'Wish I'd gone down, not Spud.
'Here I was surrounded by my family
'and so-called mates
'and I've never felt so alone.
'Never in 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. It's never enough.
'Right now, it's nowhere near enough.
'I took all three earlier.
'18 hours to my next shot
'and the sweat on my back's 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.'
What's on the menu this evening, sir?
- Your favourite dish. - Excellent.
- Usual table, sir? - Why, thank you.
Would sir care to pay for his bill in advance?
No, stick it on my tab.
Credit limit was reached and breached some time ago.
Well, in that case...
Ah, hard currency.
That'll do nicely.
Can't be too careful
when dealing with your type, sir.
Would sir care for a starter?
- Some garlic bread? - No, thanks.
I'll proceed directly
to the intravenous injection of hard drugs.
As you wish, sir.
As you wish.
# "Perfect Day" # by Lou Reed
# Just a perfect day
# Drink sangria in the park
# And then later... #
Perhaps sir would like me to call for a taxi?
[Ambulance siren wails]
# Feed animals in the zoo...
[Ambulance siren wails outside]
# Oh, it's such a perfect day
# I'm glad I spent it with you
# Oh, such a perfect day
# You just keep me hanging on
# Just a perfect day
# Problems all left alone
# Weekenders on our own
# It's such fun
# Just a perfect day
# You made me forget myself
# I thought I was... someone else
# Someone good
# Oh, it's such a perfect day
# I'm glad I spent it with you
# Oh, such a perfect day
# You just keep me hanging on
[Bell rings]
Open your eyes!
Wake up! Come on, wake up!
# You're going to reap Just what you sow
[Renton breathes in sharply]
# You're going to reap Just what you sow
# You're going to reap Just what you sow ##
'I don't feel the sickness yet
'but it's in the post, that's for sure.
'I'm in the junkie 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've ever known
'will soon take hold of me.
'It's on its way.'
# Ooh, you've got green eyes
# Ooh, you've got blue eyes
# Ooh, you've got grey eyes
# And I've never seen anyone
# Quite like you before
# No, I've never met anyone
# Quite like you before ##
[Scraping back of bolts]
We'll help you, son.
You stay here till you get better.
We'll beat this together.
- I should go to the clinic. - No. No clinics.
No methadone.
It made you worse. You said so yourself.
You lied to us, son.
Your own mother and father!
You can bring some jellies...
No!
You're worse coming off that than you are with the heroin.
A clean break this time.
We'll keep an eye on you.
I appreciate what you're trying to do
but just bring me one more hit, plea...
I need one more fucking hit!
[Door closes]
You fuck!
Fuck it!
Well...
this is a good fucking laugh, isn't it?
You sweat that shite out your system.
If I come back and it's still here,
I'll fucking kick it out.
OK?
[Renton gasps]
God!
[Baby gurgles]
[Fanfare on TV]
[Gameshow host] Question number one.
The human immunodeficiency virus is a...?
Retrovirus.
Retrovirus is the right answer!
[Cheering and applause]
[Renton groans]
[Sick Boy] It's a mug's game, Mrs Renton.
I mean, I'm not saying I was blameless myself.
The time comes when you have to turn your back on that nonsense
and just say no.
[Resounding crunch]
A-A-A-AAH!
Just say no.
[Allison's voice] It's Dawn!
She's dead!
[Baby cries]
Agh!
Oh, no.
Not baby Dawn.
Oh, no.
No!
[Baby screams]
[Clank! Clank!]
[Gameshow host] Question number two.
HIV binds to which receptor on the host lymphocyte?
Which receptor is that?
[Renton's dad] CD4.
[Gameshow host] CD4 is the right answer!
[Cheering and applause]
Better than sex, Rents?
Better than sex?
The ultimate hit.
I'm a fucking adult,
I can find out for myself.
Well, I'm finding out, all right!
Tommy!
[Baby cries]
No!
Stop it.
Just fucking stop. Stop it.
Is he guilty...
or not guilty?
A-A-A-AH!
Mummy!
He's our son.
AAH!
A-A-A-AH!
DAWN! DA-A-A-A-WN!
STOP!
AAH!
DAWN!
Stop looking at me!
Stop!
A-A-A-A-AH!
AAH! AAH! AAH!
Mark...
AAH!
Mark!
There's something you need to do.
Ow!
[Bingo caller] Come alive, 35.
Box of tricks, 66.
[Renton's mum] Mark!
Mark, you've got a house!
House! House!
For goodness sake, Mark.
'It seems, however,
'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,
'that's when the real battle starts.
