Contents
Chapter One - Auntie Knows Best...2
Chapter Two - The Natives are friendly ...11
Chapter Three - The opening of the Two Buttocks ...20
Chapter Four - Xmas is for giving ...27
Chapter Five - Three Comedians and a Funeral ...45
Chapter Six - Back to Work...56
Chapter Seven - The out of Towners ...60
Chapter Eight - Valentine’s Day Fiasco ...74
Chapter Nine - Enter Mr. Patel Centre Stage...90
Chapter Ten - Three Comedians and another Funeral, but the Show must go on. ....103
Chapter Eleven - Hello Sailor ...114
Chapter Twelve - What a Difference a Week Makes ...137
Chapter One - Auntie Knows Best
Ernest and Katie Needle were both at work; the fact that it was a Friday would lead them through their routine for the day and carry them into their weekend. They had both started work in McNaughton’s London Brewery during the Swinging Sixties. Now heading towards retirement they moved like cogs within a giant machine. Having to pass a fish and chip shop on his way home from work and a local pub reminded Ernest, that God did at least create a perfect World for him.
Katie was married to a merchant seaman when she first started in the wages office; they had married young and he had enjoyed sex on a global scale before it killed him. She was hard and had wasted no time in next marching Ernest up the steps of the local registry office. The fact that he was shortly to inherit his hospitalised mother’s house was the biggest turn on to be had within the brewery workforce. Katie had still lived at the time with her large family, all-waiting for Sinbad as they called him to return bearing gifts; he never did. So she instead had to suffer Ernest.
The old horn that brought the day shift to a close caused the usual Friday jokes. Katie would make her way home ahead of Ernest, as she was office staff; tonight however having to consider a pleading phone call she had received that day from her sister.
Katie knew how to tell her husband of the call. She would just wait until he was stuffing his face with the Friday night carrier bag full of stodge from the chip shop, washed down with a large bottle of McNaughton’s Light Ale. With his short concentration span, if she talked slowly enough, he would never know what he had agreed on.
Her plan worked, Ernest was only alerted to the news that their Nephew would be in the East End the next day and how nice it would be to see him, but not that Nineteen-year-old Norman Smith was to be their first lodger. In fact, he would be the first person ever to invade the private world of Ernest and Katie. Norman had been adopted by Katie’s sister Lucy and husband Frank Junior Smith. He had been found during the clean up after a rock festival. The Police could not be sure if he was abandoned or his Parents had just got stoned and forgot they had a baby, possibly wandered back to the wrong tent and started another life. He was rapped in a patchwork quilt made up of rock star portraits, as the centrepiece was Frank Zappa the Police named him Frank. That name caught the attention of Frank Junior Smith as he toured an orphanage with wife Lucy some years later, looking for a son and heir to their Council flat in Birmingham. Lucy however insisted on the
name change, so Norman Frank Junior Smith was reborn out of
compromise. Ernest would annoy Katie by referring to their nephew as Glastonbury.
The cause of Norman now being shipped off to London was of, “A rather delicate nature,” Lucy had explained. “Norman has been having improper relations with our next door neighbour and only whilst her husband is away fighting in Her Majesty’s Armed Forces!”
“Isn’t that treason?” asked Katie in a startled tone. “No, but it would be if my Frank was King.”
The couple embarrassed by Norman’s actions and fearing a quick end to the war gave him two choices; he fancied the staying alive one. Lucy had even offered Katie money knowing that would appeal to Ernest.
Following on from his Friday night stodge, Ernest fell asleep in his easy chair. He was a thin short man, untidy dark and grey hair, with a dress sense with which he would have looked at home in a silent movie.
Katie dozed off in their bed upstairs. This was always the prelude to Friday night out at their Friday night local, which involved just coming out the front door and turning right. Unlike their Saturday night out at their Saturday night local, which involved just coming out of their front door and turning left.
From 9 o’clock they took part in a real old East End knees up, Ernest loved it. Katie played cards with the ladies from the office; however this night she thought long and hard about how life might be with Norman the Nephew in tow. The evening slipped by as usual, Paddy the pub landlord pleading with Ernest later-on to make his way, “Down the yellow chip road and not to take sweets from strangers, only money.” Paddy always used the law as his excuse to close.
Once back home Katie and Ernest were soon tucked up in bed, he
comatose, she now panicking about the dawning of the next day that would bring the end to their timeless and exclusive routine. She did eventually fall asleep only to wake to the sound of her alarm clock.
It was 9am the start of Katie’s Saturday morning two-hour bathroom makeover. She was still an attractive woman and loved this time of each week like no other. She pampered herself and sometimes in a sexual
manner. In the bath she heard and felt their door buzzer. It sounded like the ones used on the old television quiz shows. Ernest on hearing it buzz and to his amusement only would shout out the answer to an imaginary quiz
Katie, curious as to why so much conversation was taking place, got out of the bath. She slithered still wet and soapy into her silk-look dressing gown. Her head appeared round the bathroom door, from where she could look straight down the stairs. Strange at first she thought, ‘No daylight showing up the damp patches on the flowery wallpaper; was the front door open, she strained to see beyond the cowering frame of Ernest.
As if wedged into their doorway, Katie saw an almost rectangular shape. Without her glasses she squinted long and hard before making out the smiling face of a young man near the top of the doorframe. “Who is it Ernest,” she enquired in her haughty tone.
“Says he is to lodge with us!” came his shocked reply.
With firmness now in her voice, Katie instructed Ernest to show his
Nephew Norman into the Front Room. “I will be down shortly,” she advised the pair of them. On returning to the bath, the noises from below as the men attempted to close the front door, open the front room door and move
Norman’s enormous suitcase, gave her much cause for concern; she sighed. As Katie reached the bottom of the stairs, she caught sight of Ernest waving frantically from the safety of their lounge-dining room. He gestured it was time he escape to the pub; after all it was what he did Saturday
mornings if he was not at work. Avoiding eye contact he hurried out through the back door, leaving it open to lesson the condemnation of his actions. Katie was pleased to see the back of him; she made her way to greet
Norman. There in the front room, time had stood still since Ernest’s Parents had only once decorated and furnished it.
“We should open this room to the public at weekends,” remarked Katie. “You would need wheelchair access though,” replied Norman.
She laughed, “I can tell we will get on like a house on fire, do you smoke?”
“Yes please,” he said “Do you drink?”
“Just a sherry at Xmas.”
“Funny, that’s not what your Mother told me, “I guess Ernest was of no help with that suitcase. He’s a right lazy so and so, but harmless.”
In the modest comfort of the front room, Katie and Norman drew hard on their cigarettes in almost a tribal manner. She explained that only her good self made the house rules. His room was at the front of the house, next to theirs, but not to worry, he would not hear any cries of passion coming through the wall. His guided tour of the house included the outside toilet,
where he was informed, “That’s the gents’.” Katie had even more startling revelations; she explained how during the summer months the brewery took on temporary staff. Norman would start on Monday. However, she admitted that he would need to pass himself off as a student, “Company policy,
sorry,” she said excusing herself, as she pointed to the whereabouts of snack food before going off to her room.
Having dressed for her weekly maintenance trip to the graves of her Late In-Laws, Katie waved to Norman, “See you for tea time and just ignore Ernest.” Her words relaxed him; he settled into an armchair in front of their big old television set in the back lounge diner and fell asleep.
Just like the classic fictional drunk, Ernest fell through his back door at 3.30. Norman was startled but did not show it, on account of his size he re-acted slowly to most things in life. Ernest stumbled round him as if he was a new piece of furniture and made his way up the stairs, “Alright; I Must ‘ave forgot you was coming to stay, excuse me I’m suffering from terminal laziness,” being the only conversation he managed.
