This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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EBook Edition © NOVEMBER 2009 ISBN: 9780007343706

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With much gratitude to everyone who has ever made me laugh out loud, or told me a funny story that would not go away.

The original idea for this story came when I went to pick my sister up one day. As I turned into her cul-de-sac, I was amazed to see the corner house smothered from top to bottom in huge banners of every colour and description—complete with a massive photograph of a woman in the centre, her fist triumphantly in the air, and a caption saying:

Newly Divorced And Up For Anything!

It got me thinking about all the people I know who’ve been divorced, where there might be a stalker who can’t let go, or one of the party demands everything but the kitchen sink. When new relationships start and jealousy rears its ugly head, the ensuing bitterness can often create unforeseen circumstances, some tragic, some unbelievably funny. My own life, and my set of friends and family were a powerful inspiration for Ben’s uproarious account of life after divorce.

I have drawn on the hilarious incidents that happen in real life, to real people, in real situations. At first I put snippets on the website as a temporary relief from life’s hardships, a laugh a day to keep the doctor away. But, people loved it! They were signing up in great numbers, and so the publishers in their wisdom decided it must be lengthened into a book, and here it is!

In Divorced and Deadly, you’ll meet a bunch of characters; some you want to strangle, others you want as your best friend, and some will make you laugh out loud in a crowd, on a train, or just walking along the street.

Divorced and Deadly comes straight out of life; mine included, because anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m a poor diva who causes chaos and destruction wherever I go! I’ve also got a wicked and vivid imagination, which produced my two crazy, hopeless characters: Ben Buskin, who writes the diary, and his hapless friend, Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants.

Many thanks to my unsuspecting friends and my wonderful, crazy family; not forgetting all the poor innocents I’ve sat opposite on a train or a bus. I’ve been the fly on the wall, recording every hilarious minute.

So enjoy! I’ve got files of laughter and details of amazing antics that will make you cry with frustration and laugh ‘til you ache. So never fear, because there’s more to come! And who knows you might even recognise yourself in there!

Cover Page

Title Page

Note to Readers

Dedication

Bedford October, Monday

Bedford October, Thursday

Bedford October, Friday

Bedford October, Monday

Bedford October, Saturday

Bedford October, Sunday

Bedford October, Saturday

Bedford November, Sunday

Bedford November, Saturday

Bedford December, Tuesday

Bedford January, Thursday

Bedford March, Saturday

Bedford April, Tuesday

Bedford April, Monday

Bedford June, Wednesday

Bedford June, Saturday

Bedford July, Thursday

Bedford August, Saturday

Bedford September, Friday

On The Road September, Saturday

Blackpool Spetember, Sunday

Blackpool September, Sunday Night

Bedford September, The Following Saturday

Also by Josephine Cox

About the Publisher

BEN’S DIARY
BEDFORD OCTOBER, MONDAY

I’m 36 years old; handsome and fit, with a shock of rich, dark hair and a pair of kissing lips to die for. I’m not as tall as I’d like to be, nor am I rippling with chest muscles. But I reckon I’m a dead-ringer for Hugh Grant, (only I do believe I’m a far better actor than he is, on account of I played a hippo in All Creatures Great and Small in the school play. Anyone with brains knows how difficult it is to play a demanding role!).

So, having explained what a real catch I am—will someone please tell me why it is that today my divorce became absolute and I’m out in the cold?

The dreaded Laura doesn’t want me any more, but doesn’t want anyone else to have me, so now the women who are aching to make a play for me are all too nervous to make the first move, in case Laura rips out their eyes. The plain truth is (though it rankles me to say this) I have been well and truly dumped! And to be honest I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or starve the cat for a day…actually no, scrub that last one. (Like all felines, she can be vicious. The last thing I need right now, is for her to leap on me claws out, from a great height.)

I’m so humiliated. I feel that everybody’s laughing at me. You know when you walk past somebody and they pretend not to have seen you? Or you walk away and the sniggering starts? I’m feeling paranoid!

Huh! Call themselves friends, I don’t think so!

