Trainspotting (Mark Renton series Book 2)

by Irvine Welsh

Get the fuck oan or fuck off and die ya foostie auld cunt.

Ah almost choked in silent rage at her selfish pettiness and the bus driver’s pathetic indulgence of the cunt. People talk aboot youngsters and vandalism, what aboot the psychic vandalism caused by these auld bastards?

The fact that you use the term ‘cunt’ in the same breath as ‘sexist’, shows that ye display the same muddled, fucked-up thinking oan this issue as you do oan everything else.

—You want yir mooth punched? the boy sais. —Think ah’m gaunny jist sit here n lit ye dae it? Fuckin wide-o! Ootside then cunt. Cu-mauugghhnn!

The trainee manager whae welcomed us wis a mucho spotty punter in a sharp suit, wi dandruff oan the shoodirs like piles ay fuckin cocaine. Ah felt like takin a rolled up fiver tae the cunt’s tin flute.

Thank fuck for spotted dick.

Ah don’t hate the English. They’re just wankers. We are colonised by wankers. We can’t even pick a decent, vibrant, healthy culture to be colonised by. No. We’re ruled by effete arseholes. What does that make us? The lowest of the fuckin low, the scum of the earth.

Ehm…we’re from Toronto, Canada. —Tirawnto.

Part of him believes that he is by far the most attractive person in the bar. The reason for this being that he can always find something hideous in the most gorgeous individual. By focusing on that isolated ugly part, he can then mentally nullify their beauty. On the other hand, his own ugly bits don’t bother him, because he is used to them, and in any case, can’t see them.

—The Simple Minds huv been pure shite since they jumped on the committed, passion-rock bandwagon of U2.

Renton stopped feeling her and tried to imagine that he was shagging Margaret Thatcher, Paul Daniels, Wallace Mercer, Jimmy Savile and other turn-offs, in order to bring himself off the boil.

The acceptance ay self-defeating limitations seemed then tae constitute mental health, or non-deviant behaviour.

Society invents a spurious convoluted logic tae absorb and change people whae’s behaviour is outside its mainstream.

A twilight zone ay the senses where nothing’s real except the crushing, omnipresent misery n pain in your mind n body.

place ay dispossessed white trash in a trash country fill ay dispossessed white trash. Some say that the Irish are the trash ay Europe. That’s shite. It’s the Scots. The Irish hud the bottle tae win thir country back,

Ah remember gettin wound up when Nicksy’s brar, down in London, described the Scots as ‘porridge wogs’. Now ah realise that the only thing offensive about that statement was its racism against black people. Otherwise it’s spot-on. Anybody will tell you; the Scots make good soldiers. Like ma brar, Billy.

Now there is apparently a causal link between heroin addiction and vegetarianism.

Hash? Hash! You’re a fuckin comedian. Might as well try tae combat third world famine wi a packet ay frozen peas.

Aye, but whit’s she saying? Ah bet it’s somethin like: Your deek eez so how you say, tynee, ‘ave you starteed yet…Ah bet that’s whit she speaks in French fir.

Ah’ve never known such a sense ay complete and utter hopelessness, punctuated only by bouts ay raw anxiety. It immobilises me to the extent that ah’m sittin in the chair hating a tv programme, yet ah feel something terrible will happen if ah try tae switch ower.

daft cunt.

Jack loves this band <3

He’s pretty bevvied.

She wis drunk n dazed, her face flushed and bloated wi alcohol n pregnancy.

It’s as if everything is a copy of what you knew before, similar, yet somehow lacking in its usual qualities, a bit like the wey things are in a dream.

We’d throttle the life oot ay each other fir the privilege ay rimmin some English aristocrat’s piles.

This sortay gits us thinkin. How the fuck dae ah ken ah’m no a homosexual if ah’ve nivir been wi another guy? Ah mean, really fir sure? Ah’ve always hud a notion tae go aw the wey wi another guy, tae see what it wis like. Ah mean, yuv goat tae try everything once. Huvin said that, ah’d huvtae be in the drivin seat. Ah couldnae handle some cunt’s knob up ma erse.

Anywey, ah widnae mind gaun aw the wey wi a gadge, if it felt right. Jist fir the experience. Problem is, ah only really fancy birds. Guys jist dinnae look sexy. It’s aw aboot aesthetics, fuck all tae dae wi morality.

—Is that the royal ‘we’ Tom? When you’re HIV positive, tell me aw about it.

By definition, you have to live until you die. Better to make that life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be.

Ah’ve never felt so close tae other women before, and I really did wish I was gay.

It’s not funny laughter. This is lynch mob laughter.

At least we’ll be prepared, whaeivir the fuck it is. If they gave oot qualifications in bereavement, ah’d be a fuckin Ph.D. by now.

As Graham’s busy preparing the main courses, ah take the bloodied tampon and lower it, like a tea-bag, intae the first bowl ay soup. Ah then squeeze its manky contents oot wi a fork. A couple ay strands ay black, uteral lining float in the soup, before being dissolved wi a healthy stir.

Ah dilute the carafe ay wine with ma pish; it looks a bit cloudy, but they’re so smashed they winnae notice. Ah pour a quarter ay the wine intae the sink, topping up the carafe with ma pish de resistance.

These pricks eat and drink everything withoot even noticing.

Ah feel charged wi a great power, actually enjoying their insults. It’s a lot easier tae keep smiling now. The fat bastard has drawn the short straw though; his ice-cream is laced wi ground up traces of rat poison. Ah hope Graham doesnae get intae trouble. I hope they dinnae close the restaurant doon.

The White Swan disnae fuck ower his mates. Golden rule number one. No fir smack, no fir nowt. Nivir question the integrity ay the White Swan oan that issue, Rents.

—Funny how it aw works oot, eh? It wis you n Spud n Sick Boy n Swanney n that, thit goat us intae the H. Ah used tae sit n huv a bevvy wi Second Prize n Franco an laugh at yis, call yis aw the daft cunts under the sun. Then ah split fae Lizzy, mind? Went tae your bit. Ah asked ye fir a hit. Ah thoat, fuck it, ah’ll try anythin once. Been tryin it once ivir since.

Tommy tae take that first shot, jist by having the gear thair? Possibly. Probably. How guilty did that make us? Guilty enough.

Ah’m thinkin aboot Matty’s funeral. It’s odds on Tommy’s next and there’s fuck all anybody kin dae aboot it. Especially me.

He does steady business. Some people furtively drop coins into his hat. Others, resentful at the intrusion of misery into their lives, turn away or resolutely look ahead. Women give more than men; young people more than their elders; people who appear to be of the most modest means seem more generous than the affluent looking.

—Ye know son, ah’ll hate that Thatcher till ma dyin day. Thir isnae a day goes by whin ah dinnae curse her.

Even in his Ma’s womb, you would have had to define Spud less as a foetus, more as a set of dormant drug and personality problems.