Katie returned at 5 o’clock. Norman was asleep, but woke with her presence in the room as she handed him a cup of tea and explained the
routine for the rest of the weekend. The evening meal as they called it was at 7 o’clock; a meat and veg affair, no pudding, McNaughton’s Light Ale to wash it down for the boys and tea for her good self. This would be followed by tea all round as a final stomach liner before their big Saturday night out.
Norman went off to his room. He now unpacked and tried to feel fully at home. Lying on the old double bed he gazed at a new world to him. This was a real afternoon television movie set he thought and perhaps Richard Burton would suddenly walk into the room. After much thought, he heard Katie calling out, “Grubs up.” Ernest must be conditioned to this routine thought Norman as he heard him stir and make his way down the stairs to the dining table.
Norman a touch nervous followed on. As he joined the others a chair awaited him at the table, opposite Katie. “Never ad a lodger before,” said Ernest.
“Nor me,” replied Norman. That was all the conversation that took place over that meal.
After a couple of hours of watching television in silence Ernest went upstairs to put his Saturday night suit on. Katie passed in her Saturday outfit joined Norman on the sofa, “You will come,” she said.
“Sure,” he replied, wanting to fit in. He had not changed his clothes since arriving, but his look passed the Katie test or he would have been told.
When the three of them set off, it was of course out the front door turn left night, Ernest walked out in front leaving the others to walk side-by-side and even break the usual silence.
“Ernest has taken being a lert too literally,” pointed out Katie to Norman as she laughed.
As they entered the Prince of Wales pub it was as usual, busy and noisy with a happy locals atmosphere noted Norman. At first the crowd went into a bit of a whisper mode. They thought Norman was on his own and his size caused concern to the landlord Charles, “If he gets pissed, you can throw him out,” said Charles’ son Churchill as he pulled a pint for Ernest.
Suddenly Norman was being introduced by Katie to one and all. This would be the theme of the evening, as curiosity brought over even those that
preferred to socialise in their private clusters.
“Welcome to the Prince of Wales, I am Charles the landlord of course and the peoples’ true Prince of Wales,” bellowed a man in his sixties perched at the end of the bar watching all. His beer gut sitting proudly on the counter in front of him.
Ernest rose to the occasion like a proud father. It had always been Ernest and Katie, now there were three of them by default and Ernest was even more contented. At first Norman was taken off to sit with his Uncle and some brewery workers. Katie joined her lady friends in a booth, for cards and gossip. As the evening de-generated somewhat Norman got the chance to socialise, no longer under the proud, yet restricting glances of his
newfound guardians. First to monopolise him was Nancy Trollope, this caused many heads to turn. “Trollope by name, Trollope by nature,” remarked Katie. The comments addressed to Ernest at his table were pure filth on this subject.
Nancy was attractive; she worked in the same office as Katie. She was most kindly referred to as the merry widow. Her late husband Dick had been killed in a tragic accident at the brewery, where he also had worked. He was most well remembered for buying vegetables from the local market, then giving them away to the bosses at the brewery as his home grown. This along with his name and the circumstances of his death provided a constant source of sick humour, not only at the brewery but also at the local pubs. Even this night a pal of Ernest’s commented, “Pity your nephew’s not called Dick, Nancy still loves her dick.”
Nancy’s house backed on to Ernest and Katie’s, just separated by their small back gardens and the lane that ran the length of the streets. This meant of course with Ernest and Katie sleeping in their backroom and Nancy in hers, the merry widow had few secrets and no vegetable patch. A pair of
binoculars once used for nights at the local dog track provided both Ernest and Katie separately with many hours of adult entertainment.
The Prince of Wales pub operated flexi-time on a Saturday, so landlord Charles informed his customers throughout the evening. “As long as you spend, we serve,” he croaked on noticing the till had gone silent. He and Churchill would take it in turns serving and stayed open all hours.
Katie thinking that it all might be a bit much for Norman on his first night, gathered up first Ernest by the scruff of his collar and then Norman more politely as the clock struck Mid-night. Ernest was in a state of shock walking home sober for the first Saturday night in his life possibly, “Everything looks strange,” he said. Katie wasted no time in giving her nephew the facts of life talk with the substitution of the birds and the bees for a somewhat more graphic Nancy theme. Ernest developed a new saying, “That’s right, your Auntie knows best,” he said in a pure grovel tone. The three bid the local chip-shop owner goodnight as they passed by. “I love that chip shop,” blurted out Ernest, as if he was making a confession.
“I know dear and the chip shop loves you,” replied Katie.
As the three entered their home, Katie was also confused to be home so early and sober on a Saturday night. She announced to Ernest she would be taking a long un-interrupted bath, followed by an early night with her romantic novel, which would be finished tonight and also without interruption; then she wished Norman goodnight.
Ernest seemed relaxed and contented to have company. He sat in his favourite armchair; poured McNaughton’s Ale for the two of them and stretched his braces. “Blokes at work reckon this is a right affidavit if you drink enough.” he said.
“Do you mean aphrodisiac uncle?”
“Yeah that’s it. Do you like Chas and Dave?” “Don’t know them,” replied Norman.
“Gertcha,” sounded the old man.
The two watched the latest news on the tele, “You wouldn’t catch me trying to sail round the world in a’rangatang,” commented Ernest with his words now slurred.
“Nor me Uncle,” laughed Norman as he headed off for his first night’s sleep under the roof of the Needles. Ernest stumbled his way to the outside toilet. Norman knocked on the bathroom door, “Thanks for everything Auntie Katie,” he shouted through the sound of running water; there was no
reply. Norman settled into his new bed, great he thought, this life is so easy and with a feeling of total security he fell asleep.
6 am. Sunday, Norman woke up with the fear of God in him. “What the fuck am I doing here,” he asked himself. It had dawned on him, that this was not the morning after the night before, more a case of the first day of the rest of his life. He took deep breaths to fight off an anxiety attack, then he
managed to put things into perspective in his head. He reasoned with himself, he could just treat this situation like a working holiday with
relatives. It did not have to be more than that. He thought about moving on after the summer, an old school mate Chris Mason worked as a waiter on the cruise ships, “That’s it he muttered, I will go to sea, move on from here, why not. I must send him an E-mail, an S.O.S. must be a Cyber Café round here somewhere.” They had been best friends all through school; it was their almost identical heights that had caused the bond. Chris the adventurer of the two had left school as soon as the chance came, leaving Norman to then concentrate and throw himself into years of endless exams. Chris went off in search of fun, he had told Norman, ‘The minute you take life seriously, it’s over.’ Norman had missed Chris; having found a possible way out of his predicament he dozed off again.
Katie took Norman in a cup of tea, waking him at ten. He needed coffee but made do. Sunday would be another day of unfaltering routine. Ernest would take his bath in the morning; then scatter his toenail clippings over the garden. “It’s good for the soil,” he informed Norman.
“Must be right, Bloke in the Pub told me.” Katie sighed, she prepared the lunch before they set off to the pub. This session of the week was spent at the Hercules after a few introductions including the landlord Paddy who was not actually Irish, Norman found himself under the spell of the merry
widow. The seat beside her was the only vacant seat ever it seemed,
however he was in fact glad of her company, most present were much older than he. Nancy was, ‘Thirty something,’ she insisted; Katie in fact only knew her age and a sworn pact kept both their ages a secret. Both curvaceous blondes, they looked and acted like real cockney sisters.