Somehow or other I have to regain my confidence. So, with that in mind, I made a list of things I had to do:

1. I will not sign on at the gym. (Firstly, because I’m a bit short of the old readies, and secondly, I was told that too much exercise can ruin your love life.) Mind you, what does Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants know about anything?

2. I will smoke cigars instead of cigarettes. I’ve seen that old film with Jimmy Cagney; smoke curling up and away, one eye half shut like he’s winking. (Truth is, I reckon he can’t see a damned thing through that smoke!) No matter, because does he look the cool dude or what?

3. When the opposite sex look at me in that certain way… (you know, when they’re eyeing you up!) I shall cunningly avert my gaze and play hard to get. (The real reason being that I’m a bit short-sighted, so I need to look where I’m going.)

4. I will take two vitamins a day: one evening primrose, because apparently it makes your skin smooth and your eyes bright. Oh, and one large ginko biloba tablet. (Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants said he sprouted hairs on his chest after only one course.) I’m not worried about a hairy chest, but if I’m lucky, who knows what else might pop up?

5. I will avoid contact with Laura. It’s my right! After all, it wasn’t me who did the dumping!

6. Oh, and because I’m not attending a gym, I will admire myself in the mirror every morning, and do a bit of flexing and puffing, and whatever else I might need to, in order to keep up my macho image. (Yes, that an’ all!)

Right! That’s enough making lists. I have to concentrate my mind for the trauma ahead.

I know for certain that Laura is laughing behind my back. I sneaked past the house earlier on today and judging by the massive placards and banners plastered all over the front of the house, on the gate and down the street—she’s having a ball, proclaiming to all and sundry in large, colourful letters that she is:

Newly Divorced And Up For Anything

‘Up for anything’. What’s that supposed to mean, as if I didn’t know. This is her way of taking a snide jab at me, the spiteful cow! She’s never forgotten that one miserable time when I lost it…if you know what I mean? I tried to explain it to her, but she was having none of it…you know how women can whine when they want to…‘You just don’t love me any more, that’s the truth isn’t it?’

And, no, that is not the truth! The truth is, I’d been out with the boys and drunk myself under the table…well it was Trevor’s stag-night after all, and besides, I reckon Wayne spiked my drinks because his wife fancies me. (If truth be told, it’s the same old story of jealousy and spite!)

All the same, if I thought Laura still had lingering feelings for me, I might lie through my teeth and tell her I deserve everything she throws at me, and that I’ll never go anywhere without her again. The thing is, I still love her you see…or I think I do. Or maybe I don’t. God, she’s right! I’m just a hopeless mess.

I’m no angel. She knew that when she married me. I’ve never claimed to be anything other than an absolute rogue, and I won’t apologise for that. In my book, women have a role to play in the home and bed, while every man on God’s earth has a God-given right to play the field if he wants to. I mean, where’s the harm, tell me that?

Would you believe, she even went so far as to suggest I might be unhinged. Well, I’ve got news for her. It’s not me who’s unhinged, it’s her!

Talk about over reacting. I mean, when she found me in our bed with another woman she threw me out! I suppose it was inevitable. Mind you, Laura didn’t even give me time to explain. Y’see, I didn’t know who the woman was. I couldn’t even recall whether I picked her up at the pub, or rescued her from the bus stop when her bus was late. Anyway, suffice to say we ended up in bed, and Laura found us. Worse luck!

There was no way she would listen to reason. She just threw all my clothes out on the street and me with them. I don’t know what happened to the girl, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she wasn’t dead and buried under our garage floor.

Honestly! Laura just went crazy. Totally and absolutely out of control, like frothing mad. It was really off-putting.

And it was the coldest night imaginable, and there I was, stark-naked except for my odd-coloured socks (that’s another thing! How she manages to put four pairs of socks into the washing machine and lose one sock from each pair, I will never know).

I kid you not! That night, I saw a side to her that I’d never seen before, and never want to see again. It was not a pleasant sight.

I mean, what’s got into her? She didn’t flare up like that the time she caught me snogging her best friend, Shelley. Instead she gave Shelley a black eye before booting her out on her ear, yet she made me suffer for months before my penalty was served! (It goes without saying, Shelley is not her best friend any more.)

