Globusz^® Publishing 

The coach was on time. A seat had been reserved for Norman beside Lottery Lenny. They sat just behind Ernest and Katie. Lenny spent the whole journey studying probabilities, his latest assault on the Lottery. Smoking was allowed causing poor visibility on board. With no air-conditioning on the old coach, the driver kept opening the front door to bring in fresh air, which froze the brewery workers into stony silence.

Nancy’s family watched the arrival fall out of the coach in a cloud of smoke; it was a pantomime. Katie and Nancy’s sister wore veils; they hugged and cried at everything. Lenny tried to get investors for his new lottery system. All the lads from the brewery had cigarette ash on their creased suits. The cold had brought out their booze red noses and goose bumped wives who were spilling out from both ends of their 60s outfits. The brewery boss was unable to attend, being still locked up for drunken driving from the night before. Norman was asked to speak up as he was the most educated of the brewery contingent. He was able to deliver the feelings of all from the brewery well enough to keep Katie crying. Nancy’s sister unable to speak had delegated her words to her husband. He would of made a good stand-up thought Norman. The Vicar tried to convince everyone Nancy had gone to a better place, “An easy argument to win these days,” remarked Lenny to Norman.

It had been agreed before hand, a toast would take place at the graveside, after which friends and family would go their separate ways. Lenny known as a member of the local toastmasters’ guild presided by default. “Nancy Trollope,” he managed. ‘Nothing to controversial with that,’ Norman advised him on their return journey. Paddy had gone to the wrong cemetery before getting a puncture; Doc had been unable to find the jack whilst Paddy kept warm in the car. The break down service had got them back on the road just in time to hear and drink to Lenny’s toast.

Charles at the Prince of Wales had laid on a modest spread for their return. He was an old fashioned landlord and didn’t agree with, ‘Food or Women in pubs.’ Norman was determined not to get drunk today, well not there anyway. He sat with Patrick, Doc. and the barmaids from the Two Buttocks. Again Lenny got to toast Nancy, he stuck to his tried and tested “ Nancy Trollope.” They all stood for this as he directed and it seemed to now relegate Nancy to just another old brewery tale. Shortly after, Ernest took Katie off home. Norman and his staff made small talk having agreed to meet up the following week to discuss the New Year at the Two Buttocks. Patrick had to return to his day job, leaving Norman and Doc to exchange a few words; they went up to the bar for more drinks.

Patrick’s a Hospital Porter weird aye” whispered Norman.

“All this has really got to me,” started Doc, “I know you and her were close.”

“We weren’t close,” replied Norman, “she would not have let anybody get there. But the news of her death was devastating, that book has helped me cope.” He was interrupted as Betsy arrived at the bar; she kissed both men, smiled and joined them at their table. First she got Norman’s account of the day followed by the Doc version.

Having been deserted by their colleagues, Norman, Doc and Betsy decided to call in at the Two Buttocks. Switching on just the exit sign lights not to show their presence, they shared a bottle of red wine. Norman’s ringing of a £10 note into the till echoed.

The three toasted Nancy, “Goodbye from the Two Buttocks.”

“At least no one said those grating words, at least she didn’t suffer, added Doc.”

“I’m not fucking surprised,” snapped Norman, “she was crushed to death by a lorry.”

“No, you know what I mean.” Pleaded Doc, “when people say, at least it was sudden or they didn’t suffer a long illness. When they really mean, thank fuck it was quick so no-one else had to suffer with them. I hate that.”

“Can we change the subject please,” enquired Betsy.

The men nodded and the conversation gently drifted into the three of them working together on Norman’s stand-up career. Betsy confessed she had, ‘Known old Doc for yonks and she had been at University with his wife Shauna.’ Adding that, “She suffered from compulsive disorder order, but a real career lady now, wish I had her salary to spend, aye Doc oh! I forgot, you do.”

“Aye Doc is a race course I believe,” answered Doc in a laughing and mocking tone. 

Early that evening they taxied round to Betsy’s local eatery. She suggested they “Get in and out before the New Years Eve brigade arrived, wearing their silly hats, blowing those awful plastic things. And of course tonight is mobile phone eve. There will be enough fucking radiation bouncing about to keep the food hot on their plates for hours.” The two men laughed at Betsy as they ate their starters, a free bottle of red wine had been placed on their table by the restaurateur.

“I think there’s a sad irony to New Year’s Eve,” added Doc, “reminds me of the turkeys looking forward to Xmas gag. It’s weird people actually celebrating being a year nearer to death.”