Nancy warned Norman he was in for a boring day at his new home. Sunday evening was the only night of the week that both Ernest and Katie stayed in. “I think they have sex on Sundays,” she joked, then watched his reaction, he looked away. “Sorry, but imagine it,” she laughed; so did he. They continued to talk, laugh and enjoy each other’s company. Nancy suggested they should meet up that evening, if only to stop Norman feeling perhaps the odd man out at home. He thought perhaps he ought to give Ernest and Katie some privacy and agreed.
Katie marched her two men out of the pub at 3 o’clock sharp. Within minutes of their arriving back home, the Sunday roast was served. A bottle
of McNaughton’s Ale sat in the centre of the table, “Wine of the hop,” announced Norman. This remark went over the head of Ernest, but not Katie, she loved her crosswords. After a huge meal, Ernest returned from a long visit to the outside toilet, switched on the news channel and dozed off. Katie remarked how little Ernest knew, considering how many hours he spent in front of that, “Flaming news channel.”
After Norman had helped Katie with the washing up, she announced Sunday afternoons were spent alone in her room. Norman suggested he could use a bath before having a walk, “To check out the area, perhaps locate the brewery,” he added. Katie handed him over his own front door key. He explained that he would most likely have a few beers that evening, “Get to know a few of the natives perhaps he gestured.”
“Get to know Nancy more like,” she smiled and repeated some warnings regarding the merry widow. Norman took a short sleep before his bath, and then left the house still dressed in the clothes he had arrived in. On his way towards the brewery he passed Nancy’s front door, the house looked more modern than the others in the terraced street. Blinds not curtains, with
modern light fittings showing through and a skylight set into the front of her roof.
McNaughton’s Brewery gates were large and padlocked. Floodlights added to the bright early evening sun to give it the appearance through the steam of a space ship landing. Norman was glad to have his plan for escape in hand, as this place he thought was his worst nightmare.
Sunday night the Hercules was quiet and cold all year round. Paddy the landlord was watching tele on the big screen. Chain-smoking; with his pale tall skinny frame dressed in white vest and his grey hair he even looked like a cigarette as he coughed with every breath.
The picture was blurred; lions tour apart a zebra. The pub door flew open; Nancy swaggered up to the bar as she blew a kiss to Norman, seated in a corner. “No frigging wander, no bugger comes in here on a Sunday night, Paddy,” she yelled. “Put some music on or I’ll start singing.” Paddy laughed as he started to pour her usual drink. “Two quid,” he snarled, “Jukebox is over there.” Nancy sat down close to Norman, not in the seat he would have expected her to have chosen.
“Cheers my darling,” she almost whispered. “Can you believe this pub, it is a miracle Paddy can afford to keep it open, trade is so bad. He would never get a job anywhere; look at the state of him.” Norman nodded.
“So why are we here,” he asked.
“Privacy, too many wagging tongues at the Prince tonight,” she explained, “And that Charles is a right dirty bastard, calls Churchill a drip of the old
cock. He stinks; his breath could start an epidemic. Claims not to brush his teeth, reckons that what you pay the Dentist for; it was no surprise his poor wife left him. She ran off with the Juke Box engineer and all they had in common was a crush on Cliff Richard. ” Nancy continued to chat away; Norman just listened and nodded. A few more customers did drift in, not the brewery crowd. Couples sat in what seemed like their regular Sunday night positions. Nancy asked Norman if he could sense the forbidden love
atmosphere in the pub. She nodded him in the direction of some of the couples, commenting on their circumstances. “Affairs of the heart,” she sighed. “And sex.” Norman started to consider his position; now in the company of the merry widow he could feel others’ eyes upon him and
became self conscious these people knew of, ‘Nancy’s fancies,’ as Katie had called them.
“The bad news is,” announced Nancy, “this poor excuse for a boozer closes tonight at ten, Paddy’s poor wife, cancer you see,” she whispered as she drew on a freshly lit cigarette. “The good news is you are invited to my humble home for a night cap.” She had undressed Norman with her eyes and got quite excited when catching sight of his size twelve boots. Norman noting her gaze exclaimed, “Doc. Martins, very comfortable, I used to be a skinhead you know when I was at College.”
Nancy smiled as she enquired, “Why did you stop?”
“I fancied this black girl, but she didn’t want to know me.”
Placing her hands over his, she asked, “Did your change of image do the trick.”
“No” came the saddened reply, “turned out she was a Lesbian anyway.” At this they both laughed, for different reasons.
“I meant stop College, come on,” gestured Nancy, “one for the gutter.” Norman took the initiative, soon returning from the deserted bar with two large Southern Comforts. “I hope you are not trying to get me pissed young Norman,” slurred Nancy.
“Just being friendly,” he replied. They walked awkwardly at first on leaving the pub. Nancy deciding to take hold of Norman’s arm in an innocent way, “Just for support,” she explained leading the way into the small hallway of her house. There with the door closed she wrapped herself around her young escort,
Chapter Two - The Natives are friendly
They did not make it past the first few stairs which served as a make shift bed. They grunted and grunted and continued grunting till their satisfied groans brought a barking response from a neighbour’s dog out in the street. They were both still fully clothed as they got to their feet. Nancy gently steered Norman on his way out of the front door, with a tender kiss in his ear she whispered, “ See you at work in the morning Norman, take care of this little secret and we can have more.”
Norman chuckled on his short walk home, this sex business is great in London he thought, you get to keep your clothes on and leave straight after. He remembered all the fuss he had now left behind in the Midlands and shook his head, “And I didn’t even have to tell her I love her,” he mused. “Perhaps my real parents were Londoners!”
Katie had her eyes fixed on Nancy’s bedroom that evening from 10 o’clock, the time she new the Hercules closed. Sitting at her dressing table she was relieved to hear Norman use his key for the first time just gone 10.30. Good lad, she thought, Katie also had undressed Norman with her eyes and even fantasised various scenarios, as they were not really related they tended to follow the young lodger theme, rather than the other option. She did not greet Norman; he had a few friendly words with Ernest before going up to his room. He lit up a cigarette, sat on the end of his bed and thought about Nancy; it was to remain a secret but what next and how would she react to him at the brewery and then there’s Ernest and Katie His mind was working overtime; producing thoughts it seemed to stop him from sleeping. It was sex that got him here and it might be sex that would get him to somewhere else, the sea! Yes it was all fait; sex was sending him to sea. But surely sex is what people go to work at sea for; it is a vicious circle life he concluded. Then he fell asleep, confused but happy and sexually
satisfied.
Katie took Norman in coffee first thing Monday morning, she had noted his preference. He was to go into the brewery with her. Ernest had a 6am. Start. Katie and Norman would go in for 8.45. They moved around the kitchen well together, sharing the chores and enjoying each other’s company. After a light almost healthy breakfast they set off to work. On entering the brewery Katie handed over her Nephew to the foreman Lenny. A huge red faced man in his mid-forties with thinning ginger hair, better known as Lottery Lenny on account of the fact he spent small fortunes trying to win a big one. As a single man he could afford to gamble, but was a much-ridiculed figure for various reasons including his rejected advances
to Nancy. Norman fitted in well with the summer group of students; with his unkempt mop of jet-black hair he looked the part.
“Listen up,” Lenny addressed the group, “my name is Mr. Pratt, get your laughter over now. Welcome to McNaughton’s Brewery formerly Whitney’s Fine Ales. We still brew here, however our main function is as a main
distribution centre for your imported foreign lagers. Real ale! Well we brew Old Demented, Cats’ Piss and Mermaids Juice. Work! Right, let me explain, we brewery workers are as lazy as they come and proud of it. We barely find the time to work each day with the many distractions life throws our way, let alone maintain any standard of hygiene. So in the school holidays,” he said in a mocking tone, “we get in local students like your good selves. We pay you as little as the law allows and sit back and drink beer, while you clean the place up, in preparation for our yearly visit from the Environmental Health Inspector, by which time of course you lot have gone back to school. Any silly questions? No, good, right follow me.”