In fact, Shelley is nobody’s best mate, especially now, when all the women in the street have it in for her. Mind you I’m not surprised, because they all fancied a tumble with me, and Shelley beat them to it. Lucky me, eh?

Our marriage should have ended there and then, but Laura forgave me in the end. So what made her end it, just after half an hours’ harmless frolicking with a stranger I’d only just met?

I can’t believe how Laura reacted. I mean! There was no need to go berserk. I kept telling her, it was all just a bit of fun, that’s all it was.

Well, I mean to say, I can’t help it if I’m irresistible to women, can I? We all know some men have it and some don’t. I just happen to have it.

I am no longer married. Sadly, I’ve had to move in with my parents, and yes, they did give me a hard time. ‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ that was Dad. ‘When will you ever learn?’ that was Mum.

And as if that wasn’t enough, they’d been gossiping with the dog about their disapproval of my nocturnal goings on. So he took it upon himself to sink his canines into my leg and draw blood. (I’ll get him for that when they’re not looking!)

Mind you, I can’t really blame him, the poor sod had ’em chopped off last week, so now his days of impressing the pretty thing with his massive ego and other jangly bits are well and truly over.

Hell’s bells, I’ve just had a frightening thought…were they planning to do the same to me? Like creep up on me while I was asleep, and nip my pride in the bud! (Dad won the neatest bush competition last year, so he really knows his way around the garden shears.)

You probably think I’m paranoid, and you’d be right. I wouldn’t put it past them to rob me of my manhood. The thing is, they’re in their sixties now and have probably forgotten what joy it all is.

Anyway, I don’t plan to stay there long; although I have to admit, it’s a good gaff: no rent, hot meals provided, bed changed regularly, with clean shirts and underpants on hand.

I can’t help but wonder if Dad’s feeling put out, ‘You’ll be wiping his backside next!’ he snapped at Mum the other day, ‘And why is it he always bags the bathroom first?’

Huh! I can answer that…it’s because Dad has a nasty habit of leaving his false teeth on the sink after he’s washed them; it’s unnerving, seeing his false teeth grinning at me when I’m on the throne.

‘C’mon our Ben.’ That’s Mum again. ‘You’d best get off or you’ll be late.’ I argued a bit and wolfed down my hot crumpets oozing with butter and jam, while she hovered over me with a bag of goodies. ‘I’ve packed you some nice ham sandwiches,’ she cooed. ‘Oh, and there’s a bottle of Lucozade in there, it’ll keep your pecker up.’ (Does she know something I don’t?)

Well anyway, there I was, on my way up the street, swinging my goodies like a kid off to school. I wondered why she didn’t put me in short pants and get me a cap with a badge!

Then, as if things weren’t bad enough, I saw that twerp from number fourteen—Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants. I have to say, I’ve never seen such an unholy mess—long and limp with a sprout of hair on top and short trousers at the bottom; he’d be a real attraction at Madame Tussauds.

He ran as fast as he could to catch me up. ‘God! You walk fast, don’t you?’ he said, breathlessly running alongside, ‘I thought I’d never catch up!’

All the way to the bus stop he asked questions, ‘Where’s your car?’

‘It went in for a service and they’ve discovered it needs new brake pads. Hopefully, I should have it back tomorrow.’

‘Ah, well, if you ask me, it’s all a con.’

‘Is that so?’ If he doesn’t clear off soon, I swear I’d smack him one! Either that or I’d tell my mum and she’d give him what for.

‘Think about it.’ Like a dog with a bone, he is. ‘You’ve never noticed anything wrong with your brakes at all, have you?’

‘Not that I can remember, no.’

What the hell was I talking to him for? It only encouraged him.

‘There you are then!’

‘Where am I exactly?’

‘Well, like I say…you’ve been conned. There’s nothing wrong with your brakes at all.’

‘Isn’t there?’

‘No. You see, what they’ll do is whip ’em off. One of the blokes will have ’em away, and before you know it, there they are…’

‘Where are they?’ Talk about being a glutton for punishment.

‘On the stall at a car-boot sale o’ course!’

‘Really?’ No wonder he’s called Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants.