“I’ll drink to that,” responded Nancy, “Norman!”

“I’ll drink and eat to that,” he announced and he did. A much lager human specimen than his companions, he consumed, ‘A mountain of food washed down by a passing river of red wine,’ pointed out Doc as he turned a touch rather poetic with the assistance of, ‘The cooking brandy,’ as he claimed just prior to falling back off his chair into the lap of a women trying to breast-feed her baby. Doc had a fresh shaven head this day and for a brief moment it looked like the women had three breasts. Her partner, a six foot female and would-be Worlds Strongest Women contestant, insisted Doc, ‘Voz very drunk,’ in a German accent and he should, ‘Leaves ze restaurant.’ Norman stood up towering over the situation, picked Doc up as he had done at the venue one evening. He pointed out to the still smiling waiter, that he had left plenty of money on the table, “Buy the kid a milk on me and have a drink yourself Marshall, we’re leaving town.” He added. To the amazement of other diners the three left, Norman still carrying Doc like a puppet, shouting, ‘Auf Wiedersehen Pet,’ loudly back at the outraged Fräulein.

Outside they all fell about with laughter, the fresh air brought Doc round enough to stand on his own. Norman and Betsy through silent mutual consent walked him back to her place. There they laid him on a sofa placing the glass of wine he requested by his side, then he fell into a deep sleep.

Norman and Betsy shared a pot of coffee and a packet of cigarettes as they watched another tide send the river past the apartment for their added pleasure. This was the most if not the first exciting period in Norman’s life. He still had the significance of the day engraved on his mind but could not bring Nancy back to life, so he had moved on and into the shower room with Betsy. They both slept as a New Year started only to be woken by Doc playing the piano in the early hours. He then played them back to sleep before he tiptoed away, leaving a thank you note stuck to the wc; It read Doc was here P.S. thanks for the meal ‘It voz good ya!’

It was just before mid-day the two started to take stock of their hangovers from under the duvet. Betsy produced sparkling medication in the form of chilled Moet, orange juice and painkillers. They then opted for a light breakfast, toast, coffee, cigarettes and sex. A mid-afternoon walk was initiated by Betsy; they walked up to London Bridge along the riverbank. She took him over the bridge for a glimpse of the City. When near to dropping of post over-indulgence she hailed a passing cab and directed it homeward.

They broke their journey to return to the scene of Doc’s attempt at returning to the breast. The restaurant owner welcomed them in. They enjoyed late afternoon tea and cakes, the place was busy with families. The would-be comics studied the other customers. “Mainly families that had been unable to get baby sitters New Years Eve,” remarked Betsy, “so here they are a New Years Day family treat. All desperate to get out of the house. They’ve suffered Xmas, just look at them. He is desperate to get back to work, she is desperate for him to get back to work and those little brats are the worst things that could have happened to that relationship. They will drive it apart as they force it to stay together.” Norman listened at her bitterness and agreed. “Right that’s our cue to fuck off, here that music,” said Betsy, “That’s the Gypsy Kings doing, ‘My Way.’ It doesn’t get any sadder than this. They walked back towards the apartment. Betsy suggested there should be an equivalent to rehab clinic for those overweight Mums in the restaurant. “They could call it reheat,” she shrieked with delight, “let’s go see a new film.” After a freshen-up they headed back out to the West End, again another new experience for Norman. The film they agree is just O.K. and leave before the end.

After an emergency visit to a McDonalds they high jacked an off duty taxi and bribe him for a lift home. Armed with a bottle of vintage red, to compliment the big-Macs Betsy served up a late dinner. “Could never understand why they took to calling these Freedom Fries in the states last year,” remarked Betsy, “fuck it all up again fries, maybe.” After they had eaten, she turned up the cable music channel on the TV. on her way to produce a huge chocolate gateau from the fridge. She danced her way to the shower room, leaving Norman behind. He followed her and then dressed in matching bathrobes they ate the entire desert washed down with another bottle of red before falling into a pair of armchairs. A couple hours watching the latest pop videos consisting mainly of near naked young firm flesh reminded the pair of sex, so they had lots before their day ended.

“The holiday is over,” were the first words Betsy spoke to Norman next morning. “We need to see Doc today. So much to plan, your very own stand-up career, the new year at the Two Buttocks and there’s me of course. You will need a comediennes touch in all of this you know.” Norman nodded as he wondered what she had in her mind. Betsy noticed this, adding, “As the boss, it’s time you made your first executive decision Norman.”

