Christina Patterson: Making the most of motherhood

Yes, it's shameless. Get the kid out of the house (safely round the corner with someone you know), announce their disappearance and watch the money roll in. In fact, it's Shameless – the nation's favourite dysfunctional family after the Royals (and, indeed, the Royles).

It's a lot more expensive, obviously, but if you want to hit the mass market – and get beyond that Channel 4 niche – then you've got to make a bit of an effort. Get the police involved. Get the whole county – the whole country, in fact – on the case. What you want is a nice combination of micro and macro. Neighbours handing out leaflets. Press. Telly. Perhaps even some bookmarks like that cute little Maddy.

At the moment, we don't know whether Karen Matthews was implicated in the disappearance of her daughter, Shannon. We don't even know if she watched Shameless. And if she did, we don't know if she treated it as a source of handy tips along the lines of How Clean is Your House? or What Not to Wear. (We can be fairly sure, however, that she didn't watch the latter.)

But the fact that the police are now poring over Paul Abbott's hit series, specifically the episode in which feckless paterfamilias Frank Gallagher stages a fake kidnap of his youngest son, Liam, in an attempt to raise a £500,000 ransom, certainly raises it as a possibility. A possibility which, if nothing else, attests to the enduring power of drama.

There is, in fact, something slightly beguiling about the idea that the series hailed by the middle classes as a glorious portrayal of a world as alien, and surreal, as Star Wars or Dr Who should be perceived as a mere mirror of daily life – one that you might, in times of crisis, or cash shortfalls, use as a manual. Not necessarily one that would lead to fame or fortune, but certainly one that would offer a smorgasbord of suggestions on how to enhance your life using the limited resources at your command.

If the allegations in this more-gripping-even-than-The Apprentice case are true, then Karen Matthews, like Frank Gallagher, is certainly resourceful. And while single women across the country – and the Atlantic – agonise over their inability to bag a man, Karen, it seems, has an embarrassment of riches. The younger man who kissed for the cameras. The older man, it's alleged, in whose "divan drawer" poor Shannon was found. The four other fathers. And all without even a lick of lipstick!

And if they're true, she's certainly a good actress. That crumpled, puffy face. Those tearful pleas for a safe return. That grateful clasping of friends' and neighbours' hands. Give the woman an Oscar – or, at least, a part in The Bill.

If the allegations are true, however, then one thing is clear. This resourceful and apparently irresistible woman is a disastrous mother. She may well love her children – the four who live with her and the three who don't. She may well, in a vague kind of way, want the best for them. But whatever the bleeding hearts of the liberal press might say (of which I am clearly one), if you consistently put your own love life above your children's need for some kind of stability, and if your child would rather stay with the kitten police have bought her than return to what you currently call your home, then it's pretty clear that the love you feel is not enough.

In this peculiar culture, we pay thousands to have children at unnatural ages and then over-police them, or we breed like rabbits and let them roam free. If we don't, as the Chinese proverb states, live in interesting times at the moment, just give us a few years and we will.

Hero with the face of a hamster

Prime Ministers are usually hard-working, and often interesting – but they are rarely heroic. It's getting quite hard, however, not to use the word of the middle-aged, hamster-cheeked prime minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd. The Mandarin-speaking farmer's son from Queensland, a committed Christian whose visit to a lap-dancing club delighted the nation, is not only not tip-toeing on eggshells, he's grinding them to pieces.

Before his visit to the Queen on Monday, he reiterated his vow to make Australia a republic, and before arriving in Beijing yesterday he calmly called on China to address human rights abuses in Tibet. What a pleasant change from our own softly, softly catchee monkey/dragon/torch – and trade.

* Well, the Government should be proud of me. In the past fortnight I've acquired a whole new range of skills. I've developed super-sonic hearing and near-bionic reflexes. I've been transformed from domestic slattern to something like a concentration camp guard. And, with my neighbours, I've been conducting, and co-ordinating, a major military campaign. You could even call it a surge.

Yes, ever since a mouse ran across my floor in the middle of The Number One Lady's Detective Agency on Easter Day, I've been on red alert. Last time I had mice, I chased one behind the microwave, caught it with a wooden spoon and a plastic bag and set it free. But when one ran over my face in the night, things turned nasty. This time round, it's war. When friends come round (not for food, obviously) I welcome them to the killing fields. As General Petraeus told Congress yesterday, there are "significant" improvements, but the situation remains "challenging".

c.patterson@independent.co.uk