Trainspotting
Screenplay by
John Hodge
Based on the Novel by
Irvine Welsh
Directed by
Danny Boyle
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
EXT. STREET. DAY
Legs run along the pavement. They are Mark Renton's.
Just ahead of him is Spud. They are both belting along.
As they travel, various objects (pens, tapes, CDs, toiletries, ties,
sunglasses, etc.) either fall or are discarded from inside their jackets.
They are pursued by two hard-looking Store Detectives in identical uniforms.
The men are fast, but Renton and Spud maintain their lead.
RENTON
(voice-over)
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family,
Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players, and electrical tin openers.
Suddenly, as Renton crosses a road, a car skids to a halt, inches from him.
In a moment of detachment he stops and looks at the shocked driver, then at
Spud, who has continued running, then at the Two Men, who are now closing in
on him.
He smiles.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT ROOM. DAY
In a bare, dingy room, Renton lies on the floor, alone, motionless and
drugged.
RENTON
(v.o)
Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose
fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose
your friends.
EXT. FOOTBALL PITCH. NIGHT
On a flood lit five-a-side pitch, Renton and his friends are taking on
another team at football.
The opposition all wear an identical strip (Arsenal), whereas Renton and his
friends wear an odd assortment of gear.
Three girls -- Lizzy, Gail, and Allison and Baby -- stand by the side,
watching.
The boys are outclassed by the team with the strip but play much dirtier.
As each performs a characteristic bit of play, the play freezes and their
name is visible, printed or written on some item of clothing. (T-Shirt,
baseball cap, shorts, trainers). In Begbie's case, his name appears as a
tatoo on his arm.
Sick Boy commits a sneaky foul and indignantly denies it.
Begbie commits an obvious foul and make no effort to deny it.
Spud, in goal, lets the ball in between his legs.
Tommy kicks the ball as hard as he can.
Renton's litany continues over the action:
RENTON
(v.o)
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece
suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY
and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on
that couch watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing game shows,
stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at
the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing
more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you
have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.
Renton is hit straight in the face by the ball. He lies back on the
astroturf. Voice-over continues.
But who would I want to do a thing like that?
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton lies on the floor.
Swanney, Allison and Baby, Sick Boy and Spud are shooting up or preparing to
shoot up. Sick Boy is talking to Allison as he taps up a vein on her arm.
RENTON
(v.o)
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the
reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got
heroin?
SICK BOY
Goldfinger's better than Dr. No. Both of them are a lot better
than Diamonds are Forever a judgement reflected in its relative
poor showing at the box office, in which field, of course,
Thunderball was a notable success.
RENTON
(v.o)
People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and
all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget -
Spud is shooting up
is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all,
we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid.
Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and
you're still nowhere near it. When you're on junk you have only
one worry: scoring. When you're off it you are suddenly obliged to
worry about all sorts of other shite. Got no money: can't get
pished. Got money: drinking too much. Can't get a bird: no chance
of a ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. You have to worry about
bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking
winds, about human relationships and all the things that really
don't matter when you've got a sincere and truthful junk habit.
SICK BOY
I would say, in those days, he was a muscular actor, in every
sense, with all the presence of someone like Cooper or Lancaster,
but combined with a sly wit to make him a formidable romantic
lead, closer in that respect to Cary Grant.
RENTON
(v.o)
The only drawback, or at least the principal drawback, is that you
have to endure all manner of cunts telling you that -
INT. PUB I. NIGHT
Begbie, smoking and drinking, speaks to camera.
BEGBIE
No way would I poison my body with that shite, all they fucking
chemicals, no fucking way.
INT. PUB I. NIGHT
Tommy sits beside Lizzy. He speaks to camera.
TOMMY
It's a waste of your life, Rents, poisoning your body with that
shite.
INT. RENTON FAMILY HOME, LIVING ROOM. NIGHT
Renton's father and mother sit at the table eating.
Renton is seated but not eating.
FATHER
Every chance you've ever had, you've blown it, stuffing your veins
with that filth.
--------
INT. ELECTRICAL RETAILERS. DAY
Gav wears the corporate jacket.
GAV
Get off that stuff, Rents and get a job. It's not as bad as it
looks. While you're here, you don't fancy buying a cooker, do you?
--------
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Sick Boy and Spud lie drugged up. Allison and Baby wait while Swanney cooks
up.
Renton is standing up.
RENTON
(v.o)
From time to time, even I have uttered the magic words.
SWANNEY
Are you serious?
RENTON
Yeah. No more. I'm finished with that shite.
SWANNEY
Well, it's up to you.
RENTON
I'm going to get it right this time. Going to get it set up and
get off it for good.
SWANNEY
Sure, sure. I've heard it before.
RENTON
The Sick Boy method.
They both look at Sick Boy
SWANNEY
Yeah, well, it surely worked for him.
RENTON
He's always been lacking in moral fibre.
SWANNEY
He knows a lot about Sean Connery.
RENTON
That's hardly a substitute.
SWANNEY
you'll need one more hit.
RENTON
No, I don't think so.
SWANNEY
To see you through the night that lies ahead.
Freeze Frame on Swanney.
RENTON
(v.o)
We called him the mother superior on account of the length of his
habit. He knew all about it. On it, off it, he knew it all. Of
course I'd have another shot: after all, I had work to do.
INT. RENTON'S FLAT ROOM. DAY
The door opens and Renton enters carrying shopping bags. He empties them on
to a mattress beside three buckets and a television.
RENTON
(v.o)
Relinquishing junk. Stage One: preparation. For this you will
need: one room which you will not leave; one mattress; tomato
soup, ten tins of; mushroom soup, eight tins of, for consumption
cold; ice cream, vanilla, one large tub of; Magnesia, Milk of, one
bottle; paracetamol; mouth wash; vitamins; mineral water;
Lucozade; pornography; one bucket for urine, one for feces, and
one for vomitus; one television; and one bottle of Valium, which I
have already procured, from my mother, who is, in her own domestic
and socially acceptable way, also a drug addict.
Renton swallows several Valium tablets. Voice-over continues.
And now I'm ready. All I need is a final hit to soothe the pain
while the Valium takes effect.
--------
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Swanney, Sick Boy, Spud and Allison and Baby all lie inert while the
telephone rings.
--------
INT. CALL BOX. DAY
Renton curses as he slams down the receiver. He dials again.
RENTON
Mikey. It's Mark Renton. Can you help me out?
INT. MIKEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton holds two opium suppositories in the palm of his hand.
RENTON
(v.o)
This was typical of Mikey Forrester.
(on screen)
What the fuck are these?
(v.o)
Under the normal run of things I would have had nothing to do with
the cunt, but this was not the normal run of things.
MIKEY
Opium suppositories. Ideal for your purpose. Slow release, like.
Bring you down gradually. Custom fucking designed for your needs.
RENTON
I want a fucking hit.
MIKEY
That's all I've got: take it or leave it.
Renton sticks his hand down the back of his trousers and sticks the
suppositories into his rectum.
Feel better now?
RENTON
For all the good they've done me I might as well have stuck them
up my arse.
He smiles.
EXT. STREET. DAY
RENTON
(v.o)
Heroin makes you constipated. The heroin from my last hit is
fading away and the suppositories have yet to melt. I am no longer
constipated.
He looks around the local amenities. He is in discomfort, clutching his
abdomen and falling to his knees.
He notices a betting shop.
INT. BETTING SHOP. DAY
Renton walks through the crowded, smoky betting shop towards a door marked
'toilet' with a bit of card.
RENTON
(v.o)
I fantasize about massive pristine convenience.
He stumbles through.
(v.o)
Brilliant gold taps, virginal white marble, a seat carved from
ebony, a cistern full of Chanel No. 5, and a flunky handing me
pieces of raw silk toilet roll. But under the circumstances I'll
settle for anywhere.
INT. HORRIBLE TOILET. DAY
This is the most horrible toilet in Britain.
Alone, Renton makes his way through the horrors to a cubicle.
INT. HORRIBLE TOILET CUBICLE. DAY
Renton locks the door.
He looks into the bowl and winces with disgust, even in his state.
He pulls the chain. The chain comes off.
He drops his trousers, sits on the bowl and closes his eyes.
--------
MONTAGE
A lorry on a building site dumps a load of bricks, B52's shed their load on
Vietnam, the Blue Peter elephant, etc.
--------
INT. CUBICLE. DAY
Renton has his eyes closed. They snap open.
He looks down between his legs.
He drops to his knees in front of the bowl and rolls his sleeve up.
With no more hesitation he plunges his arm into the bowl and trawls for the
suppositories.
It seems to take ages. He cannot find them. He sticks his arm further and
further into the toilet, moving his whole body close. He strains to find it.
His head is over the bowl now. Gradually he reaches still further until his
head is lowered into the bowl, followed by his neck, torso, other arm, and
finally his legs, all disappearing.
The cubicle is empty.
INT. UNDER WATER. DAY
Renton, dressed as before, swims through murky depths until he reaches the
bottom, where he picks up the suppositories, which glow like luminous
pearls, before heading up towards the surface again.
INT. HORRIBLE TOILET CUBICLE. DAY
The toilet is empty.
Suddenly Renton appears through the bowl, then his arms as he lifts himself
out. Still clasping his two suppositories, he walks out of the toilet.
INT. RENTON'S ROOM. DAY
The mattress, buckets and supplies are laid out as before.
The door opens and Renton enters, still soaking and dripping.
The suppositories are in his hand. He holds them up, and they twinkle in the
light.
RENTON
Now. Now I'm ready.
INT. RENTON'S ROOM. DAY
The cans of soup, the bottle of water, and the carton of ice cream are
empty, the bottle of pills spilt, the magazines well thumbed.
--------
SICK BOY
You Only Live Twice?
RENTON
Nineteen-sixty-seven.
SICK BOY
Running time?
RENTON
One hundred and sixteen minutes.
SICK BOY
Director?
RENTON
Lewis Gilbert.
SICK BOY
Screenwriter?
RENTON
Eh - Ian Fleming?
SICK BOY
Fuck off! He never wrote any of them.
RENTON
OK, so who was it, then?
SICK BOY
You can look it up.
Sick Boy throws across a worn copy of a film guide.
Renton cannot be bothered to pick it up.
How are you feeling since you came off the skag? For myself, I'm
bored.
RENTON
Who wrote it?
SICK BOY
But you're looking better, it has to be said. Healthier. Radiant
even.
RENTON
You don't know, do you?
SICK BOY
And I wondered if you'd care to go to the park tomorrow.
RENTON
The park?
SICK BOY
Tomorrow afternoon. Usual set-up.
RENTON
Who wrote it?
SICK BOY
Roald Dahl.
RENTON
Roald Dahl. Fuck me.
--------
EXT. PARK. DAY
Typical weather, neither good nor bad. The park is nondescript arid green
with a few bushes. This is not Kew Gardens. Renton and Sick Boy appear,
dressed as before but for the addition of cheap sunglasses.
Renton is carrying a battered old cassette player and a carry-out in a
plastic bag.
Sick Boy is carrying a small, tatty suitcase from Oxfam.
They scan the horizon and give each other the nod. They walk towards the
bushes.
RENTON
(v.o)
The down side of coming off junk was that I knew I would need to
mix with my friends again in a state of full consciousness. It was
awful: they reminded me so much of myself I could hardly bear to
look at them. Take Sick Boy, for instance, he came off junk at the
same time as me, not because he wanted too, you understand, but
just to annoy me, just to show me how easily he could do it,
thereby downgrading my own struggle. Sneaky fucker, don't you
think? And when all I wanted to do was lie along and feel sorry
for myself, he insisted on telling me once again about his
unifying theory of life.
EXT. PARK. DAY
Seen through the telescopic sight of an air rifle that wanders over various
potential targets (children, pensioners, couples, gardeners, etc.).