His tongue was still rattling ten to the dozen when the bus arrived. Pushing me aside, he climbed on, while I pretended to tie my shoe. When the bus pulled away Dickie started waving and yelling and telling them to stop because they’d left me behind. (Thick as a plank or what!)

The conductor was in no mood for his antics. I expect he was wondering why I was smiling after being left behind. Good man, that conductor! The thing is, I’d rather be late than sit next to Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants all the way to work.

After I’d thrown what was left of my little-boy’s lunch, I started to wonder…what was going to happen to me now? How will I get over Laura, especially as Shelley won’t have anything to do with me after all the goings on.

And how long will I have to stay at my parents’ house?

A long time I reckon, because Laura fleeced me good and proper, my Ford Focus is about to give up the ghost, and all I’ve got is a fiver in my back pocket and exactly four pounds and sixty pence in my bank account.

Still, I’ve got my magnetic looks, and I still know how to make a lady feel good.

Then I noticed a woman looking at me. She was tall and blonde with legs all the way up to her chin.

Now she’s started walking towards me! Keep calm, Ben. Play it cool…cool now. I said, ‘Hello…yes, did you want something?’ Realising I sounded like Dickie Manse, I gave her my best, whitest smile.

‘Look…’ she pointed downwards.

I looked down and saw nothing untoward, except a slight stirring.

‘Hope you don’t mind me saying…I just thought I’d tell you that your shoelaces were undone.’ She walked straight into the open arms of a man who was running up to meet her. She gave me this bemused little smile as he walked her away.

I could hear the pair of them sniggering all the way down the street. Not that I cared a toss. I didn’t fancy her anyway.

I’ve decided to look on the positive side.

What’s the worst that can happen? I mean, I can handle Dickie Manse brains-in-his-pants, a sniggering blonde, a bad divorce, stolen brake pads, clean underpants and a bottle of Lucozade to ‘keep my pecker up’.

It’ll take more than that to bring Ben Buskin to his knees.

I was determined to come out on top. Yes! Just you see if I don’t.

BEDFORD OCTOBER, THURSDAY

Hello diary, my old friend.

Well, like I’ve always said, you never know what’s round the corner. I had a couple of surprises today; both involving women of course. One was a bit unnerving, and the other positively amazing. I still don’t quite know what to make of it all.

I reckon I must have done something very wrong in a previous life, or I wouldn’t be punished the way I’m being punished now.

I arrived at the station at nine a.m., right on time. Most times the damned train is late, and other times I find myself stranded on some scary platform in the middle of nowhere! Anyway, not this time; although the train driver must have had an argument with his wife, because he was whizzing over the rails like a demented hooligan.

‘I think I’m about to be sick, dear!’ The fat woman sitting next to me had already fallen asleep on my shoulder, but it wasn’t her fault, as she had a droopy neck; or so she told me when I shook her awake.

‘You’d best sit up,’ I told her encouragingly, ‘…I’ll see if I can find the conductor.’ The last thing I wanted was to turn up for work with a jacket coated in the remains of her breakfast!

‘Give her a sick bag!’ The conductor was none too pleased, and neither was I.

‘Give her one yourself!’ I mean…you can’t let the buggers get away with it, can you?

Anyway, to cut a long story short, she got her sick bag, and I got as far away from her as I could; though she kept looking at me with a peculiar glint in her eye. ‘Sorry dear,’ I wanted to say, ‘but I’m not that desperate.’ At least, not yet! How dare she?

What’s more, a muscled-up weirdo with a crew-cut on the next seat kept eyeing me up. I nearly asked her what her game was!

Thank God I got to my station unmolested…life is a terrifying lottery, don’t you think?

The van was waiting to collect me as I came out of the station. ‘Good morning, Ben, how was your journey today?’ Dressed in a long, white overall and smelling of dog-chuckles, Poppy is a real sweetie; though you wouldn’t want to kiss her after she’s been canoodling with the canines.

Feeling sorry for myself, I climbed in. ‘It’s been one of them journeys from hell,’ I moaned. ‘The train driver was hell bent on breaking every speed limit in the book, and some woman was threatening to spew up all over me.’ I gave her all the gory details, ‘And would you believe the conductor had a go at me when I refused to take her the sick bag!’