“And that should be?” he asked.

“To hire me, of course, as your trusty assistant,” she replied, “you, Doc and me, what a team. Look do I have to fuck you again to get this job or what.”

“No, you have the job Miss Norfolk,” he answered.

“I’ll fuck you anyway,” she screamed.

“Anyway?” enquired Norman as he whispered his fantasy into her ear. They lost most of the morning, without a care. After a light and non-alcoholic late breakfast, Betsy left Norman to amuse himself while she went off on a long bike ride. He chatted to Katie on the phone. She was dreading going back to work the following week and having to sit in the office and look at an empty desk once occupied by Nancy. Norman did his best to comfort her, even offering to return home to start the new week with them. With Betsy out for such a long time, he returned to Nigel’s book soon becoming engrossed in it, deciding he perhaps should believe in something, so this would do for now. Betsy found him sitting in a deep window ledge meditating on her return; disturbed, he claimed to have nodded off.

“You can’t fool me, you fucking old hippie,” laughed Betsy, “you’ve been reading that book and meditating. Well I’ve been meditating too, whilst riding my bike and decided we should go and pay the Doc a visit, right now.” She telephoned Doc; he was delighted to hear she and Norman were on their way.

As they left the apartment, Betsy pointed at a car Norman had noticed on his visits.

“Get in then,” she said, as the key concealed in her hand opened the door locks from six paces. Norman struggled before giving up with the seat belt. Betsy speeded away. This was to be another new experience for Norman. They crossed Blackfriars Bridge to head north, passing Kings Cross, Camden Town and the Round House at Chalk farm before the steep climb to Hampstead. Before the tube station they turned left and entered, “Poodle Land,” as Betsy called it, “these Mansion blocks are full of eccentrics apart from the old ladies with their poodles, look there’s one. And of course there’s Doc, his career four-wheel drive wife and three, yes that’s three brats, Faith, Hope and Charity.” 

“Lovely names,” remarked Norman.

“Not if your surname is Case,” replied Betsy.

“Oh I see, Charity-Case, oh dear.”

“As I was saying they all live with his mother in-law, now there’s a real fruitcake for you. She stopped giving her old clothes to the charity shop; reckons she saw Osama Bin Laden wearing one of her favourite dresses on the tele. Don’t worry she’s on her winter cruise. Shagging her way through the crew in order of rank, probably down in the boiler room by now. Well she has been at sea since November.” Betsy pulled the car up to a halt on the hand brake, “Just like riding a horse, here we go and don’t let me drink.”

Doc greeted them, “Welcome to Her Majesty’s Prison Hampstead, the family’s out today.”

“That’s a relief,” exclaimed Betsy, “I forgot my child spray.”

“I guess you’re still a member of the Norfolk Friends of Herod Society Betsy,” replied Doc as he showed his visitors into a massive lounge decorated in various colonial styles. There were three statues two Buddha, one was laughing. Beautiful rugs were placed between the large leather sofas. The writing on a mirror in the hallway read, ‘Yes you are funny.’ 

“I see you’re still a member of the Hampstead Friends of Harrods Society.”

“Touché Betsy, this is bit like living in a museum really,” said Doc.

“Bit,” replied Betsy, “totally I should think.”

“Totally like living in a museum then,” said Doc. They all laughed and hugged each other.

“Let’s play hide and seek,” suggested Betsy.

“Tea for three my dear,” ordered Doc, “off you go; Norman and I will be in the smoking room.”

Betsy walked off towards the kitchen giving Doc the V sign as she wiggled her ass at the two men.

“If I was 30 years older, I’d pay her for sex,” Doc concluded.

“In thirty years time she’ll pay you for sex,” replied Norman somewhat in awe of his surrounds.

“You know Norman, the World is a call centre and it does my head in. I wasted hours today trying to explain to some poor chap in the middle of India about my Internet connection problem. I ended up feeling guilty, he probably shares his pittance of a wage with his whole family and I’m moaning about my broadband. I should do a routine on that really; lighten it up a bit of course.”

The two waited for Betsy to join them with the tea and biscuits. As she sat down, Doc piped up, “You can be mother dear for our tea ceremony.”

“Sounds painful,” replied Betsy as she poured, “a toast, Clare Short.”

They raised their teacups. “Now let’s get down to business,” suggested Doc.