SICK BOY
It's certainly a phenomenon in all walks of life.
RENTON
What do you mean?
SICK BOY
Well, at one time, you've got it, and then you lose it, and it's
gone for ever. All walks of life: George Best, for example, had it
and lost it, or David Bowie, or Lou Reed -
RENTON
Some of his solo stuff's not bad.
SICK BOY
No, it's not bad, but it's not great either, is it? And in your
heart you kind of know that although it sounds all right, it's
actually just shite.
RENTON
So who else?
SICK BOY
Charlie Nicholas, David Niven, Malcolm McLaren, Elvis Presley. -
RENTON
OK, OK, so what's the point you're trying to make?
EXT. PARK. DAY
Sick Boy rests the gun down.
SICK BOY
All I'm trying to do is help you understand that The Name of the
Rose is merely a blip on an otherwise uninterrupted downward
trajectory.
RENTON
What about The Untouchables?
SICK BOY
I don't rate that at all.
RENTON
Despite the Academy award?
SICK BOY
That means fuck all. The sympathy vote.
RENTON
Right. So we all get old and then we can't hack it any more. Is that it?
SICK BOY
Yeah.
RENTON
That's your theory?
SICK BOY
Yeah, Beautifully fucking illustrated.
RENTON
Give me the gun.
EXT. PARK. DAY Through the sight again. This time a Skinhead and his
muscle-bound dog are in view.
Sick Boy and Renton talk like Sean Connery.
SICK BOY
Do you see the beast? Have you got it in you sights?
RENTON
Clear enough, Moneypenny. This should present no significant
problem.
The gun fires and the dog yelps, jumps up and bites its owner (the
Skinhead).
SICK BOY
For a vegetarian, Rents, you're a fucking evil shot.
EXT. PARK. DAY
Renton loads up again.
RENTON
(v.o)
Without heroin, I attempted to lead a useful and fulfilling life
as a good citizen.
INT. CAFÉ. DAY
Two milkshakes clink together.
Renton and Spud and seated at a booth, dressed in their own fashion for job
interviews.
RENTON
Good luck, Spud.
SPUD
Cheers.
RENTON
Now remember --
SPUD
Yeah.
RENTON
If they think you're not trying, you're in trouble. First hint of
that, they'll be on to the DSS, 'This cunt's no trying' and your
Giro is fucking finished, right?
SPUD
Right.
RENTON
But try too hard --
SPUD
And you might get the fucking job.
RENTON
Exactly.
SPUD
Nightmare.
RENTON
It's a tightrope, Spud, a fucking tightrope.
SPUD
My problem is that I tend to clam up. I go dumb and I can't answer
any questions at all. Nerves on the big occasion, like a
footballer.
RENTON
Try this.
Renton unfolds silver foil to reveal some amphetamine. Spud dips in a finger
and takes a dab. He nods in appreciation as he tastes it. Renton leaves the
packet in Spud's hand.
SPUD
A little dab of speed is just the ticket.
--------
INT. INTERVIEW OFFICE. DAY
A Woman and Two Men (1 and 2) are interviewing Renton. His job application
form is on the desk in front of them.
MAN 1
Well, Mr. Renton, I see that you attended the Royal Edinburgh
College.
RENTON
Indeed, yes, those halcyon days.
MAN 1
One of Edinburgh's finest schools.
RENTON
Oh, yes, indeed. I look back on my time there with great fondness
and affection. The debating society, the first eleven, the soft
know of willow on leather --
MAN 1
I'm an old boy myself, you know?
RENTON
Oh, really?
MAN 1
Do you recall the school motto?
RENTON
Of course, the motto, the motto --
MAN 1
Strive, hope, believe and conquer.
RENTON
Exactly. Those very words have been my guiding light in what is,
after all, a dark and often hostile world.
Renton looks pious under scrutiny.
MAN 2
Mr. Renton --
RENTON
Yes.
MAN 2
You seem eminently suited to this post but I wonder if you could
explain the gaps in your employment record?
RENTON
Yes, I can. The truth -- well, the truth is that I've had a
long-standing problem with heroin addiction. I've been know to
sniff it, smoke it, swallow it, stick it up my arse and inject it
into my veins. I've been trying to combat this addiction, but
unless you count social security scams and shoplifting, I haven't
had a regular job in years. I feel it's important to mention this.
There is silence.
A paper clip crashes to the floor.
--------
INT. OFFICE. DAY
The same office. The same team are interviewing Spud.
SPUD
No, actually I went to Craignewton but I was worried that you
wouldn't have heard of it so I put the Royal Edinburgh College
instead, because they're both schools, right, and we're all in
this together, and I wanted to put across the general idea rather
than the details, yeah? People get all hung up on details, but
what's the point? Like which school? Does it matter? Why? When?
Where? Or how many O grades did I get? Could be six, could be one,
but that's not important. What's important is that I am, right?
That I am.
MAN 1
Mr. Murphy, do you mean that you lied on your application?
SPUD
Only to get my foot in the door. Showing initiative, right?
MAN 1
You were referred here by the Department of Employment. There's no
need for you to get you "foot in the door", as you put it.
SPUD
Hey. Right. No problem. Whatever you say, man. You're the man, the
governor, the dude in the chair, like. I'm merely here. But
obviously I am. Here, that is. I hope I'm not talking too much. I
don't usually. I think it's all important though, isn't it?
MAN 2
Mr. Murphy, what attracts you to the leisure industry?
SPUD
In a word, pleasure. My pleasure in other people's leisure.
---------
WOMAN
What do you see as your main strengths?
SPUD
I love people. All people. Even people that no one else loves, I
think they're OK, you know. Like Beggars.
WOMAN
Homeless people?
SPUD
No, not homeless people. Beggars, Francis Begbie -- one of my
mates. I wouldn't say my best mate, I mean, sometimes the boy goes
over the score, like one time when we -- me and him -- were having
a laugh and all of a sudden he's fucking gubbed me in the face,
right --
---------
WOMAN
Mr. Murphy, {leaving your friend aside,} do you see yourself as
having any weaknesses?
SPUD
No. Well, yes. I have to admit it: I'm a perfectionist. For me,
it's the best or nothing at all. If things go badly, I can't be
bothered, but I have a good feeling about this interview. Seems to
me like it's gone pretty well. We've touched on a lot of subjects,
a lot of things to think about, for all of us.
MAN 1
Thank you, Mr. Murphy. We'll let you know.
SPUD
The pleasure was mine. Best interview I've ever been to. Thanks.
Spud crosses the room to shake everyone by the hand and kiss them.
RENTON
(v.o)
Spud had done well. I was proud of him. He fucked up good and
proper.
--------
INT. PUB 1. DAY
Renton and Spud meet up after the interviews.
SPUD
A little too well, if anything, a little too well, that's my only
fear, compadre.
RENTON
Another dab?
SPUD
Would not say no, would not say no.
INT. OFFICE. DAY
The Woman and Two Men sit in silence.
--------
INT. PUB 2. NIGHT
It is Saturday night in a busy, city-centre pub on two levels. On a large
upper balcony, overlooking the bar and floor downstairs, sit Spud, Gail,
Renton, Sick Boy, Tommy, Lizzy and Begbie.
Begbie's story overlaps with the subsequent depiction of the incident.
BEGBIE
(v.o)
Picture the scene. Wednesday morning in the Volley. Me and Tommy
are playing pool. No problems, and I'm playing like Paul fucking
Newman by the way. I'm giving the boy here the tanning of a
lifetime. So anyway, it comes to the final ball, the deciding shot
of the tournament: I'm on the black and he's sitting in the
corner, looking all biscuit-arsed. Then this hard cunt comes in.
Obviously fancied himself. Starts looking at me. Right fucking at
me. Trying to put off, like, just for kicks. Looking at me as if
to say, 'Come ahead, square go.' Well, you know me, I'm no looking
for trouble but at the end of the day I'm the cunt with the pool
cue and I'm game for a swedge. So I squared up, casual like. So
what does the hard cunt do, or so-called hard cunt? Shites it.
Puts down his drink, turns around and gets the fuck out of there.
And after that, the game was mine.
INT. POOL HALL. DAY
The events in the pool hall, as described by Begbie.
Begbie and Tommy are playing pool.
Begbie is playing like a wizard.
Tommy looks defeated.
Lining up for the final ball, Begbie is distracted by a large Hard Man
standing at the bar staring at him.
Begbie stands up and walks slowly towards the Hard Man.
They stand, eye to eye, for a moment.
Begbie swings the pool cue slowly into his palm.
The Hard Man turns and leaves.
Begbie drinks the Hard Man's pint, then pots the black with a brilliant
shot.
INT. PUB 2. DAY
Begbie, his story complete, finishes his pint. The others continue to stare
at him, frozen as though expecting something more. Begbie smiles and throws
the pint over his head.
Freeze-frame: the glass in mid-air and Begbie's smiling face.
RENTON
(v.o)
And that was it. That was Begbie's story. Or at least that was
Begbie's version of the story. But a couple of days later I got
the truth from Tommy. It was one of his major weaknesses: he never
told lies, never took drugs, and never cheated on anyone.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton's hand flicks through a long row of videos on the floor while the
sound of weights being lifted (by Tommy) emanates from nearby.
Most of the videos are feature films or comedy shows, some with titles
written in Tommy's hand, but two catch Renton's attention.
They are 100 Great Goals and Tommy and Lizzy Vol. 1, the latter a
handwritten title.
Renton looks from the video round to Tommy, who is engrossed in lifting
weights.
TOMMY
Well, sure it was Wednesday morning, we were in the Volley playing
pool, that much is true.
INT. POOL HALL. DAY
Tommy's account over a depiction of his version.
TOMMY
(v.o)
But Begbie is playing absolutely fucking gash. He's got a hangover
so bad he can hardly hold the fucking cue, never mind pot the
ball. I'm doing my best to lose, trying to humour him, like, but
it's not doing any good: every time I touch the ball I pot
something, every time Begbie goes near the table he fucks it up.
So he's got the hump, right, but finally I manage to set it up so
all he's go to do is pot the black to win one game and salvage a
little pride and maybe not kick my head in, right. So he's on the
black, pressure shot, and it all goes wrong, big time. What does
he do? Picks on this specky wee gadge at the bar and accuses him
of putting him off by looking at him. Can you believe it? I mean,
the poor cunt hasn't even glanced in our direction. He's sitting
there quiet as a mouse when Beggars gubs him with the cue. He was
going to chib him, I tell you, then I thought he was going to do
me. The Beggar is fucking psycho, but he's a mate, you know, so
what can you do?
The events are as follows:
Begbie and Tommy are playing pool.
Begbie, furious, miscues, goes in off, etc.
Tommy deliberately misses sitters and tries to look annoyed.
Begbie lines up to play the black. It is unmissable.
At the bar beyond sits a harmless young Man, wearing the same clothes as the
Hard Man in Begbie's account except that they are now baggy rather than
taut. He is clearly not staring at Begbie but drinks a half-pint and eats
some crisps.
As Begbie plays, the Man bites a crisp.
Begbie miscues, rips the cloth and the ball flies off the table.
Tommy catches it and looks up to see Begbie assaulting the young Man.
Tommy cautiously restrains Begbie and he reaches into his jacket for a
knife.
Begbie turns and for a moment looks as though he might attack Tommy.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. DAY
Tommy puts down his weights.
Renton holds up 100 Great Goals.
RENTON
Can I borrow this one?
INT. PUB 2. NIGHT
The freeze-frame of the glass in mid-air and Begbie's smiling face.
RENTON
(v.o)
Yeah, the guy's a psycho, but it's true, he's a mate as well, so
what can you do? Just stand back and watch and try not to get
involved. Begbie didn't do drugs either, he just did people. That
what he got off on: his own sensory addiction.