'Depression, boredom -
'you're so low, you want to top yourself.'
[Knocking]
[Renton] Tommy!
Tommy!
Tommy, it's Mark, man.
Getting out much, Tommy?
No.
Following the game at all?
No.
Nah. Me neither, really.
Did you take the test?
Aye.
Clear?
Aye.
That's nice.
I'm sorry, Tommy.
You got any gear on you?
No. I'm clean, man.
Well...
sub us then, mate.
I'm expecting a rent cheque.
Thanks, Mark.
No bother.
'No bother.
'None at all.
'Not for me, anyway.
'Still, it's easy to be philosophical
'when it's some other poor cunt with shite for blood.'
- What do you want? - Are you clean?
- Yes. - Is that a promise?
- It is, actually! - I'm only asking.
Is that hash I can smell?
- No. - I wouldn't mind some.
- It isn't. - It smells like it.
- You're too young. - I'm too young for what?
You're not getting any younger, Mark.
The world's changing,
music's changing,
even drugs are changing.
You can't stay in dreaming about heroin and Ziggy Pop.
It's Iggy Pop.
Whatever. The guy's dead, anyway.
Iggy toured last year. Tommy went to see him.
The point is, you've got to find something new.
'She was right. I had to find something new.
'Only one thing for it.'
[Loud house music]
# It's so fond, the feeling
# So fond, the feeling
# Bom, digi, digi Digi bom, digi bom ##
Lifestyle Letting Agency.
A beautifully converted Victorian townhouse.
'Ideally located in a quiet road
'near to local shops.
'This one's two bedrooms and a kitchen/diner.
'Fully fitted. Excellent decorative order.
'Lots of storage space, all mod cons.
'And it's going at... £320 a week.
'I settled in not too badly,
'kept myself to myself.
'Sometimes I thought about the guys
'but mainly, I didn't miss them.
'This was boom town
'where any fool could make cash from chaos.'
I've got a beautifully converted Victorian townhouse.
'I enjoyed the sound of it -
'profit, loss, margins,
'takeovers, lending, letting,
'sub-letting, sub-dividing.
'Cheating, scamming, breaking away.'
Who's got the keys to Talgarth Road?
'Lf society existed, I had nothing to do with it.
'For the first time,
'I was almost content.'
[Diane's voice] 'Dear Mark,
'Glad you found a job and somewhere to live.
'School's fine at the moment.
'I'm not pregnant - thanks for asking.
'Sick Boy wanted me to work for him.
'I told him where to go.
'Met Spud. He sends his regards.
'I think that's what he said.'
Tell Marky... Tell him...
'No-one has seen Tommy for ages.
'And Francis Begbie has been on TV a lot.
'He's wanted by the police
'because of an armed robbery in a jeweller's.
'Take care. Yours, with love, Diane.'
[Doorbell rings]
'Francis Begbie... '
Oh, no!
Armed robbery?
How could it be armed robbery with a fucking replica?
A scandal.
And the gear.
Look.
Supposed to be solid silver - it's fucking garbage!
There's young couples invest all their hopes in that stuff.
- It's a scandal. - Fucking right.
Another one of the wee Pot Noodles?
I'm fucking Lee Marvin!
[Sighs]
Hey, Rents.
'Begbie settled in in no time at all.'
I've no fucking cigarettes.
Aye, right.
# Till someone said, "I know this place"
# It was on the 15th floor
# It had a bar across the door
# It took an hour
# To prise it off and get inside
# It smelled as if someone had died
# The living room was full of flies
It's me.
Rents!
# Ooh, it's a mess, all right
# Yes, it's my flat
[Renton] 'Yeah, the guy's a psycho.
'But it's true -
'he's a mate an' all so what can you do? '
# I never thought I'd live so high
# Just like heaven If it didn't look like hell
# The lift is always full of piss
# The fifth floor landing smells of Vim...
Nip down the bookies and put a line on for us.
Can you no' go yourself?
Seeing as I'm a fugitive from the law
and I cannae walk the fucking streets, you go.
Here.
Doncaster.
Four forty.
Five pound to win - Bad Boy.
[Racing commentary on TV]
Fucking... Bring some fucking beer an' all.
[Begbie] Come on, Bad Boy.
Come on, son. Come on, son. Come on!
YEAH!
[Ecstatic shouting]
Bad Boy!
'Came in at 16 to one, and with the winnings...
'we went out to celebrate.'
[Loud Techno music]
'Diane was right -
'the world is changing.
'Music is changing,
'drugs are changing. Men and women are changing.
'One thousand years from now,
'there'll be no guys or girls, just wankers.