‘Really? And what did you say to that?’ she asked. Poppy can be such a trial at times.

‘What do you think I said? I calmly reminded him that I was a mere passenger, and that it was his duty to “give her one”!’

Poppy started laughing. Honestly! Is it me, or has the whole world gone completely mad?

As we drove along, I took a sneaky look at her. Some people say Poppy is quite pretty, but I can’t quite make up my mind. I suppose with her wild, curly hair and those long, blonde lashes over sapphire-blue eyes, there might be something cute about her.

But then, who am I to say? She’s so preoccupied with her dungarees and other people’s animals; I can’t imagine her being dressed to kill, or rolling about in bed playing catch me if you can with another human being. And she would never flaunt herself naked in a see-through negligee…or would she? I’d better watch out. There I go again with the daydreams!

‘What are you staring at?’ Poppy asked.

‘What d’you mean? I wasn’t staring at you!’ I can sound really wounded when I put my mind to it.

‘Well it certainly felt like it!’ She flew the car round the bend at a hundred miles an hour.

Leave her alone, Ben, I told myself, before she kills the pair of us.

‘I’ve already said…I was not staring at you!’ I reacted with a cutting remark.

‘No need to be catty.’ She seemed hurt.

‘What do you mean…catty?’ I said. ‘I’m a man for heavens’ sake. I couldn’t be catty if I tried. The trouble is that’s all you’ve got on your mind…cats and dogs, and things that cock their leg over…other things.’

‘What other things?’ Poppy wanted to know.

‘I dunno…plant pots, trees, and things like that.’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ Poppy obviously didn’t think so!

‘Leave me alone, I’ve had a bad enough morning already!’ I was not in a pleasant frame of mind.

‘Oh what! You mean you forgot to feed your Mum’s goldfish?’

She was giving me that kind of grin she gives the animals when they want feeding, I half expected a meatychew thrust into my mouth, thank you very much!

‘You know what’s wrong with you, Ben?’ Poppy went on.

‘No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.’ Why did I say that?

‘You need to chill out.’ Poppy said.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I put on my most outraged voice.

Putting the fear of God into me, she screeched the van to a halt in the middle of the street, ‘You listen to me…’ Yanking on the hand-brake she swung round and looked me in the eye, ‘You’re on edge all the time; it’s not good for you. People have heart attacks and everything, being on edge like that.’

‘I can’t help it. I’ve got a lot to contend with.’ My mum was right. I really can be sulky at times.

‘You might be surprised to know this, but you are not the only one!’ Poppy complained.

‘What?’ I didn’t know what she was on about.

‘I said, you are not the only one who has a lot to contend with.’ She was really ranting!

‘Is that so?’ Now I was fed up.

‘What about me?’ Poppy went on.

‘I don’t know. What about you?’ I really hadn’t a clue.

‘You know…’ Poppy said mournfully, ‘…my favourite dog passed away last week, and you never once said you were sorry.’

‘That’s because I wasn’t.’ It’s true! ‘That dog was not even yours. What’s more, he was mad as a march hare…eight times last week it escaped and I was the one who had to catch it and bring it back…plus I got bitten twice for my trouble and had to have a jab.’ I couldn’t believe we were arguing about a mad dog!

‘Don’t be soft! A jab won’t hurt you, will it? And besides, you were the only one available to go after the poor thing. Everyone else was busy hosing out the kennels after that bug epidemic.’ Poppy could be really verbal!

‘All right, but losing one dog in the universe does not give you as much to contend with as I have.’ I had to assert myself.

‘Oh no? Well, what about my mother?’ Poppy gave me a look.

‘What about her…and don’t you think we’d best get going or we’ll be late. Don’t forget the accountant is due in today.’ And guess who had to deal with him—yours truly!

‘I haven’t forgotten.’ Poppy sounded smug.

‘Let’s get going then.’ The morning was definitely not getting any better!

She didn’t get going until the driver in the car behind rammed his fist on his horn, and then a milk float and a bread van drew up behind us and soon there was a whole mob of vehicles all lined up and baying for blood.

And even after we drove away, she had no intention of letting me off the hook.

‘I’ll have you know, my mother is the mother from hell!’ Poppy complained.