They found talking easy. Norman announced Betsy would assist him at the Two Buttocks. The 14^th of February would still be the re-opening of the venue. As the work being done there would only take place day- time, the three would rehearse some evenings as well as audition new acts. Doc had some bookings for Norman in January, a quiet time on the circuit. He would not use his, ‘Norman the Doorman,’ current stage name. After some consideration he came up with ‘Zen Warwickshire.’ Doc seemed pleased with that and poured more tea for his guests.

“Why, Zen Warwickshire?” asked Betsy.

“A bit like you really, I’m from Warwickshire.”

“And the Zen bit?” she said.

Norman pulled Nigel’s book from his large coat pocket and slapped it on the table. Doc recognised it and then realised that it was in fact he that had inspired Norman’s new stage name. He laughed, “Good old Nigel he helps you out when you want to get in.”

After all agreed to meet up at the Two Buttocks after the weekend, Betsy drove Norman away from North London.

“Your place or mine,” she asked.

“Surprise me,” he replied as she pulled up outside her local restaurant.

“I’m paying, is that a big enough surprise?”

“That’ll do me,” he answered. They had dinner during which Norman mentioned he would return home the following morning as Katie needed his support through the weekend and at work on Monday. He must also give notice at the Brewery, “Couple of weeks I guess,” he said nervously.

Betsy was on form, “I’ll drink to that me dearie, another bottle of this fine old wine,” she hollered at the owner. He was still amused by their last visit with Doc and presented the wine as a gift. This turned out to be a long stay in the restaurant. They could hear thunder in the distance and after several large brandies and strong coffee they decide to head off to the apartment. They would have to leave the car parked in the street and walk the short distance. Just as they passed by, the darkened sky above them was sliced in two by a streak of awesome lightning. They dived for cover inside the car, the street was deserted and the rain dense as the car windows steamed up whilst they engaged in what turned out to be sexual foreplay.

Against Norman’s advice Betsy started the engine and drove the short distance up to the apartment-block gates. “Sanctuary,” she cried out as they opened on her remote, “we made it.”

The courtyard was packed out with cars so Betsy parked just inside the gates. As they walked on, the rain was filling every crevice in their path. Betsy wanted to play in the courtyard. She jumped into the puddles and kicked water at Norman, he ran off to shelter. Next, to his amazement she propped herself out in the open up against a wall, allowing the rain to cascade over her. It was as if she was under a waterfall and in the cold and wet her nipples showed erect through her thin white blouse. Norman watched and would control himself no more. He moved in on her. She slipped away running into a covered parking area. Then on the bonnet of a neighbours car, having taken off her knickers she offered herself face down. Norman glad of at least some privacy in the shadows, lifted her short wet skirt and fucked her. They were both detached from the world by now soon climaxing together, this set the car alarm siren screeching and the lights flashing, they fled the scene.

Back inside the apartment laughing they hung up their drenched clothes, hot showered and fell asleep in the king-size bed within minutes. They slept through to the following mid-day. Their breakfast was light, lingering over a pot of strong coffee and cigarettes they chatted. Betsy opening up a bit explaining that she temped for a living. “You’re not kidding,” added Norman.

“Ha ha ha Mr. Funny guy. I mean office stuff, you know, web design work if I can get it. I did the Two Buttocks site for Doc, not that I got paid for that of course and I just hate technology anyway. I reckon E-mails and Texts are just two more ways for people to ignore me.”

“I was a temp since college, unskilled though. Got sent to some scary factories, even an abattoir,” Norman admitted.

“Oh, you speak French Norman.”

“I had nightmares after that, still do, that’s life.”

“Don’t you mean death? You want a lift home? ” 

Norman declined her offer, “You still got enough alcohol in you to last a week,” he told her, then set off walking to the bus stop. The trip home he found interesting and it gave him time to prepare to re-enter the world of Ernest and Katie, he planned to continue reading his book that weekend.

Once inside those red brick walls he remembered what a prison it could have been. The house was quiet, Katie in her room Ernest just back from the Prince, now eating. “Katie will be pleased you’re back home,” Ernest blurted out between mouthfuls of stew, Norman ducked the spit.

Katie was pleased to see him, “Now we can all face Monday together,” she insisted.

The weekend dragged by for Norman. Ernest was back into his routine, Katie only ventured out for essential shopping. Norman was feeling like a teenager again, in his room he read, tried meditating and responded when called down to eat. The lack of life did however give him time to work on new routines. He decided against contacting Betsy, he had business at home and at the brewery to deal with.

