The Writers' Circle

Junk Trifle synopsis

Plot and characters

The characters are all misfits. Completely individual, odd and unacceptable they invite you in to a fantastic scenario which is undetermined, feisty and not short of a trifle. Rightfully fuelled with frequent discussion of a sexual nature, debate, swearing and disagreement highlighting the myths, and adventurously displaying some turbulent attitudes which manifest themselves between the issues surrounding class, race, sex and age.

Simone
A bit of a tart (apparently). Philanderous and precocious when she's had a few too many. Often sits upon the laps of unsuspecting gentlemen leaving them to wince and quiver embarrassingly.  She  gyrates upon the tables too wiggling her torso for all to see. Loudly she states things that are offensive to the public and appears unruly to those who barely know her. Some might say that she is too trusting, others not enough.
Of appearance she's five nine, curvaceous, high heels, some might say attractive what with her Blue eyes contrasting her brown skin, she speaks with a lisp and stands out like a sore thumb, a Brummy though she is and will remain stating: "don't like that foreign shite" and "yo get me some fags from the Paki shop innit!" You wouldn't think it for her figure but she's got four kids Tamika, Tmone, Shakira and Chenise. She's 36.
What more can I say? Big earrings, Loves cock. What more could you ask for?

John
He's awkward, nervous and embarrassed about sexuality, roves on about Manga, war hammer and Scifi- you know the type. On his arm a pretty puppet Jane only a friendly acquaintance mind. He rants and raves about morality without realizing and there's always a tone of irony about what he's saying. Leather trench coat with a job in Sainsburys' not living up to his rock star image, however a likeable character, just a bit of a geek- cant get away from those discussions about internet forums and war hammer. Asexual and not in the slightest sensual, five seven fattish, about twenty five, bristly and balding prematurely poor sod. He'd say "Steven Fry is an absolute legend."

Jane

She just nods, and shakes nervously half smiling expressing only her gummy side yet her beauty shines through. 24, cute, a bitty dippy and has pink hair. She's from Dudley and she's here with John. That's all you need to know.

Popova

Black Russian guy. Confused with traits of a personality disorder some might say, reads a lot but not much else really, doesn't dress to impress- well his tastes are certainly not conventional as such. Certainly a mysterious past, most beautiful and intelligible. A mixture of nationalities, a cluster of languages and he has a vast plethora of knowledge which never really met its potential to transgress any further. He's in the wrong class here it just doesn't permeate. Brought up in a far continent, raised by parents of contrasting nationalities ended up in the West Midlands an infectious laugh clouded by darker connotations. 6'1, 55, dark and handsome, lonely very lonely. He doesn't speak much.
He seems to be a bit of an old school fag at times my doesn't ever place emphasis on his own sexuality. My guess is that he's lost someone.

Pat
A feminist from Bromsgrove living in Redditch town, brown clothes and short hair. She doesn't look like a bloke but says the builders were cussing her. When the plumber came over to fix her pipes she asked  'Derek's drains plc' for a female plumber instead. She always on about that bloody feminist shite, but never leaves Redditch. She likes reading Sarah waters, but hates her ex girlfriend, she also has a daughter who's married but they seldom make contact because her dykey ex girlfriend made Pat split up with Dad. Pat's really caring underneath the severe exterior, she's just been hurt a lot in life. She has a cat named Boadicea. She's coming up to her 60th birthday, but her skin is still youthful. She doesn't 'like' many things and often gets pissed up at home, but is generally quite conservative. She looks down on anyone without wrinkles- her eyes do the talking. There's Jewishness somewhere in the blood, she's 5'4 wishes she was taller and is only open to talking about anything that doesn't outwardly involve emotions.