‘Really? In what way?’ I didn’t particularly want to pursue the conversation, but I couldn’t believe her mother was worse than mine.

‘She vets all my boyfriends.’ Poppy said.

‘I didn’t know you had any boyfriends.’ I almost laughed.

I got the evil eye, ‘And why shouldn’t I have boyfriends. Am I ugly? Tell me the truth; do you think I’m ugly? You do, don’t you…think I’m ugly?’ Her voice was suspiciously shaky.

‘I never said that.’ Honest!

‘But you meant that,’ she sniffed.

‘I didn’t.’ What else could I say?

‘Liar!’ Poppy was almost in tears.

When we arrived at the kennel gates I couldn’t get out of the van quick enough to open them. ‘It’s all right,’ I called as she prepared to stop and collect me again, ‘I’ll walk up…clear my head.’

‘Please yourself!’ With the same death wish as the train driver, she slammed her foot down on the accelerator and shot off up the lane, sending showers of gravel behind her.

‘DAMNED LUNATIC! YOU COULD HAVE BLINDED ME!’ I yelled.

She didn’t hear me. Well, I knew that, or I wouldn’t have shouted, would I? I mean…I’m not harbouring a death wish, well, at least not yet.

Oh yes, and what were the ‘surprises’ you might ask.

Well, as you might have guessed, I manage a kennel for some rich guy who has a string of them all over the UK. He has a big white house on a cliff-top in Spain, a grand mansion in Milton Keynes and a boat in Newquay. Huh! alright for some!

I’m learning the ropes so I can achieve fame and fortune; though so far it’s been an uphill struggle.

While I was preparing the books for the accountant, I had a visitor. Imagine my astonishment when I looked up and saw her draped in the doorway, half-naked boobs peeping out like fat puppies from a sack, and her cheap, heady perfume blocking my common sense. ‘SHELLEY! What are you doing here?’ In the midst of chaos, I always managed to find a semblance of authority.

‘I came to see you,’ she purred, stepping closer.

Backing away, I told her in no uncertain terms, ‘Haven’t you women done enough damage? I’ve lost my home and my marriage, and now I’m back with my parents who think I still need my nose wiping. Thanks to you lot, my life’s a mess and there’s no way out.’

She didn’t answer. Neither did she show any remorse, the spiteful cow. Instead, she sauntered right up to me; thrusting her large, fleshy boobs into my chest and wrapping her snake-like arms round my neck. She kissed me full on the lips…right there, tongue out, tonsils quivering, with four kennel-girls and the dog-walkers staring in at the window.

‘GET OFF ME!’ Blushing to the roots of my hair, I shoved her away, masterfully taking hold of her arm to march her out the door.

‘You can throw me out of your office, but you will never be able to push me out of your life,’ she warned. ‘You’re a free man now. You and I belong together, and I won’t let you go, Ben. It’s no use you fighting me.’ With that she blew me a kiss and wiggled away down the lane and out of sight.

‘Clear off! Haven’t you lot got work to do?’ The kennel-girls and dog-walkers were still there, peering in the window and giggling crudely.

‘Cor, just think, Ben…’ That was Poppy with her nose pressed so hard to the window it was covered in a film of snot, ‘…that Shelley is head over heels in love with you. I reckon you could have asked her to turn somersaults and she would have done, right there on the spot.’

‘Huh!’ That was the new boy, Andy. ‘If you ask me, she’s anybody’s!’ He gave one of the idiot grins he’s getting known for. ‘I don’t think it’s you, Ben. I think she just wanted to play, and d’you know what? If I’d been brave enough to give her the nod, I bet you, she’d have been all over me…’

Well, that was it! I just lost my rag, ‘What d’you think this is…a bloody peep-show…GET BACK TO YOUR WORK, THE LOT OF YOU!’

Well, I never…they all shot off in different directions. So! I do have a masterful streak when I make my mind up.

So, maybe from now on they’ll learn to respect me.

Not so! Because that same afternoon, I was preparing to leave, when I had another visitor, unannounced and baying for blood, ‘YOU FILTHY TWO-TIMING NO GOOD BAGGAGE!’

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Divorced and Deadly

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