The glass falls into the crowd.
Screaming starts. A Woman is bleeding from a wound in her head. The Men
beside her turn furiously around to look for the source of the glass.
Up on the balcony, Begbie stands up. The screams and shouting continue
below.
Begbie appears at the bottom of the staircase down from the balcony.
He strides towards the bleeding Woman and begins shouting.
BEGBIE
All right. Nobody move. The girl got glassed and no cunt leaves
here until we find out which cunt did it.
A man stands up from one of the tables.
MAN
And who the fuck do you think you are?
Begbie kick the Man in the groin. Another moves towards him but is blocked
by the Men surrounding the girl. Soon the whole mass dissolves into a brutal
scrum, in which Begbie plays a prominent part.
Up on the balcony, the rest of the gang watch in silence.
INT. RENTON'S FLAT. DAY
The empty cover for 100 Great Goals lies on the floor.
Sick Boy and Renton sit dispassionately watching Tommy and Lizzy in their
home-made soft-porn video.
RENTON
(v.o)
And as I sat watching the intimate and highly personal video,
stolen only hours earlier from one of my best friends, I realized
that something important was missing from my life.
INT. CLUB. NIGHT
A mass of dancing bodies fills the floor. The music is very loud.
At the side of the dance floor sit Tommy and Spud. The look rather gloomy.
There is an empty seat beside each of them. Spud is drinking heavily.
Tommy turns and speaks to Spud. His lips move but nothing is audible. Spud
is not ever aware that Tommy has spoken.
Tommy bellows in Spud's ear.
Tommy's words and all subsequent conversation in the dance area of the club
appear as subtitles, the character's communications somewhere between speech
and mime.
TOMMY
How's it going with Gail?
SPUD
No joy yet.
TOMMY
How long is it?
SPUD
Six weeks.
TOMMY
Six weeks!
SPUD
It's a nightmare. She told me she didn't want our relationship to
start on a physical basis as that is how it would be principally
defined from then on in.
TOMMY
Where did she come up with that?
SPUD
She read it in Cosmopolitan.
TOMMY
Six weeks and no sex?
SPUD
I've got balls like watermelons, I'm telling you.
INT. NIGHTCLUB, WOMEN'S TOILET. NIGHT
Gail and Lizzy are smoking and talking.
GAIL
I read it in Cosmopolitan.
LIZZY
It's an interesting theory.
GAIL
Actually it's a nightmare. I've been desperate for a shag, but
watching him suffer was just too much fun. You should try it with
Tommy.
LIZZY
What, and deny myself the only pleasure I get from him? Did I tell
you about my birthday?
GAIL
What happened?
LIZZY
He forgot. Useless motherfucker.
INT. NIGHTCLUB. DANCE AREA. NIGHT
Tommy and Spud seated as before. Their words are subtitled.
As they are speaking Gail and Lizzy return and sit down.
TOMMY
Useless motherfucker, that's what she called me. I told her, I'm
sorry, but theses things happen. Let's put it behind us.
SPUD
That's fair enough.
TOMMY
Yes, but then she finds out I've bought a ticket for Iggy Pop the
same night.
SPUD
Went ballistic?
TOMMY
Big time. Absolutely fucking radge. 'It's me or Iggy Pop, time to
decide.'
SPUD
So what's it going to be?
TOMMY
Well, I've paid for the ticket.
GAIL AND LIZZY
What are you two talking about?
TOMMY AND SPUID
Football. What were you talking about?
GAIL and LIZZY
Shopping
Standing nearby but apart from them is Renton.
Renton notes Spud and Tommy with their partners, and across the other side
Sick Boy and Begbie are engaged in flirtatious conversation with Two Women.
RENTON
(v.o)
The situation was becoming serious. Young Renton noticed the haste
with which the successful, in the sexual sphere as in all others,
egregated themselves from the failures.
Begbie and Sick Boy with the Two Women.
Renton standing among a group of lone nerds.
Renton wades on to the dance floor, looking at countless women, all whom
either turn away or are spoken for.
RENTON
(v.o)
Heroin had robbed Renton of his sex drive, but now it returned
with a vengeance. And as the impotence of those days faded into
memory, grim desperation took hold in his sex-crazed mind. His
post-junk libido, fuelled by alcohol and amphetamine, taunted him
remorselessly with his own unsatisfied desire dot.
Renton notices one girl (Diane) walking on her own towards the door.
A Man carrying two drinks catches up with her and walks backwards, talking
to her.
She says nothing. He blocks her way.
She takes one drink and downs it, then the other, handing him back the empty
glasses. She steps past him and walks on towards the door.
(v.o)
And with that, Mark Renton had fallen in love.
EXT. STREET. NIGHT
The Girl walks away from the club, scanning the street for a taxi, and hail
one which stops just as Renton calls out.
RENTON
Excuse me, I don't mean to harass you, but I was very impressed by
the capable and stylish manner in which you dealt with that
situation. I thought to myself: she's special.
DIANE
Thanks.
RENTON
What's your name?
DIANE
Diane.
RENTON
Where are you going, Diane?
DIANE
I'm going home.
RENTON
Where's that?
DIANE
It's where I live.
RENTON
Great.
DIANE
What?
RENTON
I'll come back if you like, but I'm not promising anything.
Diane halts abruptly as a taxi pulls up.
DIANE
Do you find that this approach usually works, or, let me guess,
you've never tried it before. In fact, you don't normally approach
girls, am I right? The truth is that you're a quite, sensitive
type but if I'm prepared to take a chance I might just get to know
the inner you: witty, adventurous, passionate, loving, loyal, a
little bit crazy, a little bit bad, but, hey, don't us girls just
love that?
RENTON
Eh-
DIANE
Well, what's wrong, boy? Cat got your tongue.
RENTON
I think I left something back at the -
The girl has disappeared into the back of the taxi.
Renton looks around.
TAXI DRIVER
Are you getting in or not, pal?
EXT. ROAD. NIGHT
The taxi motors along.
INT. TAXI. NIGHT
Renton and Diane are kissing passionately in the back.
EXT. STREET. NIGHT
Spud is pushed against the wall held by his lapels. He drinks from a bottle
of beer in one hand.
GAIL
Do you understand?
Spud nods drunkenly.
Gail releases her grip.
Our relationship is not being redefined; it is developing in an
appropriate, organic fashion. I expect you to be a considerate and
thoughtful lover, generous but firm. Failure on your part to live
up to these very reasonable expectations will result in swift
resumption of a non-sex situation. Right?
Spud drinks from a bottle in the other hand and says nothing but he does not
look too happy.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. NIGHT
Tommy and Lizzy kiss while Tommy unlocks the door.
INT. DIANE'S HOME, HALLWAY. NIGHT
In a darkened suburban hallway, the door opens and two figures enter.
RENTON
Diane.
DIANE
Ssshh!
RENTON
Sorry.
DIANE
Shut up.
They walk through another door and close it behind them.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. NIGHT
Tommy and Lizzy kiss against the inside of th door, taking their outer
clothes off.
INT. DIANE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT
By a pale bedside light, Diane and Renton undress.
INT. GAIL'S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Spud is lying unconscious on the bed. Gail stands over him.
GAIL
Wake up, Spud, wake up. Sex.
She kicks him. He moans.
Casual sex.
She kicks him again. He moans again.
You useless bastards. So, let's see what I'm missing.
She begins undressing him.
INT. DIANE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Renton lies on his back while Diane rides above him.
INT. GAIL'S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Gail throws Spud's clothes to the floor and throws a blanket over him.
GAIL
Not much.
She switches out the light.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. NIGHT
Tommy and Lizzy now lie on the bed in a state of semi-undress.
LIZZY
Tommy, let's put the tape on.
TOMMY
Now?
LIZZY
Yes, I want to watch ourselves while we're screwing.
TOMMY
Fuck, OK.
Tommy gets up and reaches into the row of videos on the floor. He lifts out
Tommy and LIzzy, Vol. 1 and hastily shoves it into the video.
Tommy sits back on the bed with the remote control and presses 'play' as
Lizzy kisses him.
His face registers consternation.
On the television, Archie Gemmill scores his famous goal against Holland in
1978.
INT. DIANE'S BEDROOM. NIGHT
Renton and Diane climax together.
Diane immediately climbs off and wraps herself in a robe.
RENTON
Christ, I haven't felt that good since Archie Gemmill scored
against Holland in 1978.
DIANE
Right. You can't sleep here.
RENTON
What?
DIANE
Out.
RENTON
Come on.
DIANE
No argument. You can sleep on the sofa in the living room, or go
home. It's up to you.
RENTON
Jesus.
DIANE
And don't make any noise.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. NIGHT
The lights are full on now. Lizzy sits on the bed clutching a blanket around
herself.
Tommy hops around in his underwear, searching desperately.
All the videos are opened and scattered everywhere.
LIZZY
What do you mean, it's 'gone'? Where has it gone, Tommy?
TOMMY
It'll be here somewhere. I might have returned it by mistake.
LIZZY
Returned it? Where? To the video shop, Tommy? To the fucking video
store? So every punter in Edinburgh is jerking off to our video?
God, Tommy, I feel sick.
INT. DIANE'S HOME, LIVING-ROOM. MORNING
Renton lies submerged under a blanket.
The sounds of a normal morning travel from a room nearby: whistles, radio,
voices.
Renton peeps over the edge of the blanket, then covers his head again.
INT. GAIL'S BEDROOM. MORNING
Spud opens his eyes. With his fingers, he feels crusted liquid around his
mouth.
Abruptly he turns around: the bed is soaked in vomit.
He looks under the cover and drops it again in revulsion.
INT. DIANE'S HOME, LIVING-ROOM. DAY
Renton pulls himself up off the sofa and dresses as quickly as possible.
INT. GAIL'S BEDROOM. DAY
Spud wipes the vomit from his chest with a pillowcase, which he dumps in the
middle of the sheets before gathering the whole lot up as a bundle.
INT. DIANE'S HOME, HALL/KITCHEN. DAY
The door swings open. A Man and a Woman, about Renton's age, sit at the
kitchen table. They look up to see Renton in the doorway.
MAN
Good Morning.
WOMAN
Come in and sit down. You must be Mark.
Renton walks to the table and sits down.
RENTON
Yes, that's me.
WOMAN
You're a friend of Diane's?
RENTON
More of a friend of a friend, really.
MAN
Right.
RENTON
Are you her flatmates?
The couple exchange a look and laugh.
WOMAN
Flatmates. I must remember that one.
The Man and Woman look beyond Renton. He too turns and follows their gaze.
Diane stands in the doorway.
She is wearing school uniform.
INT. GAIL'S HOME, HALL/KITCHEN. DAY
The door swings open to reveal the kitchen. Gail, her Father, and Mother are
seated around the table, eating breakfast. They look towards Spud, who
carries the knotted bundle of sheets as he approaches the table.
GAIL
Good morning, Spud.
SPUD
Morning, Gail. Morning, Mrs. Houston, Mr. Houston.
MOTHER
Morning, Spud. Sit down and have some breakfast.
SPUD
Sorry about last night -
GAIL
It's all right. I slept fine on the sofa.
SPUD
I had a little too much to drink. I'm afraid I had a slight
accident.
FATHER
Oh, don't worry, these things happen. It does everyone good to cut
loose once in a while.
GAIL
This one could do with being tied up once in a while.
MOTHER
I'll put the sheets in the washing machine just now.
SPUD
No, I'll wash them. I'll take them home and bring them back.
MOTHER
There's no need.
SPUD
It's no problem.
MOTHER
No problem for me either.
MOTHER
Honestly, it's no problem.
SPUD
I'd really rather take care of it myself.
