Trisha's Tale (Our Trisha)

Tricia’s Tale

Part 1

The opiate addicted Toxteth Trisha, is a cleaner at her local hospital, when she can turn up. She don’t do shifts any more. She did do shifts. She pretends to be a Senior Nursing manager and ex 80’s pop star with green hair, to her misfit online friends. She looks like Cilla Black on crack on a good day, or a ginger Lily Savage on crack on a bad day. When she does manage a shift, she tries to thieve from the pharmacy or wherever drugs are stored. She has been known to steal drugs from patients whilst on a cleaning work shift, sneak off to the toilet, crush the stolen drugs into a powder, and SNORT it. Boy does it help her get through her SHIFT. The trouble is, she doesn’t sleep so well at night, as she is buzzing for 48 hours or more. It tires the poor lass out, as she isn’t getting any younger, must be knocking 50 now innit.

It is just after 10.30pm on an average weeknight. Trisha is on a come down from such a hard day at work, as she doesn’t work night SHIFTS anymore. She logs into JC from her Toxteth flat on stolen wifi from a rare remaining neighbour. Miserable and clucking, the sourpuss is suffering withdrawal symptoms of some sort, and rants and raves at her misfit online friends. She has a very nice little flat in the quaint little terraced street in Toxteth where she has lived all her life. Her neighbours either side are derelict houses. More than half the street is derelict. She has a nice little garden for the mange dog. It’s very quiet along the street as no one lives there hardly, but the crack dens further down can get a bit rowdy at times.
After a rant and rave on JC with her online misfit friends, begin the night time opiate sessions, Thomas De Quincy eat your heart out. Trisha walks the streets for money to help pay for her addictions. Age is catching up, she is losing her looks, she can’t earn so much out there as before. She has to settle for a very low standard of punter. All she gets now is blokes like Alfie 2 Bob, hiding behind his sunglasses, with his bald head and Ford Fiesta watching from afar. Beggars can’t be choosers. Where Sheil Road and Molyneux Road meet appears to be the epicentre of her operations.

It is just after 11.30pm on an average weeknight in Sheil Road in Kensington Liverpool, a woman is leaning into the window of a parked up red Ford Fiesta which suddenly reverses and pulls into a darkened car park – she follows and gets in. Alfie 2 Bob is sat there, all SNORTED up. “Show me your tits or fuckoff” says Alfie 2 Bob. His beautiful speaking manner and received pronunciation being a little out of place in Kensington, Liverpool, at this time of night. Trisha not wanting a fuss began to do as she was told. She had found as a veteran of decades of hanging out with strange blokes in cars it’s best to be obedient. The punter is also more inclined to pay. She started to get her tits out as she didn’t want to fuckoff, well not just yet anyway. She started to remove her top. Alfie 2 Bob stopped her and said “Wait, just after I snort this”