Lenny soon had them hard at work. Norman’s worst fears now confirmed, he eyed up the brewery walls as if a prisoner, now just turned nineteen-years of age he felt he might be under-achieving. The well educated, college drop out had yet to find his career niche, not that he had ever looked. He never blamed his orphan status for anything and had no hang-ups, he was just a drifter.
Katie tracked him down as he cleaned away, to encourage him she mentioned that Nancy sent her best wishes. Norman did feel a warm glow inside from their attention as he worked along side the other temporary workers, striking up friendships throughout the day. When given the go-ahead he made his own way home. Katie was there before him. She had put a stew on to cook. “It will be ready from 7,” she shouted from upstairs, “Just help yourself, with some bread and butter. Ernest is playing darts at the Prince of Wales; he will be back by 10 and will finish it off.”
Norman liked this feeling of being a part of Ernest and Katie’s world and felt at home, even if it was to be just a short stay. Katie soon had changed and gone to bingo with the ladies from the office, including, ‘Nancy,’ she had dropped into her words of farewell.
The telephone rang; Norman hesitated before he nervously picked up the handset.
“Is Katie there,” said a female voice. Norman explained nervously that she had gone to the bingo. “I know,” said Nancy, “how are you after your first day in Alcatraz? Aches and pains I should imagine, take a nice hot bath darling and have an early night. I will need you at your best later in the week, take care.”
Norman took this advice, followed by a generous helping of Katie’s stew washed down with the never-ending stock of McNaughton’s Ale. Better buy a crate of these he thought, on my way home tomorrow I guess; I must sort out paying some keep money too. He decided to bring the matter up with Ernest, man to man he thought. Ernest just referred him to Katie. Katie just said she would think about it.
The following day as Norman strolled back from the brewery he collected the beers and cigarettes, flowers and chocolates, only to arrive home to an empty house. A note only greeted him, it read, Ernest playing cribbage tonight at the Hercules, back by 10.30. I am out with the girls; stew on, ready by 7.30. What a social life these two have thought Norman. He took himself off to the bathroom, after a long soak he dared back downstairs wearing his dressing gown. The phone rang, he grabbed the handset straightaway, “Norman,” said Nancy.
Norman stayed silent.
“Very funny,” she snapped, “You, my place, now,” before she hung-up. Norman laughed. Once he had dressed for the job he strode off on the short walk to meet the merry widow. Her door was just open, he slowly pushed it back, inside was total darkness. Light showed from under a door at the top of the stairs. Once on the first floor he gently turned the door handle; the light went out, a click had come from the far end of the room. He saw just the outline of a woman in white, sitting on a bed, as she drew on her cigarette the glow illuminated her smile. Nancy completed her seduction with a spread of her legs, drawing them up to her chest as she released the tie on the top of her nightgown. Norman knew what to do to reward her for this generous offer. Once again he remained fully dressed as they wrestled on her king-size bed; he pushed away her curvaceous body as she wrapped herself around his waist forcing a ferocious pace of intercourse. It was soon over, she asked him to show himself out, blew him one last kiss, waved and gestured that this be another little secret. He closed the front door gently.
The street was not brightly lit; the house was situated away from the streetlights. Nancy has got it really sussed thought Norman as he sloped off back home. The stew was a touch soup like now, but extra tasty, he was in need of this meal and was fast asleep in his room by the time Ernest and Katie had returned. They were concerned if he was feeling at home or, ‘Perhaps he was lonely,’ worried Katie. “Look Ernest she said in an emotional tone, he has been to the shop, lovely flowers and chocolates, McNaughton’s Light Ales and fags. We did do the right thing taking him in, lovely boy.”
As the rest of the week came and went, Norman fell into the routine. Ernest and Katie went out every night separately. Friday and Saturday were their nights out together. Sunday they both stayed in. Norman fell in with
this, as the son Ernest and Katie never managed. Nancy was to provide his sex life. Katie even made the odd comment with regards to finding Norman a young lady. “You just wait till the Xmas-Eve disco at the Prince of
Wales,” had shouted Ernest in an excited state one night “loads of crumpet.” Norman had seen Nancy every day at the brewery; she had given him smiles that sent him week at the knees. Even if it was just sexual she had got him, right where she wanted him, on tap.
Saturday night at the Prince of Wales marked an anniversary, one week since Norman, Katie and Ernest had their lives joined through fait.
Sunday night was a more private affair. At the Hercules pub just Norman and Nancy raised their glasses. They were good together, laughed a lot and enjoyed their little secrets.
“Looks like this will be our last Sunday here for our sexual aperitif,” blurted out Nancy.
“In English please,” pleaded Norman.
“The poster, over there, have you not read it,” she said. Norman studied the very large poster.
“Comedy F.U. every night starts next Sunday here. Pay As You Enter only, Free Exit. Wanted dead or alive COMEDIANS & COMEDIENNES apply to the MISMANAGEMENT. We are not an equal opportunities employer (so if you’re not funny you can fuck off).
Ernest is not going to be too happy about this,” he concluded.
“Still leaves him the Prince to drink in,” answered Nancy. “Look, Paddy has got real problems here, his wife being so ill, trade not what is was. One of the comedy agents offered him a deal; it is still his pub on paper. They sort everything out with the comedy in return for the door money.” At that point Paddy joined the two clutching a drink each for them and his own.
“Need a word with you big fella, little birdie tells me you’re only a temp at the brewery. Got a proposition for you. Need a body here, told the jokers I’d supply the doorman. Needs to be a face people round here know. You’re O.K. working at the brewery and being family with Ernest and Katie. Well respected they are round here and trusted. You could be my ears and eyes.”
“Every night though,” replied Norman, “it says on that poster.”
“Bollocks,” said Paddy, “that’s just for show, will only be weekends at first anyway. See how it works out. You might be desperate for the hours when they kick you out the brewery end of the summer. What you say? ”
Nancy looked over at Norman nodding her head; he guessed she was the little birdie.
“So I not only get to tell Ernest one of his locals is as good as closing, to the likes of him,” answered Norman, “but I even get to kick him while he is down, with the good news, by the way Uncle Ernest guess what, I got the job as doorman, at the Hercules.”
“No no!” screamed Paddy. “The Two Buttocks, it is going to be called the Two Buttocks.”
“What, I have to even tell him that an all?” asked Norman now in a state of amazement.
“It was part of the deal with the jokers,” pleaded Paddy, “but it could have been worse, at first they wanted to call it The Haemorrhoids.”
“Oh that’s alright then said Norman,” now in sarcastic tone.
“Great, that is a right fucking load off my mind,” concluded Paddy. “A toast, the Two Buttocks. Nancy will sort out your wages; she is going to run the books for me.” Paddy shook both his new employees’ hands, but could not resist a peck on Nancy’s cheek. He then returned behind the bar, rang the bell and shouted, “Last orders at the bar please.” With only Norman and Nancy still in the pub, it was his way of dropping a hint that it was their round. Norman got the drinks in, Paddy said he could only accept a large scotch, they all laughed. The eager lovers knocked back their large Southern Comforts. Again they shook hands with Paddy before leaving.
Nancy had nominated where she wanted sex this night. She led Norman into her open plan lounge area; she lit a candle then pulled him down on top of herself and a large beanbag. Just as a week earlier almost to the minute, Norman zipped up his trousers as they kissed goodnight just inside the darkened hallway. They were again both satisfied.
On reaching home Norman opted for an early night, just shouting out, “Good night all,” as he made his way to the sanctuary of his room. As he lay in his bed, he practised how he would break his career news to Ernest and Katie, the sheer scale of the task put him to sleep.