MOTHER
Spud, they're my sheets.
She takes hold of the bundle.
Spud does not yield.
She pulls harder. Spud holds on. She tugs powerfully.
The bundle bursts open with an explosion of vomit and excrement that covers
everything in the kitchen.
Only Spud remains untouched.
---------
SPUD
I guess this means I'll never get to have sex with Gail.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. DAY
Tommy sits alone, watching
100 Great Goals
---------
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton paces briskly down the street, followed by Diane.
DIANE
I don't see why not.
RENTON
Because it's illegal.
DIANE
Holding hands?
RENTON
No, not holding hands.
DIANE
In that case you can do it. You were quite happy to do a lot more
last night.
RENTON
And that's what's illegal. Do you know what they do to people like
me inside? They'd cut my balls off and flush them down the fucking
toilet.
They stop at the school gates.
DIANE
Calm down. You're not going to jail.
RENTON
Easy for you to say.
DIANE
Can I see you again?
RENTON
Certainly not.
Renton walks away.
DIANE
If you don't see me again I'll tell the police.
Renton turns and walks back to her. They stand for a moment, then Renton
walks away again. Diane smiles.
(to herself)
I'll see you around then.
EXT. VIDEO STORE. DAY
In the cold light of morning, Tommy and Lizzy wait, not speaking, outside
the still-closed video store.
---------
EXT. RAIL BRIDGE. DAY
A train speeds across.
INT. TRAIN. DAY
Sick Boy, Tommy, Spud and Renton sit drinking from an extensive carry-out.
SICK BOY
This had better be good.
TOMMY
It will be. It'll make a change for three miserable junkies who
don't know what they want to do with themselves since they stopped
doing smack.
SICK BOY
If I'm giving up a whole day and the price of a ticket, I'm just
saying it had better be good. There's plenty of other things I
could be doing.
TOMMY
Such as?
SICK BOY
Such as sitting in a darkened room, watching videos, drinking,
smoking dope and wanking. Does that answer your question?
They sit in silence.
---------
EXT. STATION. DAY
The station is in the middle of a moor. There appears to be no habitation
around. In the distance are some hills.
The train stands at the station.
As it pulls away, Renton, Spud, Tommy and Sick Boy are left standing on the
platform, looking around.
SICK BOY
Now what?
TOMMY
We go for a walk.
SPUD
What?
TOMMY
A walk.
SPUD
But where?
Tommy points vaguely across the moor.
TOMMY
There.
SICK BOY
Are you serious?
They step across the tracks toward the vast moorland. They stop.
All but Tommy sit down on rocks or clumps of heather.
TOMMY
Well, what are you waiting for?
SPUD
I don't know, Tommy. I don't know if it's... normal.
A group of three serious Walkers trudge past from the other end of the
platform, decked out in regulation Berghaus from head to foot. They tramp
off towards the wilderness. The boys watch them go.
Spud opens a can.
TOMMY
It's the great outdoors.
SICK BOY
It's really nice, Tommy. Can we go home now?
TOMMY
It's fresh air.
SICK BOY
Look, Tommy, we know you're getting a hard time off Lizzy, but
there's no need to take it out on us.
TOMMY
Doesn't it make you proud to be Scottish?
RENTON
I hate being Scottish. We're the lowest of the fucking low, the
scum of the earth, the most wretched, servile, miserable, pathetic
trash that was ever shat into civilization. Some people hate the
English, but I don't. They're just wankers. We, on the other hand,
are colonized by wankers. We can't even pick a decent culture to
be colonized by. We are ruled by effete arseholes. It's a shite
state of affairs and all the fresh air in the world will not make
any fucking difference.
The three serious Walkers are receding into the distance.
The boys troop back towards the platform.
(v.o)
At or around this time, we made a healthy, informed, democratic decision to
get
back on drugs as soon as possible. It took about twelve hours.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton hands over money to Swanney.
Renton then begins cooking up.
Also present and cooking or shooting up are Spud, Swanney, Allison and Baby,
and Sick Boy.
RENTON
(v.o)
It looks easy, this, but it's not. It looks like a doss, like a
soft option, but living like this, it's a full-time business.
He injects.
---------
INT. SHOP. DAY
Renton, Spud, and Sick Boy are stuffing objects into their shirts and
pockets.
---------
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton lies back, narcotized.
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton and Spud are running along the street.
Two uniformed Store Detectives are running after them.
Sick Boy stands in a doorway. As the Detectives run past, he strolls away in
the opposite direction.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton lies back as before.
SICK BOY
Ursula Andress was the quintessential Bond girl. That's what
everyone says. The embodiment of his superiority to us: beautiful,
exotic, highly sexual and yet unavailable to everyone but him.
Shite. Let's face it: if she'd shag one punter from Edinburgh,
she'd shag the fucking lot of us.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. LATER
Spud cooks up, watched by Swanney.
Nearby lie the drugged forms of Renton, Sick Boy and Allison and Baby.
INT. RENTON FAMILY HOME, LIVING-ROOM. NIGHT
Renton's Mother and Father sit reading the paper and a magazine.
INT. RENTON FAMILY HOME, PARENTS' BEDROOM. NIGHT
Renton trawls through drawers and any containers (shoe boxes, make-up boxes,
under the mattress, etc.) until he finds some cash/jewelry.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton lies back, staring vacantly ahead.
Tommy flops down beside him. Renton shows barely a flicker of awareness.
TOMMY
Lizzy's gone, Mark, she's gone and fucking dumped me. It was the
video tape and that Iggy Pop business and all sorts of other
stuff. She told me where to go and no mistake. I said, is there
any chance of getting back together, like, but no way, no fucking
way.
INT. HOSPITAL WARD SITTING-ROOM. DAY
A few elderly patients sit in armchairs watching daytime television.
Renton and Spud jump and climb through an open window. Watched by the
helpless patients, they calmly disconnect the television and take it with
them as they leave by the same route.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton and Tommy slumped side by side as before.
TOMMY
I want to try it, Mark. You're always going on about how it's the
ultimate hit and that. Better than sex. Come on, I'm a fucking
adult. I want to find out for myself.
Renton huddles up and leans away from Tommy.
I've got the money.
Tommy produces ten pounds from his pocket.
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton and Spud run along the street.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Tommy lies drugged on the floor.
---------
INT. FLAT TO BE BURGLED. DAY
The door of an ordinary flat is kicked open.
Begbie walks in, crowbar in hand, followed by Sick Boy and Spud.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
SICK BOY
Honor Blackman a.k.a. Pussy Galore, what a total fucking misnomer.
I wouldn't touch her with yours. I'd sooner shag Col Kreb. At
least you know where you are with a woman like that. Not much to
look at, like, but personality, that's what counts, that's what
keeps a relationship going through the years. Like heroin. I mean,
heroin's got fucking great personality.
Sick Boy opens the heel of a his shoe to reveal a syringe.
---------
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Swanney hands over a small bag of heroin in exchange for ten pounds from
Renton.
---------
INT. FLAT TO BE BURGLED, KITCHEN. DAY
Spud checks the fridge and pulls out a large chunk of deep-frozen meat.
He hits with the crowbar until it fractures and splits. Inside there is some
jewellery.
---------
INT. CAR. DAY
The car is empty. A window is broken and the door opened.
The car alarm goes off.
Renton reaches under the seat and finds the radio/cassette. He then pulls
the bonnet release.
EXT. CAR. DAY
The car alarm rings on until Renton calmly produces a pair of wire cutters
and a spanner to cut free and release the battery.
The alarm is silenced.
Renton walks away with the battery and the stereo.
INT. GP'S SURGERY. DAY
RENTON
(v.o)
Swanney taught us to adore and respect the National Health
Service, for it was the source of much of our gear. We stole
drugs, we stole prescriptions, or bought them, sold them, swapped
them, forged them, photocopied them or traded them with cancer
victims, alcoholics, old age pensioners, AIDS patients, epileptics
and bored housewives. We took morphine, diamorphine, cyclozine,
codeine, temazepam, nitrezepam, phenobarbitone, sodium amytal
dextropropoxyphene, methadone, nalbuphine, pethidine, pentazocine,
buprenorphine, dextromoramide chlormethiazole. The streets are
awash with drugs that you can have for unhappiness and pain, and
we took them all. Fuck it, we would have injected Vitamin C if
only they'd made it illegal.
The GP examines Renton's chest and smiles.
The GP turns to wash his hands. Renton pulls on his shirt and steals a
prescription pad off the desk.
---------
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton lies back with his eyes close. A football enters the frame to bounce
off his head and out again.
He opens his eyes and it happens again.
Opposite him, Spud, Sick Boy and Tommy stand looking down on him.
Tommy throws the ball again.
---------
INT. PUB I. DAY
It's the first day of the Edinburgh Festival.
Renton, Tommy, Spud, Sick Boy and Begbie sit drinking.
They observe a young male American Tourist walk in in a bulky red anorak and
glasses. He goes past them towards the toilet.
Begbie stands up.
INT. PUB I, TOILET. DAY
The American Tourist turns from the urinal to see Begbie, Renton, Sick Boy,
Spud and Tommy approaching. Begbie punches and kicks the Tourist and pulls
out a knife.
---------
INT. TAXI. DAY
The door of the taxi opens, Begbie, Tommy, Spud, Sick Boy and Renton get in,
carrying the red anorak and glasses.
As the taxi pulls away they study the photograph in the passport. They look
at one another in agreement.
EXT. TAXI. DAY
The taxi motors along.
---------
INT. PUB I. NIGHT
A man at the bar is now wearing the red anorak.
Begbie divides up the money among Sick Boy, Tommy, Spud, and Renton.
Renton takes his share.
BEGBIE
And remember, Rents: no skag.
RENTON
Aye, OK, Fr.
RENTON
(v.o)
But the good times couldn't last for ever.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Renton lies as before. Around the room are Swanney, Allison, Tommy, Spud and
Sick Boy.
Allison begins screaming and wailing.
Slowly, the others rouse themselves to varying degrees.
RENTON
(v.o)
I think Allison had been screaming all day, but it hadn't really
registered before. She might have been screaming for a week for
all I knew. It's been days since I've heard anyone speak, though
surely someone must have said something in all that time, surely
to fuck someone must have.
SICK BOY
What's wrong, Allison?
Allison points toward the bundle of dirty blankets in which her baby is
wrapped. Sick Boy follows her directions.
SPUD
Calm down, calm down. It's going to be all right, everything's going to be
just fine.
RENTON
(v.o)
Nothing could have been further from the truth. In point of fact,
nothing at all was going to be just fine. On the contrary,
everything was going to be bad. Bad? I mean worse than it already
was.
Sick Boy stands over the bundle. The baby is dead.
SICK BOY
Oh, fuck. Sick Boy reaches out to Allison.
RENTON
(v.o)
It wasn't my baby. She wasn't my baby. Baby Dawn. She wasn't mine.
Spud's? Swanney's? Sick Boy's? I don't know. Maybe Allison knew.
Maybe not. I wished I could think of something to say, something
sympathetic, something human.
SICK BOY
Say something, Mark, say something --
RENTON
I'm cooking' up. There is a silence.
Renton begins scrambling around through the works.
ALLISON
Cook one for me, Renton. I need a hit.
RENTON
(v.o)
And so she did, I could understand that. To take the pain away. So
I cooked up and she got a hit, but only after me. That went
without saying.
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton, Spud and Sick Boy cross the road to approach the shop.
RENTON
(v.o)
Well, at least we knew who the father was now. It wasn't just the
baby that died that day. Something inside Sick Boy was lost and
never returned. It seemed he had no theory with which to explain a
moment like this.
---------
INT. SHOP. DAY
Renton, Spud and Sick Boy are stuffing their pockets, as seen before.