Monday morning Ernest returned to work early on his own, leaving Norman to escort Katie into her office. Duty done Norman returned to work himself. Having later in the day given in his notice to Lenny, he felt relieved as he returned home that evening. Katie went off to bingo, Ernest was at the Prince playing darts, and Norman was delighted with his total privacy. He ate the stew Katie had left out and watched the TV. Soon his phone got busy. First was Paddy, off loading anything resembling work at the venue. Next, Doc, he had been offered a cheap holiday and was phoning from an airport Norman had never heard of, “Just a couple of weeks or so,” he shouted over the top of the departure announcements. “Oh, that’s me. Betsy will cover, I’m paying her. Got your first gig booked, 31^st. January, must fly, cheers.”

Norman was still stunned from the news of his first gig when Betsy called up, “Remember me?” she asked, “I’m the one you fucked over the bonnet of that Audi the other night and I’m still sore.”

“I vaguely remember fucking somebody, you’re sure it was an Audi? Looked more like a Ford,”

“Well it sure felt like an Audi,” argued Betsy, “be funny if it belonged to that Fräulein in the restaurant, especially if she’d seen us, or heard us, or both. There are cameras in the courtyard; I hope we don’t end up on, you’ve Been Framed.” They laughed and chatted away for an hour, mainly on the merits of staying single, just one of their growing numbers of common interests.

January was flying by for Norman and Betsy, with Doc extending his holiday via E-mails to the venue office. “He always brings gifts back and claims they’re not tourist souvenirs,” added Betsy. “You know that, I met this guy and he took me to his home and his blind mother makes these beautiful necklaces bull-shit, I fucking hate that one.”

Lenny had let Norman off with little notice from the Brewery, in return for some Doorman work. The builders seemed to have dragged out the job till another came along. Then left, leaving Norman a week of cleaning up. However, he got through even seeing the funny side of things. At last the three sat down in the office of, ‘The New Two Buttocks,’ as Doc now called it. He was full of praise for Norman and Betsy or, “Guilt,” Betsy claimed was more likely.

“I never have more than one holiday at a time though,” Doc insisted, “and the kids needed a break.”

“Yeah from you,” suggested Betsy, “anyway, where did you go?”

“The States, Long Island.”

“What was it like?”

“Long and surrounded by water.”

“That must have been a shock,” added Norman. 

“No, not really.”

“Someone told me there’s an old blind lady that makes beautiful necklaces on that Island.” 

“Oh really Norman! I just brought you all back duty free cigs; you can make a necklace out them if you like, you fucking wind-up merchants.”

Betsy roared with laughter. She then noticed Doc’s passport on his desk. “I must just see your photo,” she found it. “Not bad Doc,” she exclaimed, “a very handsome pose.”

“Well it would be would it not, it’s a photograph dear and they never lie, ‘I can never get the, oh! don’t look at my passport picture it makes me look what-ever.’ You know that Naomi Campbell and George Clooney have never had a bad passport photo. That’s because their good-looking, like me. It’s only ugly people that have ugly passport photos believe me I’m a Doctor. 

The three were excited and were enjoying each others’ company. Doc revealed the identity of Norman’s first away gig. It was to be The Micro-Wave in West London, on Saturday 31^st of January. “You cut that a bit fucking fine Doc,” exclaimed Betsy.

“Get away you ugly old hag,” replied Doc as they went on to other matters.

With their meet up concluded, Betsy offered Doc a lift home. “He hates pubic transport,” she pointed out to Norman as he locked the venue door behind them. He then ran through some of his new ideas on the stage. Later as he walked home and stopped off to sit on Nancy’s wall. He fought hard to hold back his tears.

The rest of the week was fun for the three, Doc holding auditions and rehearsals each day. Betsy was very busy in the office, working for the venue and Doc; Norman finding his feet, then losing them, then trying to find them again. He was getting nervous, as Saturday 31^st was getting nearer.

Doc had provided their transport to the Micro-wave; an old minicab driven by a Rastafarian pulled up outside of Norman’s home. Ernest and Katie insisted on giving him a wave off. Doc and Betsy were waving madly back as the cab pulled away. Norman knew they were only winding him up so he joined in the waving and it stopped; only he noticed as the cab passed a, ‘For Sale,’ sign outside Nancy’s house and his thoughts turned to her.

Doc explained that Betsy was first up on stage that night and that Norman would close the first half of the show. “By the way,” added Doc, “did I mention I am compare tonight, No! I thought I did, a senior moment perhaps.” Norman mused to himself on these new revelations.