Monday morning he was late getting up, he now starts work later than Ernest but earlier than Katie, so only just caught sight of her as he rushed down a coffee, “Hot enough to kill lesser men” he screamed. Noticing Katie has started to wear less now when it’s just the two of them in the house causes Norman some concern. What she does wear reminds him of a
documentary he once saw on women that sit behind windows in Amsterdam, offering sex. He thinks to himself, oh no, do I not have enough problems without this? He bolts out through the door, gazes at his watch, only to see
he is not now going to be late. “That pigging old clock in the bedroom, has given me a throat like Joe Cocker”, he mumbled to himself. He slowed his pace, he could now take time to think, and wander if he could be heading for another family upset, he felt uneasy. ‘Maybe I should have given Auntie Katie a good shagging this morning,’ he thought, ‘I did have the time after all, it would keep her sweet. Fucking women, he considered, why not.’ He concluded, ‘if she’s asking for it tomorrow she gets it.’ He chuckled away, feeling ashamed of his thoughts, as he waved to Nancy whilst passing by her office window.
That night with Ernest at the pub and Katie just off to the bingo, Nancy phoned. Norman was pleased to hear her strong sexy voice. “I am worried about what Ernest will feel, about the Hercules and me and you even,” he wined.
“Dearest Norman you have been hired as a doorman, you just leave the management of this situation to Nancy, got it,” she assured him. “Look, apart from our little secret, everything is sweet. Ernest and Katie will be fine. They hardly use the Hercules these days anyway and they will not go near the place if Paddy is not around, so relax.”
“You got it,” said Norman in an American accent.
“You have not said anything yet, have you?” asked Nancy. “Wish I knew how,” replied Norman.
“Fine then,” she said, “I will mention to Katie tomorrow about Paddy, handing over the
Pub to the jokers, you know his wife, the cancer and all that. How poor old Paddy needs some people he can trust to keep an eye on the place. I will tell her I am going to keep the books for him and ask her if she and Ernest would ask you to help poor old Paddy, by doing the door job.”
“You sort it, I will do it,” concluded Norman. “Call me tomorrow.” Norman tucked into some of Katie’s stew, took over the parlour table, poured a McNaughton’s Ale and gazed at the tele. He was happy at home now for the first time in his life.
After the phone call Nancy made her way to the Hercules, she knocked on the lounge bar entrance. Paddy let her in then bolted the door. He had given opening a miss on Mondays since trade fell away. A large oval table was covered in paperwork. The two sat down, it was an emotional meeting as there was history between them. “ I am a bit concerned, your relationship with the big fella, could give us problems with this lot, ” said Paddy,
pointing at the piles of scruffy paper work, covered in old scotch stains and fresh cigarette ash.
“I don’t have relationships,” pointed out Nancy. “You of all people should know that. So down to the business in hand.” They agreed she would be in charge of the pub side. Norman would answer to her, the bar staff would answer to him when she was not around. The place would only open
evenings from 7 and only if the jokers had done all the publicity. Paddy had made the flat upstairs self-contained and even soundproof when his wife first got ill. So Nancy was to let it out.
“No fucking students or unemployeds,” shouted Paddy. “And if you get nurses from round the corner, no fucking parties up there every night.”
“Of course not,” mocked Nancy, “we couldn’t have people laughing and drinking over a comedy pub could we.”
“Doctors, young doctors would be best they earn more money than
nurses,” replied Paddy now on a roll. “They reckon to work so fucking hard; they shouldn’t have the energy to enjoy themselves.” Nancy said she would put a notice up at the local hospital.
Paddy and his wife would not be far away; she had never given up her small council flat.
They had never married, “Too busy at first in the pub, then too quiet to afford it, then she became too ill, and that’s over twenty years,” reflected Paddy. “Second time round it was for both of us, come to think of it, not sure if she ever got a divorce. Good job I didn’t marry her perhaps.” Nancy dropped her head into her hands, she worried, managing this dinosaur’s business is going to be hard work she thought, still I owe him this and business is business.
Paddy concluded with his winding up plans, he would break the news to Ernest and the lads on cribbage night Tuesday. He had agreed with Charles at the Prince of Wales they could play out the season there. This Friday would be the farewell party night at the Hercules. Paddy would hand over the Pub on Saturday. He and Maureen had not lived there since she became confined to her bed and they had moved back into her small flat. Nancy would interview bar staff over the weekend, she would meet 10a.m. Sunday with the jokers, to lay down all the ground rules for their working together. That evening would be the first Comedy night at the Two Buttocks. With business concluded Paddy was eager to get back to Maureen.
It was still early enough for Nancy to join the Ladies at the local Bingo. She did mention to Katie that a meeting with Paddy had delayed her and she would tell all at work the next day.
Tuesday, first thing, Norman knew he was not late, having bought himself a massive wall clock that dominated his room and made him very conscious of time. Being unable to bin the old dressing table clock, he would use it as a
bookend, not that he had any books. At work this day he got a few waves from Nancy as he walked passed her office. He also got waves from Katie, seeing the two of them in the office together he felt embarrassed. One down, one to go he thought to himself.
That evening after Katie had gone off to the bingo, Norman phoned Nancy. “Did you get an adults permission to use the phone, “she enquired, laughing.
“I don’t know any,” snapped Norman.
“See you soon, I expect,” concluded Nancy as she hung-up.
Norman ambled round for his Tuesday night Sex, but first he wanted an up-date on the Hercules saga. Nancy obliged but not in that order.
“My pleasure before business,” she demanded.
She went on to explain that Ernest and Katie would now ask him to help out Paddy anyway, so all would work out just fine. They agreed to meet up at Paddy’s Friday night farewell party.
‘GOOD BYE I’LL MISS YOU’ read the homemade banner crooked above the bar.
“Shouldn’t be wasting money on an expensive sign like that,” shouted Nancy over at Paddy as he drank himself into a coma. “Could be your first job here Norman, to carry him out to a taxi later,” she added.
Nancy was right, both Ernest and Katie had asked Norman to look after the door for Paddy and he did have to carry him out to his taxi.
Norman was on overtime Saturday morning helping Paddy move out the last of his possessions. Nancy was there sorting out keys for everything, she found stocktaking with Paddy hard work. He wore sunglasses because of his hangover and kept falling over things.
At last by early evening all was sorted at the pub. Nancy now the key holder locked the main door. She and Norman were both tired; they agreed on fish and chips to be purchased and then eaten at her house.
As they sat down, Nancy served chilled white wine, lots of it. They enjoyed their first meal together. Nancy demanded some, “Serious sex” on the other beanbag; then sent Norman off home. They would meet later that evening at the Prince of Wales.
Norman was enjoying his new life-style and it was now acceptable for him to spend time with Nancy as they worked together. Katie commented that perhaps he would meet a nice young lady at the comedy nights and Ernest blamed, “The bloody Council,” for the closure of the Hercules.
That evening was busier at the Pub than was normal. With the Hercules no longer a locals’ pub, its few customers had moved on to the Prince of Wales. Charles the landlord loved it, wishing Nancy and Norman good luck, as they didn’t threaten his newfound trade. At the end of the evening, they went their separate ways. She reminding him first that he was expected the following mid-day at the Two Buttocks.
Sunday came, Norman knocked on the massive front door of the Hercules. It was mid-day and painters were desperate to cover up old signs. A new swinging sign had been hung up. Norman winced at the sight, yes it was TWO BUTTOCKS, and he was still shaking his head as Nancy opened the door. “Keys,” she snapped, “yours, you’re on time, in future be early.” She pulled him in through the door and kissed him, like he had never been kissed before. “Is this exciting Norman, or what!” she exclaimed. Come and meet the jokers. She led him through to the lounge bar, at the large table sat the Spin Doctor and Nigel. Nancy introduced the three. Both the jokers came from the North of England; Doc as he liked to be called warmed to Norman with his Midlands’ accent.