Renton's theft is interrupted by Diane's voice.
DIANE
Hello there, Mark.
Diane is standing just beside him.
What are you doing?
Renton is speechless, but a few stolen items fall from inside his jacket
down to the floor.
Diane looks down.
Spud and Sick Boy start to snigger.
One of the Store Detectives become aware of the group. He starts walking
towards them.
You didn't tell me you were a thief.
SPUD
Hey, go easy, lady. The boy's got a habit to support.
SICK BOY
Opium doesn't just grow on trees, you know.
A few more items fall from Renton's jacket as the store Detective closes in.
Renton looks at Diane.
---------
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton and Spud are running, pursued by the Two Store Detectives.
RENTON
(v.o)
Nor did I. Our only response was to keep on going and fuck everything. Pile
misery upon misery, heap it up on a spoon and dissolve it with a drop of
bile, then squirt it into a stinking purulent vein and do it all over again.
Keep on going: getting up, going out, robbing, stealing, fucking people
over, propelling ourselves with longing towards the day it would all go
wrong. As seen in the opening scene, Renton is nearly hit by a car that
screeches to a halt as he crosses a road.
He looks at the driver, at Spud running away and the Store Detectives
approaching.
(v.o)
Because no matter how much you stash or how much you steal, you never have
enough. No matter how often you go out and rob and fuck people over you
always need to get up and do it all again. Renton smiles and waits.
(v.o)
Sooner or later, this sort of thing was bound to happen. One of the
Detectives runs straight past him, after Spud.
The other Detective crashes into Renton with a mighty punch in the stomach.
INT. COURT. DAY
Spud and Renton stand in the dock. Renton's Mother and Father, Sick Boy,
Begbie, and Spud's Mother (Mrs. Murphy) are among those in the gallery.
The Sheriff delivers his sentence.
SHERIFF
...because shoplifting is theft, which is a crime, and, despite
what you may believe, there is no such entity as victimless crime.
Heroin addiction may explain your actions, but it does not excuse
them. Mr Murphy, you are a habitual thief, devoid of regret or
remorse. In sentencing you to six months' imprisonment my only
worry is that it will not be long before we meet again. Mr Renton,
I understand that you have entered into a programme of
rehabilation in an attempt to wean yourself away from heroin. The
suspension of your sentence is conditional upon your continued
cooperation with this programme. Should you stand guilty before me
again, I shall not hesitate to impose a custodial sentence.
RENTON
Thank you, your honour. With God's help, I'll conquer this
affliction.
The Sheriff and Renton stare at one another for a moment. Renton turns to
look at Spud, then back towards the Sheriff, who is now leaving the court.
(v.o)
What can you say? Well, Begbie had a phrase for it.
INT. PUB I. DAY
The pub is crowded. Around Renton are his mother, Father, Begbie, Sick Boy
and Gav.
BEGBIE
It was fucking obvious that that cunt was going to fuck some cunt.
There is a round to nodding and 'poor Spud'ing. Everyone begins to talk at
once.
FATHER
I hope you've learned your lesson, son.
MOTHER
Oh, my son, I thought I was going to lose you there. You're
nothing but trouble to me, but I still love you.
BEGBIE
Clean up your act, sunshine. Cut that shite out for ever.
MOTHER
You listen to Francis, Mark, he's talking sense.
BEGBIE
Fucking right I am. See, inside, you wouldn't last two fucking days.
SICK BOY
There's better things that the needle, Rents. Choose life.
He winks.
MOTHER
I remember when you were a baby, even when you would never do what you were
told.
BEGBIE
But he pulled it off, clever bastard, and he got a result.
They laugh, then fall silent.
Renton turns around. Behind him stands Spud's mother.
RENTON
Mrs Murphy, I'm sorry about Spud. It's wasn't fair, him going down and not
me --
Tears in her eyes, Mrs Murphy turns and walks away.
Renton watches her go. Behind him Begbie shouts.
BEGBIE
It's no our fault. Your boy went down because he was fucking
smack-head and if that's not your fault, I don't know what is.
Begbie turns back to Renton.
Right. I'll get the drinks in.
He moves towards the bar.
Renton slips away.
Renton walks through the bar towards the toilets, then out of a back door.
EXT. YARD. DAY
Renton emerges into a narrow yard surrounded by a high wall. He looks
around. The steel back gate is locked.
RENTON
(v.o)
I wished I had gone down instead of Spud. Here I was surrounded by
my family and my so-called mates and I've never felt so alone,
never in all my puff. Since I was on remand they've had me on this
programme, the state-sponsored addiction, three sickly sweet doses
of methadone a day instead of smack. But it's never enough, and at
the moment it's nowhere near enough. I took all three this morning
and now I've got eighteen hours to go till my next shot and a
sweat on my back like a layer of frost. I need to visit the mother
superior for one hit, one fucking hit to get us over this long,
hard day.
Renton climbs the wall. He stands on top, then dives off the other side,
executing a somersault in mid-air.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. NIGHT
Swanney is cooking up. Renton lands on the floor behind him like a gymnast.
RENTON
What's on the menu this evening?
SWANNEY
Your favourite dish.
RENTON
Excellent.
SWANNEY
Your usual table, sir?
RENTON
Why, thank you.
Renton sits on his usual cushion on the floor.
SWANNEY
And would sir care to settle his bill in advance?
RENTON
Stick it on my tab.
SWANNEY
Regret to inform, sir, that your credit limit was reached and
breached a long time ago.
RENTON
In that case --
He produces twenty pounds.
SWANNEY
Oh, hard currency, why, sir, that'll do nicely.
He swipes the notes underneath a UV forgery checker.
Can't be too careful when we're dealing with your type, can we?
Renton begins his search for a vein.
Would sir care for a starter? Some garlic bread perhaps?
RENTON
No, thank you. I'll proceed directly to the intravenous injection
of hard drugs, please.
SWANNEY
As you wish.
He hands Renton the syringe. Renton inject, then lies back on the dirty,
red, carpeted floor. He lies completely still. His pupils shrink. His
breathing becomes slow, shallow and intermittent. He sinks into the floor
until he is lying in a coffin-shaped and coffin-sized pit, lined by the red
carpet. Swanney stands over him.
SWANNEY
Perhaps sir would like me to call for a taxi?
An ambulance siren becomes faintly audible.
INT. SWANNEY'S STAIRWELL. NIGHT
The siren is a little louder. Swanney holds Renton under his arms and drags
him backwards down the steps.
EXT. STREET. NIGHT
As Swanney emerges, still dragging Renton, the siren grows louder and then
an ambulance speeds by without stopping. Swanney drags Renton across the
pavement and into the open door of a waiting taxi. Swanney then steps out of
the taxi's other door, pausing only to tuck a ten-pound note into Renton's
pocket before closing the door.
INT. TAXI. NIGHT
Renton lies on the floor of the taxi, as Swanney left him, rolling slightly
as the taxi takes a corner.
EXT. HOSPITAL/TAXI. NIGHT
The taxi is stationary. We do not see the driver's face but his hand opens
the door and then drags Renton out on to the pavement by his ankles before
taking the ten pound note, getting back in the cab and driving away. Renton
lies on the pavement. Two Porters life him by arms and ankles on to a
trolley. We do not see the Porters's faces as they wheel Renton into the
hospital.
INT. HOSPITAL ACCIDENT AND EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT. NIGHT
Renton is wheeled through the department, then into a bay surrounded by a
white nylon curtain.
INT. TROLLEY BAY. NIGHT
The Porters lift Renton from one trolley on to another, then leave him alone
in the bay surrounded by the curtain. Renton lies alone. His breathing is
still shallow and erratic. Around him is the usual accident and emergency
paraphernalia: blood pressure machine, oxygen tap, bandages, etc. A Doctor
comes in and gives Renton an injection, then leaves.
DOCTOR
Wake up. Wake up.
Renton breathes more easily.
---------
The Two Porters return with another trolley. They lift Renton roughly on to
it and wheel him away.
INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR. NIGHT
The Porters wheel Renton along.
INT. WARD. NIGHT
The Porters lift Renton off the trolley and dump him on the bed. A nurse
sticks a thermometer in his mouth.
INT. WARD. DAY
Renton's Father and Mother lift Renton, now fully conscious, off the bed and
dump him in a wheelchair.
INT. HOSPITAL CORRIDOR. DAY
Mother walks ahead. Behind her, Father pushes Renton in the wheelchair.
---------
INT. TAXI. DAY
Mother and Father sit on either side of Renton.
INT. RENTON'S BEDROOM. DAY
Father shoves Renton on to the bed, then walks out past Mother, who looks at
Renton for a moment before closing the door.
INT. OTHER SIDE OF RENTON'S BEDROOM DOOR. DAY
Renton's Father's hand slides three bolts across to lock the door.
INT. RENTON'S BEDROOM. DAY
Renton lies on the bed.
RENTON
(v.o)
I don't feel the sickness yet, but it's in the post, that's for
sure. I'm in the junky limbo at the moment, too ill to sleep, too
tired to stay awake, but the sickness is on its way. Sweat,
chills, nausea, pain and craving. Need like nothing else I have
ever known will soon take hold of me. It's on the way.
The door opens. Renton's Mother walks in with a bowl of soup and a piece of
bread. Father watches from the doorway.
MOTHER
We'll help you, son. You'll stay with us until you get better.
We'll beat this together.
RENTON
Maybe I could go back to the clinic.
MOTHER
No. No clinics, no methadone. That made you worse, you said so
yourself. You lied to us, son, your own mother and father.
RENTON
At least get us some Tempazepam.
MOTHER
No, you're worse coming off that than you are with heroin. Nothing
at all.
FATHER
It's a clean break this time.
MOTHER
You're staying where we can keep an eye on you.
RENTON
I do appreciate what you're trying to do, I really do, but I need
just one score, to ease myself off it. Just one. Just one.
Mother retreats past Father, who closes the door. The bolts go home again.
Renton lies back and closes his eyes. His forehead is damp with sweat. He
begins to shake. He tosses and turns, becoming wrapped up in a swathe of
blankets. As he unravels them, he is astonished to find a fully clothed
Begbie in the bed with him.
BEGBIE
Well, this is a good laugh, you fucking useless bastard. Go on,
sweat that shite out of your system, because if I come back and
it's still there, I'll fucking kick it out.
Begbie laughs and covers himself up. Renton rips away the blankets, but
Begbie has gone. Renton looks up. Baby Dawn is crawling across the ceiling.
Renton looks down to see Diane sitting on the end of the bed. Diane sings
'Temptation' by New Order.
DIANE
'Oh, you've got green eyes, oh, you've got red eyes, and I've
never met anyone quite like you before.'
Renton looks back up. Dawn continues her slow crawl, leaving behind a thick
rail of unidentifiable slime. Renton looks down. Sick Boy sits on the end of
the bed, holding a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit. Mother stands behind
him.
SICK BOY
It's a mug's game, Mrs Renton. I'm not saying I was blameless
myself, far from it, but there comes a time when you have to turn
your back on that nonsense and just say no.
Sick Boy takes a bit of his biscuit. Dawn crawls on. She has fangs now. Spud
sits on the end of the bed, in a caricature prison uniform with arrows on
it, plus a ball and chain. Dawn has claws as well. Tommy sits on the end of
the bed. He looks terrible.
TOMMY
Better than sex, Rents, better than sex. The ultimate hit. I'm a
fucking adult. I'll find out for myself. Well, I've found out all
right.
Renton looks up again just as the baby drops on to his face. He tears her
off and throws her into a corner. Renton's Mother and Father are washing
him. Mother bends down and picks up the large, damp sponge from the corner,
where it landed. She wipes her son's face with it.
FATHER
Mark, there's something you need to do.
---------
INT. CONSULTING ROOM. DAY
A Doctor stands up as Renton enters.
