lights on the sign, which were already gone, but the lights of the city as well, shorting out in sympathy as the current fluctuated violently. In the darkness, nobody spoke. The molten coupling glowed a dull, blood red.

"Oh dear..." muttered Roddy. He felt someone moving beside him and looked around, nearly getting a pencil in the eye.

"You were right that I didn't want to miss it this time, Rita," said Adele, grinning cheerfully. "So tell me…now do you have any comments about the possibility of a power failure?"