Nancy had taken care of all the paperwork long before Norman had arrived; he noticed Nigel the slightly taller of the two with multi coloured hair was a very nervous guy. He had sat with his thin legs almost double crossed and adjusted his heavy black framed glasses none stop at the table; this put Norman on edge with him.
“Right then, Doc and Nigel have lots to do, in oh! such little time and I have bar persons to sign up and train,” announced Nancy. “So! Norman the doorman, as there will be loads of strangers in and out, please give it code red on the security front.”
Chapter Three - The opening of the Two Buttocks
Like ants building a nest, the jokers set about turning the old Hercules pub into a comedy venue. The building was just perfect for the transformation; Norman was amazed when two guys with ponytails walked in with
chainsaws and turned two bars into one. A strange looking female with huge tits was putting up curtains everywhere with a staple gun. Long haired ex-public schoolboys hung spotlights from the ceiling and a bloke covered in tattoos drove everyone round the fucking twist, “One two, one two,” his testing call. “ Hawkwind used these speakers once.”
“Only once,” shouted back Doc.
Everything did in fact go like clockwork; at 7 there was a queue at the door. “Let them queue,” Nigel told Norman, looks great, there will be press here tonight, early cause it’s free drinks for them, don’t worry, comes out the door money, our treat.”
The night was sheer chaos; Doc and Nigel had pulling power. The local hospital had provided a high local turnout also. Well over a 100 paid entry on the night, the guest list just added to record takings at the bar.
Admissions had to be stopped at 10. Doc compared the evening he introduced a succession of unknown Stand-ups; Nigel as stage manager worked himself into neurotic state before leaving early. Doc referred to him as ‘The Man Who Fell to Earth.’
There was only one Stand-up known to this first night audience; a kiwi pretending to be an Aussie named Bungalow Bill stormed onto the stage at 10.15.
“You Whinging fucking poms,” he shouted at the crowd. Then opening a newspaper he proceeded to read out headlines, adding his thoughts on the issues.
“Pensioners say Council Tax too high, oh, what a fucking shame. If they don’t want to pay it, they should fuck off and live somewhere else. Try on the banks of the Ganges, no Council Tax there, you just poor your piss and shit in the river along with your garbage. Like you’re wanted here anyway. Stop fucking whinging coffin dodgers
Here’s another, firemen consider further strike action, what bollocks, I’ve seen that documentary, London’s Burning, get a real job guys.
We had to open this place tonight, as it’s the only night this year that that fucking Office is not on the tele. Strange statistic, 100% of people that watch the Office, don’t have a video-recorder, so they all had to go out and buy the D.V.D. I auditioned for the girl in the wheelchair part you know, equal opportunities and all that, I think Ricky Gervais was worried I would be too strong a character, I respect his honesty.
You do have some weird tele here though, the Royal Family, I channel hop a lot, first I thought it was a furniture ad; it’s just some whinging fucking poms; sit down comedy. I don’t get it.
What’s the difference between a carpet and a wank? You can beat a carpet, but you can’t beat a good wank.”
After many more insults, Bungalow Bill bowed out, the crowd were up for a great night and so they had one. Nancy, Norman and Doc had worked well together; the next comedy night would be Thursday. After Doc had left, Nancy showed Norman another location for sex. They then staggered off together, Norman just seeing Nancy safely to her front door, before tip- toeing back into the world of Ernest and Katie, now both fast asleep
Early next morning, as Norman burnt some bread for breakfast, Katie came down early. She was keen to know how the first comedy night had gone down at the old Hercules. Norman was very excited even telling her a few of the less blue funnies. She asked him if he would be interested in staying on at the brewery after the summer. “Just a general tidier-up,” she explained, “money’s not bad though and you would finish in plenty of time for your door job.”
Unable to reason at that time of the day, Norman replied, “Why not, thanks Auntie.” Katie smiled as she now hurried off to the bathroom.
Nancy needed now to speak to Norman at the brewery daytimes, as there were matters to update him on. There was no gossip about the pair, he was considered to be her go-for. She asked him to let the jokers into the pub that night for a couple of hours. They had some more work to do and wanted to do a few auditions. Nancy would drop by after bingo. It was 11pm. when she let herself into the pub, only Norman was still there. He sat watching news on the big screen. Nancy poured them both a large Southern Comfort. “Sunday already,” said Norman.
“No it’s fucking Monday,” replied Nancy, “pun intended.” She sat down with him. Cigarettes were lit. Norman grabbed the remote control, the big screen went blank. “Good shot,” said Nancy. “Here you go, a present.” She handed over a gift-wrapped box, Norman not really a presents man, was embarrassed. Nancy had to help him unwrap it.
“It goes with the job,” she answered, “but they offered to gift wrap in the shop, now will you shag me.”
As they locked up the pub, Norman pointed out to Nancy, that they had yet to have sex in the same place twice. “There isn’t time now Norman,” she replied in her mocking tone still fixing her clothes. They walked to her front door. She tidied up his thick hair with her hand and pushed him away in the direction of Ernest and Katie’s.
Tuesday and Wednesday with the exception of the gift of a mobile phone, were more of the same for Norman and Nancy. Thursday evening kicked off the first of four nights’ consecutive comedy at the Two Buttocks. It was during this stint that Norman started to get noticed. Many of the customers were coming back, there were many bar-staff, and Doc and Nigel had
friends that helped out. Even the lads from the brewery would stop for a chat with him as they passed by. Known now officially as Norman the Doorman, one or two ladies would hang around outside the door with him, some
evenings. Nancy would tease Norman over his, ‘Normie’s,’ as she called them.
The first full weekend of comedy was a huge success. Reviewers had been excited about the new comedy venue and their free drinks. Doc had
researched the area well before approaching Paddy at the old Hercules. The area was on the up; professionals were moving into now trendy ex-council tower blocks. They of course took the brunt of much of the humour at the Two Buttocks. “No pissing in the lifts, you lot, on your way home,” Doc would shout most nights as he wished all good night and begged them not to come back again. Nancy had let the flat to her head barman Patrick and his Girl-friend B.A. despite her being an Art Student and the most awful Irish Comedienne on the circuit.
The summer became routine for Norman and all those around him. The Thursday to Sunday comedy nights were established, with the odd extra one thrown in, August Bank Holiday Monday was a sell-out. Life at the brewery changed for him as the students went back to college. He got kept on,
mainly due to Lottery Lenny now having the hots for Katie.
Nights stood on the pub door soon became colder; Norman borrowed a night security coat from the brewery. He had from the onset listened to much of the comedy, it was very loud and easy to hear from outside. But as the winter weather forced him to stand just inside the door (with Nancy’s permission of course) he started to take note of the comedians’ mannerisms and developed his own style of humour.
Norman had now entered a world where everything was fair game for would-be comedians and of course there was, the comedienne. “Always one,” moaned Nancy, “they are just not funny, especially B.A. That Jo
Brand she’s not bad, they should get ‘er down here.” It seemed like every comedy observation seemed to be followed by, ‘How sad is that,’ Norman noticed and he soon went from living and breathing stand up to speaking its very language. It helped remind him there was a much bigger World than his, somewhere.
At the brewery he made them laugh, repeating material from the acts. At home he entertained Ernest and Katie. With Nancy he switched off, however she noticed he was more like Doc, Nigel and the acts, than he was her. He could no-longer look at things without seeing a funny side to them.
