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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