'Sounds great to me.
[Dancers blow whistles]
'It's just a pity no-one told Begbie.'
Fuck!
'We're heterosexual by default, not by decision.
'It's just a question of who you fancy.
'It's all about aesthetics and fuck-all to do with morality.'
Fuck!
'But you try telling Begbie that.'
I'm not a fucking buftie!
It could have been wonderful.
[Begbie snarls]
Fucking listen to me, piece of junkie shit!
You mention that again and I'll cut you up.
You understand?
'Since I last saw him,
'Sick Boy had reinvented himself
'as a pimp and a pusher.
'And was here, he said, to mix business and pleasure.
'Setting up contacts
'for the great skag deal
'that was one day gonna make him rich.'
Good chips.
I can't believe you did that.
I got a good price for it.
- I need the money. - It was my fucking telly!
If I'd known you'd get so humpty about it,
I wouldn't have bothered.
Fucking rented, anyway.
You gonna eat that?
Have you got a passport?
Why?
I met this bloke.
Runs a hotel...
Brothel.
Loads of contacts.
Does a nice side-line
in punting British passports to foreigners.
Get you a good price.
And why would I want to sell my passport?
It was just an idea.
'I had to get rid of them.
'Sick Boy didn't do his drug deal and didn't get rich.
'He and Begbie hung around my bedsit looking to steal things.
'I decided to put them in the worst place in the world.'
'But of course, they weren't paying any rent.
'So when my boss found two suckers who would,
'Sick Boy and Begbie were bound to feel threatened.'
Lots of storage. All mod cons.
320 quid a week.
YA-A-A-RGH!
'And that was that.
'But we had another reason to go back. Tommy.'
[Gav] Tommy knew he had the virus
but not that he'd gone full-blown.
Was it pneumonia or cancer?
No - toxoplasmosis.
It's like a stroke.
How's that?
He wanted to see Lizzy again.
She wouldn't let him near the house.
So he bought her a present. This kitten.
[Renton] Bet Lizzy told him where to fuckin' stick it.
[Gav] "I don't want a cat," she says.
So there's Tommy stuck with this kitten.
You can imagine what happened.
To those gathered here today,
Thomas McKenzie filled a number of roles in our lives...
The thing was neglected.
Pissing and shitting all over.
Tommy's lying about fucked out of his eyeballs
on smack or downers.
He never knew you could get toxoplasmosis from cat shit.
[Minister] He had a great lust for life.
Neither did I. What is it?
Fucking horrible.
It's like an abscess on your brain.
Fucking hell.
Then what happened?
[Gav] He starts getting headaches.
So he uses more smack, you know, for the pain, like.
And then he has a stroke.
A fucking stroke! Just like that.
Gets home from the hospital and dies three weeks later.
He'd been dead for ages
before neighbours complained about the smell
and got the police to break down the door.
Tommy was lying in a pool of vomit.
The kitten was fine.
All please rise for the committal.
[Spud sings] Did you think I would leave you crying
# When there's room on my horse for two?
# Climb up here, Tommy
# Don't be dying
# I can go just as fast with two
# When we grow up
# We'll both be soldiers
# And our horses will not be toys
# And I wonder if we'll remember
# When we were two little boys ##
Tommy!
Did you tell him yet?
- On you go. - What?
[Sick Boy] Swanney's mate...
You know him - Mikey Forrester.
[Renton] Aye.
He's come into some gear.
- A lot of gear. - How much gear?
About two kilos.
So he tells me.
He got drunk in a pub by the docks last week.
Met two Russian sailors.
They're fucking carrying the stuff.
For sale there and then, like.
He wakes up next morning,
realises what he's done, gets very nervous.
He wants rid of this.
So?
So, he met me.
I offered to take it at a reasonable price
so I could punt it on to a guy in London.
We're just back from Tommy's funeral
and you're discussing a skag deal?
Aye.
What was your price?
- Four grand. - You haven't got four grand.
We're 2,000 short.
Well, that's tough.
Mark, every cunt knows you've been saving up down in London.
I don't have two grand.
[Begbie] You fucking do.
I've seen your bank statement.
For fuck's sake!
Two thousand,
one hundred
and thirty-three pound.
Two kilos. What's that, ten years?
Mikey Forrester, Russian sailors -
what the fuck are you on?
Spud, you've been to jail.
You want to go back?
I just want the money.
Keep your mouths shut and no cunt goes to jail.
'There were a lot of possibilities
'running through my mind
'about what might happen in London.
'Things 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,
'I spiked my vein
'and I did what had to be done.'