One night Norman answered so many questions whilst watching
University challenge, that Nancy tried seduction to put him off. She knew how clever he was and it added to his mystique and attraction. Their sexual encounters continued. He supported Birmingham City F.C. and asked Nancy if he could fuck her at half time when they were watching a televised match, she consented.
Nancy asked Norman if he would use a microphone to clear people out a bit quicker at closing time, he agreed. Doc and Nigel were against it, but when Norman started to throw in a few funnies this became a feature of the evenings, the crowd enjoyed it so it stuck. In the run up to Xmas Nigel became ill, the Two Buttocks had taken its toll on his health, so he reckoned, despite his theory of out of date Yoghurts being good for him. There were even jokes made about Nigel after he had gone back North to his parents for a rest and to work on his idea, ‘A Fumble in the Jungle,’ un-solicited for Channel 4. He was referred to as, ‘Neurotic Nigel’ by Doc who now
depended on Norman to help him out, Just as Norman depended on Patrick. With the arrival of winter Norman would sit by the cashier’s booth, just inside the main venue door. He now had a mike clipped to his shirt, a push button made him live. Being most nights the tallest person at the Two Buttocks and dressed in black suit and bow tie, he became master of ceremonies by default. At first introducing the compares, then introducing the acts if required. Doc found it easier to work with less people; he stopped booking compares and ran the shows with Norman. They worked well together. Doc was a very small guy, in his mid-thirties with fair thinning hair; he loved to dress up for the stage, had loads of energy and was an undiscovered comedy talent. He had lacked faith in himself and patience so moved into management. Now he had the power to control the fate of
others, just as others had once controlled him. He was a bitter man but knew his comedy. As agent to many acts and comedy venues he was now
discovered.
December brought new customers into the venue, as regulars attended parties elsewhere. It was hard to get acts some nights and it was like the Doc and Norman show, with the audience as their support. But it still worked, the
place was packed out with the seasons revellers anyway, ‘And good talent would have been wasted on such morons,’ Doc insisted as he got richer and Norman got funnier, Paddy now thought every day was his Birthday as Nancy updated him on the bar takings, Maureen was still dieing, Ernest had almost forgot his Nephew lived in the house; Katie was spending a small fortune trying to attract Norman with sexy underwear, whilst Nancy seemed in control of it all and it wasn’t even Xmas yet.
As the 25th of December got nearer Norman and Doc had to think on their
feet more and more. But the Xmas week brought out their best efforts. They put on comedy Karaoke it went down a storm. Then one night the most feared thing was happening live, with only a mystery top of the bill expected Norman’s phone rang. Bungalow Bill booked only because he owed Doc a favour was having a massive problem at home. He lived in digs in a posh flat in Golders Green, where he claimed, ‘Some guys pretended to be Jewish, just so they could wear a skull cap to hide their bald patch whilst chatting up the local Sheilas.’ Bill’s landlady was having a mid-life crisis. “She’s 50, I keep telling her she should have had this at least ten years ago,” said Bill, “she will not live till 100 anyway, she could drink and smoke for Israel.”
“If you can’t make it Bill,” insisted Norman, “your fucking nuisance of a landlady won’t be the only one having a mid-life crisis tonight.”
“I offered the Sheila a good shagging,” shouted Bill into Norman’s ear, “seem to make her worse though. I will get to you for that last spot, must go.”
Norman quickly relayed the troublesome news to Doc. He also proposed he devise a sketch for the two of them to do there and then. Doc nodded and with that, Norman picked him up like a puppet and strode onto the stage. Sitting down with Doc on his lap and his arm threaded up through Doc’s jacket, he looked into the eyes of his nervous dummy, “What’s up Doc,” he asked. The crowd were gob smacked as Norman bounced Doc on his knee. Lottery Lenny from the brewery helping out on security that night nearly fell off his stool. Doc’s friends working stage effects stood speechless in
anticipation of the pairs’ next move. Bar staff stopped serving and Nancy on a rare visit to the venue of an evening thought she was going to orgasm. Doc reached out to the table closest to the stage, he picked up a full pint of lager. He then passed it to Norman who slowly started to down it in one.
Then Doc spoke, “ Hello Boys and Girls are you looking forward to Xmas,” the crowd went for it and thanks to some great hecklers the routine with Doc the puppet and Norman the straight faced ventriloquist trying to keep some order went down well. When a lady insisted on trying to pull Doc’s trousers off Norman brought the act to an end, by admitting Doc was not really a puppet and he never really wanted to be a ventriloquist. No he
wanted to be a lumberjack, and he led the crowd into singing the lumberjack song. He retreated still carrying Doc like a puppet. “Thank god for Monty Python,” screamed Doc over the loud applause, “now will you fucking put me down.”
Nancy went over and hugged the pair she had tears rolling down her face. They had bought the time they needed. Norman had put Ernest’s Chas and Dave video on the big screen; they would only get away with this at Xmas. Norman’s phone rang; he rushed outside the pub to take the call.
“I’m just round the corner,” shouted Bill as his car screeched into sight. “I ended up giving her a good shagging Norman,” he yelled across the street, “it was the only way, and you owe me big time for that, she’s awesome man, hairs on her chest. I can never go home again.” He laughed and hugged Norman. Doc joined them outside.
Bill explained he had an idea for his entrance tonight, Norman agreed. He removed the mike from Doc’s shirt and pinned it on to Bill. The entrance began. They could be heard, but not seen inside the pub.
Norman, “Sorry sir, you can’t come in, we’re full up.” Bill, “Come on just a jar or two matey.”
Norman, “No come back, where do you think your going?” Bill, “I just want to check out the sheilas.”
Bill ran into the pub and made his way to the stage he let rip his catch phase, “Hello you whinging fucking poms.” The place erupted. Bungalow Bill now a minor television face held the audience through till closing time. He closed his act with a song, ‘Fuck off across the Mersey.’ Whilst
receiving a standing ovation he ran out, still screaming abuse. He drove off, on the way home phoning Norman, “I got to get home and shag the Sheila again,” he chuckled, “well it is Xmas, can’t have her feeling crook; gooday.”
The next morning, “What’s a good thing for a hangover Katie,” begged Norman.
“To drink too-much the night before,” she answered, dressed in a burgundy silk look dressing gown.
Norman was slumped over the dining table; the excitement of the previous evening had culminated with a bottle of Southern comfort and some quite violent sex with Nancy in the back yard of the pub. She called it the masonry position, “Missionaries should have taught this on their travels,” she had screamed.
Now to get into the brewery for just a half day as it was Xmas Eve. Katie brought a glass of water and told him the fresh air on the way to work would
also help. At the brewery to his relief, there were other casualties of the Demon Drink. Nancy had booked the day off as she did every year; she would spend hours sitting beside the grave of her late husband. Knowing of this spooked Norman.
The horn sounded at the brewery, cheers could be heard from the men. It was off to the Prince of Wales for their Xmas drink. In years gone by the Hercules was the chosen pub for this yearly binge. Norman tagged along, he didn’t want to let Ernest down and being family it meant a lot.
Norman slipped off after a couple of beers. He now felt better, so he grabbed a pie and chips on his way home. He set himself up at the dining table, poured a beer and switched on the tele. He presumed he was alone in the house, finished lunch, cleared away and then relaxed for a snooze in the Ernest chair right in front of the tele. After realising his needed to use a toilet he climbed the stairs and entered the bathroom. “Oh Norman,” Katie said, in a welcoming tone her nakedness just slightly blurred by the steam rising off her heavily scented bath water.
“So sorry,” replied Norman, “really sorry.”
Katie having dreamt of this moment, seized it, standing up in the bath, “Fuck me Norman, please, please,” she begged.
