SuperMa

I am seriously contemplating becoming a superhero.
I’d be SuperMA – fighting for the contentment of parents, travelling the world righting really annoying wrongs.
Now in doing this I’m not going to tackle the real heavy stuff like saving lives and rescuing people from burning buildings. I’ll leave that up to the big guns like Superman and Spiderman. No, I’m going to tackle things like illegal parking in mother and baby spots and grumpy people who tutt and glare at crying babies.
Now obviously I have no superhuman powers so I’ll have to improvise.
First off a quick trip to B&Q where I shall purchase some laser eyes to allow me to sear deep grooves in the front bonnet of BMWs whose childless drivers insist of parking in the mother and baby spots. I nice big SMA (my trademark logo – SuperMA gettit?) lasered into their shiny paintwork might make them think twice about being so inconsiderate.
I shall leave a note, which will read something like this… “This is to inform you that mother and baby spots are strictly for harassed mas who often have to carry two kids and restrain another while pushing a trolley, negotiating car park traffic and rummaging about in their pockets looking for pound coins, bank cards and car keys.
“They have extra room at both sides – not, as you probably imagine, for the extra body width of fat, lazy mas who couldn’t be bothered to walk the extra distance to the entrance – but to allow parents ample room to do the backbreaking, often acrobatic act of getting a baby out of a baby seat.
“Thanks for your attention on this matter. Apologies for scrawling this longer than actually necessary note into your exterior paintwork, I ran out of paper. Thanks!! Signed SMA”
In my capacity as SMA I shall also be scouring the country wreaking vengeance on ice cream men. For as lovely as ice cream from a van is when you’re a small child, when you’re a parent it’s a whole different kettle of fish. Now I’m not casting aspersions but my inbuilt neurosis prevents me from accepting that hygiene is a level five priority for these guys. Then there’s the ‘music’ or the tinny bell sound blasting out of speakers loud enough to hear from five streets away. That’s an awful long time to have to listen to the tubular bell version of the A-Team theme tune and children whining about ice cream. Ice Cream men are going down, I’m coming for you Mr Whippy!
In a totally non-violent, more finger wagging way I shall also be targeting dog owners who let their pooches use the pavement as a toilet – the offending article shall be propelled at their living room windows – boy racers, smokers and wasps.
I shall leave no stone unturned in the hunt for people who really annoy me. Should you require assistance look out for me, I shall be wearing a colourful uniform fashioned from old curtains – for SMA also champions thriftiness – with a belt tooled up with baby bottles, laser guns and Calpol.