Сценарий фильма на игле на русском

• • Автор сценария:
  • Ирвин Уэлш
  • Джон Ходж
• • Режиссер:
  • Дэнни Бойл

                                        





Trainspotting



Screenplay by


John Hodge



Based on the Novel by


Irvine Welsh



Directed by


Danny Boyle




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COMPLETED ON 4/21/97 
This is the original shooting screenplay. It contains some scenes which where cut from the final 
film. It was typed (yes, typed) into text format by Kale Whorton. I urge you to purchase both the 
novel, published by Norton (ISBN 0-393-31480-4) and the screenplay from Miramax 
Books/Hyperion (ISBN 0-7868-8221-2) Enjoy, Kale 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


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. CAFE. 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
TYPED AND HTMLed BY KALE WHORTON