Norman had to think fast on his feet here, ‘If he refused, the
embarrassment it would cause, would mess the both of them up. After all she had done for him he owed her everything really. It was just a fuck.’
Chapter Four - Xmas is for giving
“Your room,” begged Katie. Norman led the way; Katie slipped into a black silk look dressing gown and followed him. He stood back in his room allowing her to enter; she drew the curtains before getting into the bed. The room was now dark enough to hide their blushes as they engaged in sexual foreplay. Norman sat on the bedside and fondled her breasts, he then stood up and undressed, not something he had time for when fucking Nancy. Being naked in bed was a first for Norman and a distant memory for Katie; this novelty factor heightened the event for them both, causing the pair to climax in record time. Norman lit a cigarette straight after. Katie told him to get some rest before his night’s work. She left the room with a silent grace; Norman felt no-less respect for her. He fell asleep and had to be woken by Nancy, on his mobile phone she gave him an earful. It was 6pm.Xmas eve and where the hell was he anyway. Norman made his peace and agreed to be there within 30 minutes. He showered, put on his doorman’ suit and strolled out of the house, “Have a great Xmas eve you two.” shouted Norman. Ernest was demolishing pie and chips. Katie was still in her room, she heard
Norman’s upbeat farewell and sighed with relief as she now prepared to wash away her memory of that afternoon.
Norman knew this was no time to reflect on his afternoon as he quickened his steps to the Two Buttocks. Once inside he got stuck in to the chaotic activities needed to get the venue open on time. He was not his usual self when Nancy handed over to him. She was going off for a few hours and would return about 11ish.
Norman noticed behind the bar was untidy; he hated it when staff left junk around. He went through it, an assortment of worthless lost property and ex-staff belongings. A scarf of a former feminist barmaid was hurtled into the bin. He recalled how she had stormed out while a comedian had made one too many sexist remark; a reference that she preferred Men to liquor. At the very bottom of the junk was a book, Norman picked it up carefully; it was an easy introduction to Zen. He looked inside the cover, where by hand was written, ‘To Nigel, the world is a funny place this may help you keep
laughing. Good luck the Doc.’ Norman waved the book at Doc, “Nigel’s left this book you got him,” he shouted over the music.
“Pity”, replied Doc. “he should have read it, could have helped him straighten out his fucked up life.”
“I will read it over Xmas, may I?” asked Norman. “That’s what books are for,” stated Doc.
Norman went through to the office. He placed the book in his draw for safekeeping. Perhaps it can help me straighten out my fucked up life, he thought to himself.
The venue would not open this night until eight. They had a late
extension for Xmas eve. Norman slowly started putting change into the bar tills, he was feeling fragile as a panic attack got hold of him. His thoughts slogged it out like two boxers, ‘I have just had sex with my Auntie, oh God, my Mum’s sister, that’s even worse. No my step Mums sister, that’s better. But it’s still my Uncles wife, only my step Uncle though, but I like him. Then there’s Nancy, what if Katie should tell her about us, what us? Katie and me or Nancy and me? What if Katie confesses to Ernest? What if Nancy tells Katie about us? Oh no this is the best one, Nancy tells Ernest, Ernest tells Katie. Or perhaps Nancy just tells Ernest, Ernest keeps quiet, and then Katie confesses to Ernest also.’ He lit a cigarette and drew hard, this slowed his thoughts down. ‘I could deny fucking either of them. Bollocks, what about me, why is it always about other people? Tomorrow how about that, Xmas dinner with Ernest and Katie, how will she act?’ He knew Nancy was to spend the day with her family. “Is this comedy?” he asked himself. Could I use this tonight, should I? This is life; if life isn’t funny then we would have to close down the venue.”
Norman now just numbed by his situation, made a strong coffee, lit
another cigarette and managed to clear his mind. Soon he was able to put his problems away for the evening as work took over his life.
Xmas eve. entertainment was well sorted out. Lots of Xmas nonsense, comedy twists to everything, prize draws, competitions, a comedy magician and two stand-ups. Norman would open the show with a short intro-spot; the Doc would compare. Nancy was returning to cash up most of the money, but would not hang around long. Norman would have to lock up and very late, as staff and the acts would expect a good late Xmas drink that night.
9 o’clock Norman left lottery Lenny on the door and after collecting a large scotch and a stool from the bar stepped up onto the stage. He placed the glass on a tall table to his left, lit a cigarette and just stared at the crowd. Doc watched on with great interest as he made some lighting changes. He respected Norman’s comedy and had considered managing him.
Norman produced from his large jacket pocket a red fez, his size and dress allowed him to do a Tommy Cooper impersonation. With one hand he
turned the stool upside down, “Just like that” he said. A mixed reaction from those that had noticed him. He pulled out a gun cigarette lighter, pointed it at the crowd, then he pulled the trigger, it produced a flame. He then put it back in his pocket, Doc created a gun shot sound, and Norman pretended he had shot himself in the thigh. Doc despatched onto the stage one of his helpers. She was stunning, dressed as a 60s’ magician’s assistant from her
seamed stockings upwards. “The lovely Marsha,” announced Norman. She knelt down, unzipped his trousers, placed her hand inside, and pulled out a white, limp object which she placed in her mouth. The crowd now cheered into a frenzied state. Marsha stood up; moving away from Norman to reveal it was a silk sheet she was pulling out of his pants. Having extracted it, she bowed. Norman did his zip up. Marsha threw the material over the stool. Norman stepped forward, grabbed two corners. To the amazement of the now captive audience, he shook the silk sheet side to side and just kicked the stool from under it, straight off the side of the stage and out of site. He then held up the sheet to reveal the stool had vanished. A smoke bomb added to the fact that most of the audience could not see that section of the stage caused confusion. Norman received a massive applause, some for his
Tommy Cooper con trick, more from those convinced he had made the stool vanish and many more just joining in. Marsha took her bows as she left Norman on stage. “The Spin Doctor, Ladies and Gentlemen, your compare for Xmas eve,” introduced Norman, as he genuinely limped off the stage as a result of kicking the stool with his shinbone.
Doc rather pleased at Norman’s success having part devised the routine, now called for silence. He wore a Vicars collar. “I will ask you all please to remember the Religious hypocrisy, I mean significance, sorry, we always mix up those two, at Xmas. Here in an inn of all places we can just imagine if Joseph and Mary should call here looking for shelter for the night. Having paid a tenner each to get in, some fucking Aussie behind the bar would tell them we don’t do B and B. If they asked for their money back, the doorman would throw them out, troublemakers aye! You see it wasn’t Joseph’s fault, in those days things were different, he should know with a beard like that,” Doc pointed out a man near the front. “You see Joseph and Mary were just going away for Xmas, we take it for granted. But just think, they couldn’t book a hotel on the Internet in those days. No they had to walk hundreds of miles, up to the receptionist, got any rooms tonight, no, alright we better go home, spend a quiet Xmas. Off they go. But Mary’s pregnant, lets try an Inn says Joseph, I want en-suite says Mary. Women aye! Some things never change, that reminds me I only came up here to introduce, a woman, and here she is Betsy Norfolk.”
Once described by a critic as the Queen of Monotone, Betsy took to the stage she started her routine as always. “Good evening, I’m Betsy Norfolk, well I’m Betsy and I’m from Norfolk. Of course most country girls are big old girls, but I was the last of the litter see.”
Norman didn’t worry about the trickle of blood running down his leg, he propped himself up against the bar to watch Betsy. She was the only woman he really fancied since being deported to London. It was her that coined the phrase, “If you don’t laugh I’ll get my tits out.” She was tall, appeared flat chested and wore skin-tight stripy tops. However she turned men on big