Tallulah Trash

And there's...me Im Trash or Tallulah, both if it make your happier for saying it all at once but the other way round. I have failed miserably at most things, I cannot stand not being the centre of attention and that makes me angry. I grew up on a Trailer in Kentucky. My Mom was never really with it. I've seen all this shit, nobody has ever cared about me in the way that I wanted to be cared about so I don't care. I've got tattoos and I've been there, seen it, dunnit and got the fuckin Tee Shirt! And yeh so what? Come on assholes- wanna see me shit?? Shit all over you and mix it with my piss fuckers!! Yeh.
Im a  sexy all American white girl and proud to be that all American juicy shizzle... there's nothing quite like a Mc Donald's. Oh Yeaaah! My ass is round and my waist is thin. Im living life the way I want it to be lived. Im doing it for the thrill, Im doing it for the kill, Im hoping you'll understand. I moved to a crappy little town in the ghetto of the West midlands. Its called Wolverhampton, I met some fucking retard on a chat site and just wanted to get away so they put me on this like council list thang, and I got a place and now Im here, forever probably. My Mom's English so I gots dual nationality so that's how come I gots citizenship. I got on the bus an hour or two ago with these losers along the Dudley crappy road we crashed, I somehow think Im gonna survive, but I don't know what's happened to the rest.
'Simone, John Jane Pop, Pat!'

Introduction

It was a lucid afternoon in Birmingham. Pink fluffy globules formed clouds of crap and pollution in the evening sky. Ah searched wide and far for a used bus ticket a day saver with red bold day saver lettering. The street sweepers in their street sweeping mobiles had already been to my spot where ah found a biz of treasure before, they had left nuttin but a bleak patch of clean amidst a great patch of dirrrty. I sure was pissed! I werent so pissed at them here street sweepers so much as I were pissed about the government, the authorities, the fuckin assholes (including them bouncers that threw me outta that club on Broad Street for dry humping some half assed chick last week) Fuck man. All ah wanted was a free ride. 

I took a peak at the station, New Street they called it. It was full and there had gotta be some free fayre scuttling round on the floor, but they all jus stared at me, like as if Id done something wrong, spose they saw me with my eyes poised to the floor, sneakin about. Can you believe that when ah sat down I was accused of being a junkie.? "oi love" said some Brummy dude "yo cant s(h)it down in e'er."To which I replied "uh why-uh the fuck NOT?" I wasnt sorry I'd cussed the old dude mind, he said it was illegal to loiter in public places and that if anyone sat there it was not allowed just incase they was a junkie.

Ah hate rules, ah hate peoples sometimes, dont wanna kill no one, but its them they jus piss me off. They always wanna try to change you, them people's, they wanna get in to your insides and wrench out the stuff they dont like, its comparable to eatin a trifle. Ev'ry one likes the jelly, the cream on the top and the hundreds and thouuusands,that English thang Custaard, but when you get to that wet cookie shit 'uhgg' fuck me its gross. Here they call it 'biscuit' like the French. Fuckin biscuit, biscuit, biscuit my ass! So they grab it and they discard it take it from the bowl and bin it in the bin. They dont care cos it makes em feel better, less sick in themselves. Some peoples likes the biscuit shit, they wants to mmmm chew and suck on the biscuit oh yeah, but either way its gone, it disapears. Imagine you've got a biscuit of bad in you and you're about to expose your biscuity bad self to some peoples, they dont like it so they throw it in the bin- that means you've given in to them and if not they'll suck and chew mm mmm and that means you've been manipulated either way if there's biscuit in you then, as a metaphorical trifle you're truly done for.

Anyways I didn't find no big red letter day saver that day so ah started for the peoples coming off the bus an they could see that ah was bein a scab or summit, so ah jus used my last three pounds.
dont get me wrong ah aint a tight bitch, but why should  spend perfectly good money that ah could use for recreation on public transport? We shouldn't have to pay for that shit, ah mean try telling the job centre that you're unemployed cos you spent all your benefits on them here buses so yous couldn't search no longer in the bigger cities, well there's no work about my little ghetto that's fo cho. 'Purdy vacant', purdy vacant indeed. Well ah boarded the bus an well ah spose it may have been worth it if I weren't keen on walking, but sure if there wasnt rules and shit ah could quite easily've walked if it didn't matter me bein late for appointments, getting up late or wandering about losing sight of myself and ev'rything like them tramps do. I gotta stay in control though, there's definitely something worth livin for, but right now at this particular moment I aint worked that shit out yet. So perhaps, jus maybe ah'll get a horse ah thought...