DOCTOR
Come in. Sit down, please.
They both sit down.
Well, you've already spoken to one of our counsellors, but before
we go on there're just a few questions I'd like to ask you.
---------
INT. RENTON FAMILY HOME, LIVING-ROOM. DAY
Renton, his mother and Father sit watching television.
INT. STUDIO. DAY
Renton is sitting inside a plastic booth shaped like a giant syringe. The
Doctor, now dressed as a game-show host, stands in front, with Renton's
Mother and Father beside him.
DOCTOR
Question number one: the human immunodeficiency virus is a - what?
FATHER
Retrovirus?
DOCTOR
Retrovirus is the correct answer.
Fanfare.
Question number two: HIV binds to which receptor on the host
lymphocyte? Which Receptor?
Mother and Father confer.
FATHER
CD4.
DOCTOR
CD4 receptor is the correct answer.
Fanfare.
And now, question number three: is he guilty or not guilty?
MOTHER
He's our son.
DOCTOR
Is the correct answer.
Fanfare.
And now it's time to 'Take the Test'.
Lights flash. Music. A garish Hostess walks on with two envelopes. She holds
them out for Mother to choose one.
INT. CONSULTING ROOM. DAY
The Doctor watches in silence as the Hostess, now dressed as a medical
technician, draws blood from Renton's arm and puts it into a tube. She marks
the tube with a pre-printed, numbered label.
INT. STUDIO. DAY
Mother opens one of the envelopes. She is speechless with joy. The plastic
booth opens up. Lights flash again, etc. Renton steps out.
INT. SOCIAL CLUB. NIGHT
Renton, his Mother and Father sit at a table in the local social club. It is
a Saturday night and the club is busy. Everyone sits in rapt silence. It is
not initially clear what is going on. Near the bar a Caller with a
microphone calls over the PA - Two and four,
twenty-four...seven...fifteen...clickety-click, sixty-six - And so on, as he
draws the numbers from the drum. Everyone studies their cards, except
Renton, who studies the people instead, his drink untouched. The
number-calling continues until suddenly interrupted by Mother's voice.
MOTHER
Mark...Mark, you've got a house. House! House! For goodness's sake, Mark.
They bustle around him and pass his card to the front.
RENTON
(v.o)
It seems, however, that I really am the luckiest guy in the world.
Several years of addiction right in the middle of an epidemic,
surrounded by the living dead, but not me -- I'm negative. It's
official. And once the pain goes away, that's when the real battle
starts. Depression. Boredom. You feel so fucking low, you'll want
to fucking top yourself.
His mother counts a wad of money in front of him.
EXT. HOUSING ESTATE. DAY
On the door of a flat 'plaguer', 'HIV', and 'junky AIDS scum' are daubed on
the walls. The sound of a ball being regularly bounced against a wall can be
heard.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. NIGHT
It is poorly furnished. Tommy is seated. Renton has the football, which he
kicks against the wall and catches, then drops and kicks again, and so on.
The ball is slightly flat.
RENTON
Are you getting out much?
TOMMY
No.
RENTON
Following the game at all?
TOMMY
No.
RENTON
No. Me Neither.
Renton drops the ball. It rolls to a halt in the corner. He sits down.
TOMMY
You take the test?
RENTON
Aye.
TOMMY
Clear?
RENTON
Aye.
TOMMY
That's nice.
RENTON
I'm sorry, Tommy.
TOMMY
Have you got any gear on you?
RENTON
No, I'm clean.
TOMMY
Well, sub us, then, mate. I'm expecting a rent cheque.
Renton produces some of his bingo win. As he hands the notes over, their
eyes and hands meet for a moment. Tommy puts the money away.
TOMMY
(continued)
Thanks, Mark.
RENTON
No problem.
(v.o)
No problem -- easy to say when its some other poor cunt with shite
for blood.
---------
INT. HOSPITAL. NIGHT
Renton walks along a corridor and into a ward.
INT. WARD. DAY
Sheets cover the lower half of Swanney in bed. They are thrown back to
reveal the stump of an above-knee amputation.
SWANNEY
Surprise! Pa-pah!
Renton sits down and takes it in silence.
Hit the artery by mistake. Common enough error, or so the quack
tells us, as though that's going to make my leg grown back. Still,
it could have been worse, it could have been my fucking dick. And
I tell you what, in this place you get looked after: clean sheets,
regular meals and all the morphine you can eat.
RENTON
Great.
SWANNEY
And see when I get out of here. I've got plans. Going to get
myself straightened out and head off to Thailand, where women
really know how to treat a guy. See, out there you can live like a
king if you've got white skin and a few crisp tenners in your
pocket. No fucking problem.
RENTON
Sure.
SWANNEY
The strategy is this: get clean, get mobile, get into dealing, and
this time next year I'll be watching the rising sun with a posse
of oriental buttocks parked on my coupon.
RENTON
Sounds great, Swanney.
SWANNEY
Yeah.
RENTON
You'll have to send us a postcard.
SWANNEY
Sure will, pal, sure will.
EXT. PARK. DAY
Renton and Sick Boy are seated in their firing patch, sitting on plastic
bags with beer, vodka, hash and the cassette player. The airgun is present
as before, but they are not making any use of it.
SICK BOY
Eughh. Sounds horrible.
RENTON
It wasn't that bad.
SICK BOY
Did he -- you know?
RENTON
What?
SICK BOY
You know.
RENTON
No, he didn't make me touch it.
SICK BOY
Oh no, don't even mention it.
RENTON
He made me lick it.
SICK BOY
God, you're sick.
RENTON
And I got a stitch stuck between my teeth, jerked my head back and
the whole fucking stump fell off.
SICK BOY
Cut it out.
RENTON
When are you going to visit him?
SICK BOY
Don't know. Maybe Thursday.
RENTON
You're a real mate. And what about Tommy? Have you been to see him
yet?
Sick Boy is silent. He stiffens as he avoids Renton's gaze. They shift
fractionally apart. RENTON tuts.
SICK BOY
Fuck you. OK, so Tommy's got the virus. Bad news, big deal. The
gig goes on, or hadn't you noticed? Swanney fucks his leg up.
Well, tough shit, but it could have been worse.
RENTON
You're all hear.
SICK BOY
I know a couple of addicts. Stupid wee lassies. I feed them what
they need. A little bit of skag to keep them happy while the
punters line up at a fiver a skull. It's easy money for me. Not
exactly a fortune, but I'm thinking, 'I should be coining it
here.' Less whores, more skag. Swanney's right. Get clean, get
into dealing, that's where the future lies. Set up some contacts,
get a good load of skag, punt it, profit. What do you think?
RENTON
Fuck you.
SICK BOY
And I'll tell you why. Because I'm fed up to my back teeth with
losers, no-hopers, draftpacks, schemies, junkies and the like. I'm
getting on with life. What are you doing?
---------
INT. RENTON'S BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton sits alone on the bed, making a joint and reading a book. There is a
knock at the door. Renton answers the door.
RENTON
What do you want?
DIANE
Are you clean?
RENTON
Yes.
DIANE
Is that a promise, then?
RENTON
Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.
DIANE
Calm down, I'm just asking. Is that hash I can smell?
RENTON
No.
DIANE
I wouldn't mind a bit, if it is.
RENTON
Well, it isn't.
DIANE
Smells like it.
RENTON
You're too young.
DIANE
Too young for what?
Renton looks in each direction along the empty passageway.
INT. RENTON'S BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton and Diane are lying in the bed. Diane, wearing one of Renton's
T-shirts, is rolling a mega-joint, quite unaware of the scrutiny of Renton.
DIANE
You're not getting any younger, Mark. The world is changing, music
is changing, even drugs are changing. You can't stay in here all
day dreaming about heroin and Ziggy Pop.
RENTON
It's Iggy Pop.
DIANE
Whatever. I mean, the guy's dead anyway.
RENTON
Iggy Pop is not dead. He toured last year. Tommy went to see him.
DIANE
The point is, you've got to find something new.
Diane completes the joint.
RENTON
(v.o)
She was right. I had to find something new. There was only one
thing for it.
EXT. LONDON. DAY
As contemporary retake of all those 'Swinging London' montages: Red
Routemaster/Trafalgar Square/Big Ben/Royalty/City gents in suits/Chelsea
ladies/fashion victims/Piccadilly Circus at night. Incut with close-ups of
classic street names on a street map (all the ones made famous by Monopoly.
INT. ESTATE AGENT'S OFFICE. DAY
The montage ends on one street, then draws back to reveal the whole map of
London pinned to a wall. A Man holding a telephone walks in front of the
mape and belches loudly. Revealing more, he is in a scruffy, cramped office
with half a dozen occupied desks and twice as many telephones. Seated at the
one nearest to the belching Man is Renton. He is wearing a shirt and tie
now. He turns in response to the belch.
MAN
Can you take this call?
Renton takes the telephone and reaches for a piece of paper from which he
reads.
RENTON
Hello, yes, certainly. It's a beautifully converted Victorian town
house. Ideally located in a quiet road near to local shops and
transport.
Renton checks his watch.
EXT. THE AI IN NORTH LONDON. DAY
Renton stands waiting beside this busy London road, outside some very
unfortunate housing, as the traffic streams past.
RENTON
(v.o)
Two bedrooms and a kitchen/diner. Fully fitted in excellent
decorative order. Lots of storage space. All mod cons. Three
hundred and twenty pounds per week.
A couple approach. Renton unlocks the door of a flat and holds the door open
while he ushers them in.
INT. LONDON FLAT. DAY
Renton shows the Couple round a typical London flat nightmare. A poor
conversion, poor decor, everything small and ill-fitting. The windows rattle
as the traffic roars by.
RENTON
(v.o)
I settled in not too badly and I kept myself to myself. Sometimes,
of course, I thought about the guys, but mainly I didn't miss them
at all. After all, this was boom town where any fool could make
cash from chaos and plenty did. I quite enjoyed the sound of it
all. Profit, loss, margins, takeovers, lending, letting,
subletting, subdividing, cheating, scamming, fragmenting, breaking
away. There was no such thing as society and even if there was, I
most certainly had nothing to do with it. For the first time in my
adult life I was almost content.
INT. LONDON BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton finishes eating a pot noodle. He puts it down and picks up a letter.
He lies back and reads. Intercut with:
INT. SCHOOLROOM. DAY
A class is in progress. A teacher lectures to a mixed class, but Diane is
not listening as she is writing.
EXT. SCHOOL. DAY
Diane is leaving the school when Sick Boy catches up with her. They stop and
then she walks away.
EXT. PARK. DAY
Diane walks along a concrete path. As she does so she has to step over Spud,
who lies asleep/unconscious beside the remains of a carry out.
DIANE
(v.o)
Dear Mark, I'm glad you've found a job and somewhere to live.
School is fine at the moment. I'm not pregnant but thanks for
asking. Your friend Sick Boy asked me last week if I would like to
work for him but I told him where to go. I met Spud, who sends his
regards, or at least I think that's what he said. No one has seen
Tommy for ages. And finally, Fracis Begbie has been on television
a lot this week. --
INT. LONDON BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton turns the page.
DIANE
(v.o)
as he is wanted by the police in connection with an armed robbery
in a jeweller's in Corstorphine. Take care. Yours with love,
Diane.
There is a buzz at the door. Renton re-examines the letter. There is another
buzz.
RENTON
Oh no.
INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton opens the door to an unseen figure. It is Begbie.
INT. BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton sits on the bed. Begbie stands over him, pointing a gun at his head.
He pulls the trigger. It clicks harmlessly.
BEGBIE
Armed robbery? With a replica? How can it be armed robbery? It's a
fucking scandal.
He 'fires' the gun a few more times at his own head, then chucks it to the
floor.
