My Son, The Superhero

I don’t know what young people are about today, dressed up in lycra and masks. Looks a bit poofy if you ask me.

My son calls himself “The Green Dimension”.
“What’s wrong with Albert?”, I ask him.

“That’s my secret identity”, he says.

“I don’t know how you can be a superhero”, says his mum, “You don’t have a super power, you’ve never been very athletic, you were always being bullied at school and anyway, you’ll catch your death just going about in that skimpy outfit”.

“I’m fine mother”, says our son Albert, “And besides. You’ll see about the power”.

It all started when he was 18, when he and his friends used to congregate up in his room in their home made super costumes, read all them silly comics and listen to all that blaring super-rock rubbish made by more of them girly boys in funny costumes.

Then, one day, Albert tells us that he’s going on a march to the houses of parliament with all his superhero friends.

“You look more like you belong in a mardi gras parade in all those silly get ups”, I tell him, looking around at him and his friends, one of whom was actually wearing a Che Guevara outfit over a gorilla suit and calling himself guerilla gorilla.

But he wouldn’t listen. He was determined to embarrass himself in public and, the next thing you know, he was on TV with loads of other super types waving placards and shouting to change this and that.

“You see, mother”, he said, “I may not have any power but we’ve got power. The power of youth united behind a common cause”.

“Well. Just make sure you don’t run into Police-Man and his mighty truncheon”, said his mother, zipping up his furry jacket and tightening his scarf, “Some of those demonstrations can turn very nasty”.

But she knew that our son wasn’t the type to get into trouble with the law.

Anyway, to cut a long story short. They got the changes that they were marching for, my son and his super loony friends.

So now I’m starting to wonder if perhaps there might be something to this superhero lark, and now that they’re planning on closing down the factory that I work at and my jobs in danger, I think that maybe I could get the wife to run me up a superhero costume. I might call myself “The Grey Panther”, what do you think?