It's good.
Oh, it's really fucking good!
[Renton groans with pleasure]
'That hit was good.
'I promised myself another before I got to London.
'Just one, for old time's sake.
'Just to piss Begbie off.
'This was his nightmare.
'The dodgiest scam in a life of dodgy 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.
'Lf he got caught with a bag of skag
'on top of that armed robbery, he'd go down for 15 to 20.
'Begbie was hard but not so hard
'that he didn't shite it off 20 years in Saughton.
'This was to be my final hit.
'But let's be clear -
'there's final hits and final hits.
'What kind was this to be? '
Did you bring the cards?
What?
- I told you to mind the cards. - I've not brought them.
It's fucking boring without the cards.
I'm sorry.
- Bit fucking late, like. - Why didn't you bring them?
I told you to, doss cunt!
Christ!
[Englishman] These your friends, right?
[Sick Boy] These are the guys I told you about.
- Well, is he here? - Yeah, he's here.
You didn't get followed or nothing?
Didn't get followed.
OK.
- All right? - Hi.
[Renton] 'Straight away,
'he saw what we were.
'Small-time wasters with an accidental big deal.'
Excuse me, gentlemen.
So...
how much would you like for this?
20,000.
[Derisive chuckle]
I don't think it's worth much more than 15.
'He didn't need to negotiate.
'What would we do if he didn't buy it?
'Sell it on the streets? Fuck that.'
Well, 19.
I'm terribly sorry. I can't go to 19.
Well, fucking 16 then.
OK.
Well, fucking 16 it is, then.
These, gentlemen,
are £2,000 bundles.
That's two...
That's four...
'We settled on £16,000.
'He'd a lot more in his suitcase
'but it was better than nothing.'
Thank you, gentlemen.
May I say it's been a pleasure haggling with you.
Fucking brand new.
OK?
Yes!
[Renton] 'For a moment,
'it felt great.
'Like we were in it together,
'like it meant something.
'A moment like that can touch you
'but it doesn't last long. Not like £16,000.'
Spud, any investments planned?
Gonna buy an island in the sun?
For 4,000? One palm tree and a sewage outflow!
I don't know, man.
I'm gonna get something for my ma.
And some good speed.
No bicarb.
Get a girl, take her out, treat her right...
And shag her?
No, man!
True love. True love.
But I could handle hot sex with a Jewish princess tonight!
Ya daft cunt!
- Or a Catholic. - Don't waste it.
Get the drinks. I got a round already.
I got the last one. Your round, Franco.
- OK. Same again? - I'm off for a piss.
See when I get back, that money's still here, OK?
No, we're out the door.
I'll be after you.
You'll never catch us, flabby.
But when I get back...
Be halfway down the street with the money.
- I'd fucking kill you. - I thought you might.
Thought you might.
Are you game for it?
What?
Well?
Are you serious?
Don't know. Don't know. What d'you think?
- Still here, I see. - Oh, aye.
- Wouldn't run out on a mate. - I would.
Where's Franco?
For fuck's sake!
Sorry. I'll buy you another.
You ruined my fucking suit, you fucking idiot!
I'm sorry.
"Sorry" won't dry me off, you cunt.
He says he's sorry.
Not sorry enough for being a fat cunt.
You can't even hold a pint. Now fuck off!
AAGH!
AAGH! OH, NO!
[Gut-wrenching kicks]
No, Franco, no...
For fuck's sake!
[Sick Boy] Fucking nice one, Franco(!)
- You cut me, man! - You were in my way.
AAH!
Anybody else wanna get in my fucking way?
You?
Hey, Rent-boy,
bring me down a fucking smoke.
[Sick Boy] We'd better go.
[Spud] To hospital.
You're not going to hospital. Stay there.
You bring me down a fucking cigarette.
And the bag.
[Begbie snores gently]
'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,
'that sort of thing.
'But let's face it, I ripped them off -
'my so-called mates.
'But Begbie, I couldn't give a shit about him.
'And Sick Boy, would have done the same,
'if he'd thought of it first.
'OK, I felt sorry for Spud.
'He never hurt anybody.
[Begbie] Bastard!
Move away, everybody. What's going on in there?
Open up. Open up now!
Bastard!
'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 gonna change.
'I'm going to change. This is the last of that.
'Now I'm cleaning up, going straight and choosing life.
'I'm looking forward to it.
'I'm gonna be just like you -
'the job, the family, the fucking big television,
'the washing machine, the car, the compact disc.
'Good health, low cholesterol,
'mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, 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, the day you die.'
DVD Subtitles by European Captioning Institute