And the haul. Look.
He digs a few rings out of his pocket and throws them to Renton.
Solid silver, my arse. I took it to a fence -- it's trash, pure
trash. There's young couples investing all their hopes in that
stuff, and what are they getting?
RENTON
It's a scandal, Franco.
BEGBIE
Too right it is. Now look, have you got anything to eat, 'cos I'm
fucking Lee Marvin, by the way.
INT. BEDSIT. DAY
Begbie is sitting on the bed in his underwear, eating cereal while watching
television. A small carry-out is nearby. Renton finishes dressing for work.
He pauses at the open door, looking back towards his guest.
RENTON
(v.o)
Begbie settled in in no time at all.
Begbie opens a can of beer. Renton closes the door.
INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE BEDSIT. DAY
Renton closes his door. He is about to walk away when he heard Begbie
shouting.
BEGBIE
(from the bedsit)
Rents, Rents, come fucking back here.
Renton opens the door. Begbie is holding out an empty packet of cigarettes.
Look.
RENTON
What?
BEGBIE
I've no fucking cigarettes.
Begbie throws the packet down to the floor. It lands near the door. He has
turned back to the television and takes a swig of beer.
RENTON
Right.
Renton closes the door again.
INT. BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton and Begbie lie in the single bed with their heads at opposite ends.
Begbie snores. Renton is wide awake, with a pair of smelly- socked feet only
inches from his nose.
RENTON
(v.o)
Yeah, the guy's a psycho, but it's true, he's a mate as well, so
what can you do?
INT. LONDON BEDSIT. DAY
Where the first empty packet of cigarettes fell to the floor there is now a
large heap of empty packets: the product of weeks at sixty a day. Another
one lands on the pile. Begbie, still in his underwear, still can in hand,
sits watchig the racing as before. Behind his, cigarettes and alcohol are
stacked up like a miniature duty-free warehouse. Renton sits behind him,
reading a book.
BEGBIE
Hey, I'm wanting a bet put on.
RENTON
Can you not go yourself.
BEGBIE
I'm a fugitive from the law. I can't be seen on the fucking
streets. Now watch my lips. Kempton Park. Two-thirty. Five pounds
to win. Bad Boy.
INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE BEDSIT. DAY
The door opens, Renton walks out, the door closes and Renton walks away. A
wild, frightening scream erupts from beyond the door.
INT. LONDON BEDSIT. DAY
Begbie, alone in the bedsit, is screaming a cry of primal joy.
RENTON
(v.o)
Bad Bot came in at 16 to 1. And with the winnings, we went out to
celebrate.
INT. LONDON PARTY. NIGHT
To loud music and strobing, fractured lights, surrounded by dry ice, Begbie
dances near a tall woman. Other people dance nearby. Begbie gives the thumbs
up to Renton, who sits on a stool at one side drinking from a bottle of
beer. Begbie and the Woman walk away. Renton looks around the club at the
various men and women.
RENTON
(v.o)
Diane was right. The world is changing, music is changin, drugs
are changing, even men and women are changing. One thousand years
from now there'll be no guys and no girls, just wankers. Sounds
great to me. It's just a pity that no one told Begbie.
EXT. STREET. NIGHT
A car sits in a street near the club, windows steamed up.
INT. CAR. NIGHT
Begbie and the Woman embrace passionately. The Woman undoes Begbie's
trousers.
INT. PARTY. NIGHT
Renton's gaze continues to wander around.
RENTON
(v.o)
You see, if you ask me, we're heterosexual by default, not be
decision. It's just a question of who you fancy.
INT. CAR. NIGHT
Begbie and the Woman continue their embrace as she unbuttons his shirt.
RENTON
(v.o)
It's all about aesthetics and it's fuck all to do with morality.
Suddenly Bedbie freezes. He is holding the 'Woman's' groin. There is
something there that shouldn't be. Begbie goes crazy, simultaneously trying
to put his clothes back on, hit the Woman and get out of the car.
EXT. STREET. NIGHT
Begbie stumbles away from the car, pulling up his trousers as he goes.
RENTON
(v.o)
But you try telling Begbie that.
INT. BEDSIT. NIGHT
Begbie sits on the bed. Renton is sitting on the floor watching.
BEGBIE
I'm no a fucking buftie and that's the end of it.
RENTON
Let's face it, it could have been wonderful.
Begbie leaps off the bed, grabs Renton and head-butts him, then holds him by
the lapel.
BEGBIE
Now, listen to me, you little piece of junky shit. A joke's a
fucking joke, but you mention that again and I'll cut you up.
Understand?
Begbie produces his knife. There is a knock on the door. They do not move.
There is another knock.
INT. BEDSIT. NIGHT
Begbie lies sleeping on the bed. There are now two sets of feet by his head,
one on each side. At the other end lie Renton (awake) and Sick Boy (asleep).
RENTON
(v.o)
Since I last saw him, Sick Boy had reinvented himself as a pimp
and a pusher and was here to mix business and pleasure, setting up
'contacts', as he constantly informed me, for the great skag deal
that was one day going to make him rich.
----------
INT. ESTATE AGENT'S OFFICE. DAY
Renton sits at his desk, haggard and tired. Other people bustle around him.
Telephones ring, etc... In the background the Man (who belched) is trying to
promote a flat down the telephone.
MAN
Beautifully converted Victorian town house. Ideally located in a
quiet road near to local shops and transport. Two bedrooms and a
kitchen/diner. Fully fitted in excellent decorative order. Lots of
storage space. All mod cons. Three hundred and twenty pounds a
week.
----------
INT. BEDSIT. NIGHT
Renton (still dressed for work), Begbie and Sick Boy sit in a line on the
bed with fish suppers laid out on their laps, but Renton's is untouched.
SICK BOY
Good chips.
RENTON
I can't believe you did that.
SICK BOY
I got a good price for it. Rents, I need the money.
RENTON
It was my fucking television.
SICK BOY
Well, Christ, if I'd known you were going to get so humpty about
it, I wouldn't have bothered. Are you going to eat that?
He takes Renton's fish supper and adds it to his own.
Have you got a passport?
RENTON
Why?
SICK BOY
Well, this guy I've met runs a hotel. Brother. Loads of contacts.
Does a nice little sideline in punting British passports to
foreigners. Get you a good price.
RENTON
Why would I want to sell my passport?
SICK BOY
It was just an idea.
INT. LEFT LUGGAGE ROOM. DAY
Renton drops his passport into an envelope and throws the envelope into a
locker. He turns the key and pockets it. RENTON (v.o)
I had to get rid of them. Sick Boy didn't do his drug deal and he
didn't get rich. Instead, he and Begbie just hung around my bedsit
looking for things to steal. I decided to put them in the worst
place in the world.
EXT. BUSY LONDON ROAD. DAY
Traffic floods past as before.
INT. LONDON FLAT. DAY
Inside the flat that Renton showed the couple around. Sick Boy and Begbie
are standing in the hallway. Renton is in the open doorway. He throws them
the keys and leaves.
INT. LONDON BEDSIT. NIGHT
The cramped bedsit is a mess, filled with litter and unwashed clothes.
Renton lies on his bed, content to be alone.
INT. LONDON FLAT. NIGHT
The flat is in darkness. The door opens a figure enters. It is the man from
Renton's office.
RENTON
(v.o)
But, of course, they weren't paying any rent, so when my boss
found two desperate suckers who would, Sick Boy and Begbie were
bound to feel threatened.
Man is followed by another couple. He switches on a light.
MAN
As you can see, it's a beautiful conversion. Two bedrooms,
kitchen/diner. Fully fitted. Lots of storage. All mod cons. Three
hundred and twenty quid a week.
From nowhere, Begbie and Sick Boy spring out at him.
----------
INT. BEDSIT. DAY
Renton looks around the stripped, empty bedsit one last time before closing
the door as he leaves.
----------
RENTON
(v.o)
And that was that. But by then we had another reason to go back.
Tommy.
EXT. RAILWAY. DAY
An InterCity train speeds by.
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. NIGHT
A kitten sits on the floor.
GAV
(v.o)
Tommy knew he had the virus, like, but never knew he'd gon
full-blown.
RENTON
(v.o)
What was it, pneumonia or cancer?
GAV
(v.o)
No, toxoplasmosis. Sort of like a stroke.
RENTON
(v.o)
Eh? How's that?
INT. CREMATORIUM CHAPEL. DAY
A service is in progress. Those present include Renton and Gav, who are
engaged in hushed conversation, Begbie, Spud, Sick Boy, and Lizzy.
GAV
He wanted to see Lizzy again.
He indicated Lizzy. Lizzy wouldn't let him near the house. So he brought a
present for her, brought her a kitten.
RENTON
I bet Lizzy told him where to put it.
GAV
Exactly. I'm not wanting a cat, she says. Get to fuck, right. So
there's Tommy stuck with this kitten. You can imagine what
happened. The thing was neglected, pissing and shitting all over
the place. Tommy was lying around fucked out of his eyeballs on
smack or downers. He didn't know you could get toxoplasmosis from
cat shit.
RENTON
I didn't either. What the fuck is it?
INT. TOMMY'S FLAT. DAY
The kitten as before. Slow track back to reveal more.
GAV
(v.o)
He starts getting headaches, so he just uses more smack, for the
pain, like. There he has a stroke. A fucking stroke. Just like
that. God home from hospital and died about three weeks later.
Been dead for ages before the neighbours complained about the
smell and the police broke the door down. Tommy was lying face
down in a pool of vomit.
The lower half of Tommy's clothed body is visible.
INT. CREMATORIUM CHAPEL. DAY
The coffin travels away. Gav and Renton watch it go.
GAV
The kitten was fine.
INT. PUB I. NIGHT
Gav, Renton, Spud, Sick Boy, Begbie and a few others are gathered in the
pub, still dressed in their funeral garb.
----------
SPUD
Every time I think of Tommy I think of Australian, because every
time I went round he was just lying there, junked out of his mind,
watching Aussie soaps. Until he sold the telly, of course, then he
was just lying there. Buy every time I think of him, I still think
of Australia.
----------
There is a short silence before Spud begins softly singing 'Two Little
Boys'. He finishes unaccompanied.
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. NIGHT
Spud, Begbie, and Renton are seated. Sick Boy is handing around bottles of
beer before he too sits down. They are all wearing their funeral garb.
Renton raises his bottle.
RENTON
Tommy.
They all drink.
SICK BOY
Did you tell him?
BEGBIE
No. On you go.
RENTON
What?
SICK BOY
There's a mate of swanney's. Mikey Forrester -- you know the guy.
He's come into some gear. A lot of gear.
RENTON
How much?
SICK BOY
About four kilos. So he tells me. Got drunk in a pub down by the
docks last week, where he met two Russian sailors. They're fucking
carrying the stuff. For sale there and then, like. So he wakes up
the next morning, realizes what he's done and get very fucking
nervous. Wants rid of this. {---------- He's looking for Swanney
to punt it, but Swanney's nowhere to be seen since he lost his
leg. ----------}
RENTON
So?
SICK BOY
So he met me and I offered to take it off his hands at a very
reasonable price, with the intention of punting it on myself to a
guy I know in London.
RENTON
So we've just come from Tommy's funeral and you're telling me
about a skag deal?
BEGBIE
Yeah.
There is silence.
RENTON
What was your price?
SICK BOY
Four Grand.
RENTON
But you don't have the money?
SICK BOY
We're two thousand short.
RENTON
That's tough.
SICK BOY
Come on, Mark, every cunt knows you've been saving up down in
London.
RENTON
Sorry, boys, I don't have two thousand pounds.
BEGBIE
Yes, you fucking do. I've seen your statement.
RENTON
Jesus.
BEGBIE
Two thousand, one hundred and thirty-three pounds.
RENTON
Four kilos. That's what -- Ten years' worth? Russian sailors?
Mikey Forrester? What the fuck are you on these days? You've been
to jail, Spud, so what's the deal -- like it so much you want to
go back again?
SPUD
I want the money, Mark, that's all.
BEGBIE
If everyone keeps their mouth shut, there'll be no one going to
jail.
----------
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton is visible first, apparently talking to himself, then Diane.
RENTON
It's so simple. We buy it at four grand, we punt it at twenty to
this guy that Sick Boy knows, and he punts it at sixty. Everyone's
happy, everyone's in profit. I put up two. I come away with six.
DIANE
Unless you get caught.
RENTON
So long as everyone keeps their mouths shut, we'll not be getting
caught.
DIANE
So why have you told me about it?
RENTON
Well, you're not going to tell anyone, are you, and besides, I
thought we could meet up afterwards, maybe go somewhere together.
DIANE
I've got a boyfriend, Mark.
RENTON
What? Steady like?
DIANE
That's right: 'going steady' for four weeks now.
RENTON
And what age are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?
DIANE
Sixteen next month.
RENTON
Happy birthday.
DIANE
What do you think -- I should be carrying a torch for you?
Renton thinks it over.
RENTON
So, what's he like?
DIANE
Well, he's young and he's healthy.
They both laugh.
And you're such a deadbeat, Mark.
----------
INT. SWANNEY'S FLAT. DAY
Heroin is in the process of being prepared for injection: heated, drawn up,
etc. An arm is prepared for injection: sleeve rolled up, tourniquet bound,
veins tapped, etc. Mikey forrester, Sick Boy, Spud, and Begbie look on.
RENTON
(v.o)
I hadn't told anyone everything that was running through my mind
about what might happen in London. There were a lot of
possibilities I didn't want to talk to anyone about. Ideas best
kept to myself. What no one told me was that when we bought the
skag, some lucky punter would have to try it out. Begbie didn't
trust Spud and Sick Boy was too careful these days, so I rolled up
my sleeve and did what had to be done.
Renton injects the heroin into a vein in his arm.
RENTON
It's good, it's fucking good.
----------
EXT. BUS STATION. NIGHT
Renton walks past a Beggar huddling against a wall. The Beggar's sign reads:
'FALKLANDS VETERAN. I LOST MY LEG FOR MY COUNTRY. PLEASE HELP.' The beggar
is Swanney.
----------
RENTON
(v.o)
Yes, that hit was good. I promised myself another one before I got
to London -- just for old time's sake, just to piss Begbie off.
EXT. ROAD. NIGHT
The bus travels towards London.
INT. BUS. NIGHT
Sick Boy dabs at amphetamine. Spud drinks.
INT. BUS TOILET. NIGHT
Renton cooks up in the bus toilet.
RENTON
(v.o)
This was to be my final hit. But let's be clear about this:
there's final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be?
{----------Some final hits are actually terminal one way or
another, while others are merely transit points as you travel from
station to station on the junky journey through junky life.
----------}
INT. BUS. NIGHT
Begbie sits grimly. The others are relaxed.
RENTON
(v.o)
This was his nightmare. The dodgiest scam in a lifetime of dodgie
scams being perpetrated with three of the most useless and
unreliable fuck-ups in town. I knew what was going on in his mind:
any trouble in London and he would dump us immediately, one way or
another. He had to. If he got caught with a bagful of skag, on top
of that armed robbery shit, he was going down for fifteen to
twenty. Begbie was hard, but not so hard that he didn't shite it
off twenty years in Saughton.
BEGBIE
Did you bring the cards?
SICK BOY
What?
BEGBIE
The cards. The last thing I said to you was mind the cards.
SICK BOY
Well, I've not brought them.
BEGBIE
It's fucking boring after a while without the cards.
SICK BOY
Well, I've not brought them.
BEGBIE
It's fucking boring after a while without the cards.
SICK BOY
I'm sorry.
BEGBIE
Bit fucking late, like.
SICK BOY
Well, why didn't you bring them?
BEGBIE
Because I fucking told you to do that, you doss cunt.
SICK BOY
Christ.
EXT. LONDON. DAY
The bus travels through London.
EXT. STREET. DAY
The gang enter a cheap hotel. Begbie's bag contains the heroin.
INT. HOTEL. DAY
They are met by Andreas, a man in his late thirties of Mediterranean
appearance. He shakes Sick Boy's hand.
ANDREAS
These are your friends?
SICK BOY
These are the guys I told you about.
ANDREAS
OK.
SICK BOY
Is he here?
ANDREAS
Yes, he's here. I hope you didn't get followed or nothing.
BEGBIE
We didn't get followed.
Andreas leads them along a corridor and into a room.
INT. HOTEL ROOM. DAY
An exceptional Man is waiting. Andreas leaves the room and closes the door.
The Man opens both and tastes the heroin. He produces a set of kitchen
scales from his bag and weighs the two bags.
RENTON
(v.o)
Straight away he clocked us from what we were: small-time wasters
with an accidental big deal.
MAN
So what do you want for it?
BEGBIE
Twenty thousand.
MAN
But it's not worth more than fifteen.
BEGBIE
Ninteen.
The man shakes his head and lights a cigarette.
MAN
Nineteen I can't offer you, I'm sorry.
RENTON
(v.o)
This was a real drag to him. He didn't need to negotiate. I mean,
what the fuck were we going to do if he didn't buy it? Sell it on
the streets. Fuck that.
The deal is done. The Man hands over the money and waits as it is counted,
then leaves with the drugs.
(v.o)
We settled on sixteen thousand pounds. He had a lot more in the
suitcase, but it was better than nothing. And just for a moment it
felt really great, like we were all in it together, like friends,
like it meant something. A moment like that, it can touch you deep
inside, but it doesn't last long, not like sixteen thousand
pounds.
INT. LONDON PUB. DAY
The pub is crowded with afternoon drinkers. Renton, Spud, Sick Boy and
Begbie sit drinking. Begbie is still keeping a firm hand on the sports bag,
which now holds the money.
SICK BOY
So what are you planning with your share, Spud?
RENTON
Buy yourself that island in the sun?
BEGBIE
For four fucking grand? One plam tree, a couple of rocks, and a
sewage outflow.
SPUD
I don't know, maybe I'll buy something for my ma, and then buy
some good speed, no bicarb like, then get a girl, take her out
like, and treat her -- properly.
BEGBIE
Shag her senseless.
SPUD
No, I don't mean like that -- I mean something nice, like, that's
all --
BEGBIE
You daft cunt. If you're going to waste it like that, you might as
well leave it all to me. Now get the drinks in.
SICK BOY
I got a round already.
SPUD
I got the last one.
RENTON
It's your round Franco.
Begbie stands up.
BEGBIE
OK. Same again?
SICK BOY
I'm off for a pish. When I come back, that money's still here, OK?
RENTON
The moment you turn your back, we're out that door.
Sick Boy walks away towards the toilet.
SICK BOY
I'll be right after you.
BEGBIE
You'll never catch us, you flabby bastard. Right, see, when I come
back --
RENTON
We'll be half-way down the road with the money.
BEGBIE
I'd fucking kill you.
RENTON
I guess you would, Franco.
Begbie walks away to the bar. Spud and Renton look at each other and the bag
of money.
Are you game for it?
Spud looks at the bag and around the pub towards the toilet door and Begbie.
Begbie stands at the bar, awaiting the pints.
Well?
SPUD
Are you serious?
Renton looks around.
RENTON
I don't know. What do you think?
Spud says nothing. Suddenly they are interrupted.
SICK BOY
Still here, I see.
Sick Boy sits down.
RENTON
Why not? I know I would. Where's Franco?
Renton turns to see Begbie making his way through the crowd with the pints
helf precariously. As he reaches the table a Man standing with a group of
friends accidentally nudges Begbie, causing a pint to spill over him.
BEGBIE
For fuck's sake.
MAN
Sorry, mate, I'll get you another.
BEGBIE
All down my fucking front, you fucking idiot.
MAN
Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.
BEGBIE
Sorry's no going to dry me off, you cunt.
RENTON
Cool down, Franco. The guy's sorry.
BEGBIE
Not sorry enough for being a fat cunt.
MAN
Fuck you. If you can't hold a pint, you shouldn't be in the pub,
mate. Now fuck off.
Begie drops the remaining three pints. As the Man looks down to the falling
glasses, Begbie punches him in the face and knees him in the groin. A fight
breaks out between the Man and Begbie. Sick Boy rushes forward to restrain
Begbie. Renton sits still, not even looking at the fight or what follows.
His eyes are fixed on the bag while his hands fiddle. Begbie stabs Spud in
the hand.
SPUD
Jesus Christ.
SICK BOY
Good one, Franco.
BEGBIE
Shut you mouth or you'll be next.
SPUD
You've stabbed me, man.
BEGBIE
You were in my way.
Begbie, blade still in hand, addresses the entire pub.
And anyone in my way gets it, fucking gets it. Everybody hear
that? Everybody happy?
Nobody says anything. Renton is seated as before, avoiding Begbie's gaze.
Begbie addresses him.
Hey, Rent-boy, bring us down a smoke.
Renton does not move.
SICK BOY
We'd better go, Franco.
SPUD
I've got to get to the hospital, man.
BEGBIE
(to Spud)
You're not going to and fucking hospital.
(to Sick Boy)
You're staying there.
(to Renton)
And you bring me a fucking cigarette.
Renton swivels and stands up.
And the bag.
Renton lifts the bag and slowly approaches Begbie. Renton, nervous, hand
shaking, pulls a packet of cigarettes from a pocket and holds it towards
Begbie. Begbie does not move. Renton holds out the bag. Begbie takes it. Now
Renton selects a cigarette and hands it over to Begbie. Begbie inhales
deeply and then blows the smoke towards Renton
INT. HOTEL ROOM. DAY
Renton lies awake, sharing a bed with Sick Boy, who is asleep. Spud and
Begbie lie on the other, both asleep. Begbie has an arm draped over the bag,
holding it close. Renton gets up and goes to the small bathroom. He puts the
light on above the mirror and looks at himself. He washes his face and
drinks a glass of water, then walks back to the bedroom. Renton pulls on his
jacket and shoes. He stands over Begbie, then reaches carefully down to life
Begbie's arm up. As he does so he realizes that Spud is watching him. They
say nothing. Renton takes the bag. Begbie stirs but does not wake.
----------
Renton looks down at Spud for a moment before unzipping the bag. He pulls
out a small wad of cash, which he hands to Spud. Spud tucks the wad away.
----------
Renton walks to the door and opens it. He nods to Spud, then disappears.
INT. LOCKER. DAY
Envelope being removed.
INT. LEFT LUGGAGE. DAY
Renton takes the passport from the envelope.
EXT. STREET. DAY
Renton walks away.
RENTON
(v.o)
Now, I've justified this to myself in all sorts of ways: it wasn't
a big deal, just a minor betrayal, or we'd outgrown each other,
you know, that sort of thing, but let's face it, I ripped them
off. My so-called mayes. But Begbie, I couldn't give a shit about
him, and Sick Boy, well, he'd have done the same to me if only
he'd thought of it first, and Spud, well, OK, I felt sorry for
Spud -- he never hurt anybody.
INT. HOTEL. DAY
Prostitutes, punters, Sick Boy and Spud line the corridor as two Policement
walk past towards:
INT. HOTEL ROOM. DAY
Begbie goes radge.
EXT. STREET. DAY
RENTON
(v.o)
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false.
The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's going to change,
I'm going to change. This is the last of this sort of thing. I'm
cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life.
I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you:
the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing
machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good
health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home,
leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk
food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf,
washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed
pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking
ahead, to the day you die.
THE END
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