Screenplay by John Hodge

                         Based on the Novel by Irvine Welsh

               Shooting Draft

               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 (V.O.)
                         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 

               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 

               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 

               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 D.I.Y 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 for 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 wins, about human 
                         relationships and all the things 
                         that really don't matter when you've 
                         got a sincere and truthful junk 

                                     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 

                                     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.

                         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.

                         It's a waste of your life, Rents, 
                         poisoning your body with that shite.


               Renton's father and mother sit at the table eating.

               Renton is seated but not eating.

                         Every chance you've ever had, you've 
                         blown it, stuffing your veins with 
                         that filth.


               Gav wears the corporate jacket.

                         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.

                         From time to time, even I have 
                         uttered the magic words.

                         Are you serious?

                         Yeah. No more. I'm finished with 
                         that shite.

                         Well, it's up to you.

                         I'm going to get it right this 
                         time. Going to get it set up and 
                         get off it for good.

                         Sure, sure. I've heard it before.

                         The Sick Boy method.


                         Yeah, well, it surely worked for 

                         He's always been lacking in moral 

                         He knows a lot about Sean Connery.

                         That's hardly a substitute.

                         you'll need one more hit.

                         No, I don't think so.

                         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 

               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.

                         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 

                                     RENTON (V.O.)
                         This was typical of Mikey Forrester.
                              (on screen)
                         What the fuck are these?  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.

                         Opium suppositories. Ideal for 
                         your purpose. Slow release, like. 
                         Bring you down gradually. Custom 
                         fucking designed for your needs.

                         I want a fucking hit.

                         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?

                         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 

               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 

               He stumbles through.

                                     RENTON (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 

               INT. HORRIBLE TOILET - DAY

               This is the most horrible toilet in Britain.

               Alone, Renton makes his way through the horrors to a 


               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 


               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 

               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.


               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 

               The suppositories are in his hand. He holds them up, and 
               they twinkle in the light.

                         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?


                                     SICK BOY
                         Running time?

                         One hundred and sixteen minutes.

                                     SICK BOY

                         Lewis Gilbert.

                                     SICK BOY

                         Eh - Ian Fleming?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Fuck off! He never wrote any of 

                         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.

                         Who wrote it?

                                     SICK BOY
                         But you're looking better, it has 
                         to be said. Healthier. Radiant 

                         You don't know, do you?

                                     SICK BOY
                         And I wondered if you'd care to go 
                         to the park tomorrow.

                         The park?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Tomorrow afternoon. Usual set-up.

                         Who wrote it?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Roald Dahl.

                         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.

                         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 -

                         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.

                         So who else?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Charlie Nicholas, David Niven, 
                         Malcolm McLaren, Elvis Presley. -

                         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 

                         What about The Untouchables?

                                     SICK BOY
                         I don't rate that at all.

                         Despite the Academy award?

                                     SICK BOY
                         That means fuck all. The sympathy 

                         Right. So we all get old and then 
                         we can't hack it any more. Is that 

                                     SICK BOY

                         That's your theory?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Yeah, Beautifully fucking 

                         Give me the gun.

               EXT. PARK - DAY


               Sick Boy and Renton talk like Sean Connery.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Do you see the beast? Have you got 
                         it in you sights?

                         Clear enough, Moneypenny. This 
                         should present no significant 

               The gun fires and the dog yelps, jumps up and bites its 
               owner (the Skinhead).

                                     SICK BOY
                         For a vegetarian, Rents, you're a 
                         fucking evil shot.

               EXT. PARK - DAY

               Renton loads up again.

                                     RENTON (V.O.)
                         Without heroin, I attempted to 
                         lead a useful and fulfilling life 
                         as a good citizen.

               INT. CAFÉ - DAY

               Two milk-shakes clink together.

               Renton and Spud and seated at a booth, dressed in their 
               own fashion for job interviews.

                         Good luck, Spud.


                         Now remember --


                         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?


                         But try too hard --

                         And you might get the fucking job.



                         It's a tightrope, Spud, a fucking 

                         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.

                         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.

                         A little dab of speed is just the 

               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 

                         Indeed, yes, those halcyon days.

                                     MAN 1
                         One of Edinburgh's finest schools.

                         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?

                         Oh, really?

                                     MAN 1
                         Do you recall the school motto?

                         Of course, the motto, the motto --

                                     MAN 1
                         Strive, hope, believe and conquer.

                         Exactly. Those very words have 
                         been my guiding light in what is, 
                         after all, a dark and often hostile 

               Renton looks pious under scrutiny.

                                     MAN 2
                         Mr. Renton --


                                     MAN 2
                         You seem eminently suited to this 
                         post but I wonder if you could 
                         explain the gaps in your employment 

                         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.

                         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?

                         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.

                         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?

                         In a word, pleasure. My pleasure 
                         in other people's leisure.

                         What do you see as your main 

                         I love people. All people. Even 
                         people that no one else loves, I 
                         think they're OK, you know. Like 

                         Homeless people?

                         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 --

                         Mr. Murphy, {leaving your friend 
                         aside,} do you see yourself as 
                         having any weaknesses?

                         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.

                         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.

                         A little too well, if anything, a 
                         little too well, that's my only 
                         fear, compadre.

                         Another dab?

                         Would not say no, would not say 

               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 

               Freeze-frame: the glass in mid-air and Begbie's smiling 

                                     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 

               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.

                         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?


               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 

               As Begbie plays, the Man bites a crisp.

               Begbie miscues, rips the cloth and the ball flies off the 

               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.

                         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.

                         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.

                         And who the fuck do you think you 

               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.

                         How's it going with Gail?

                         No joy yet.

                         How long is it?

                         Six weeks.

                         Six weeks!

                         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.

                         Where did she come up with that?

                         She read it in Cosmopolitan.

                         Six weeks and no sex?

                         I've got balls like watermelons, 
                         I'm telling you.


               Gail and Lizzy are smoking and talking.

                         I read it in Cosmopolitan.

                         It's an interesting theory.

                         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 

                         What, and deny myself the only 
                         pleasure I get from him? Did I 
                         tell you about my birthday?

                         What happened?

                         He forgot. Useless motherfucker.


               Tommy and Spud seated as before. Their words are subtitled.

               As they are speaking Gail and Lizzy return and sit down.

                         Useless motherfucker, that's what 
                         she called me. I told her, I'm 
                         sorry, but theses things happen. 
                         Let's put it behind us.

                         That's fair enough.

                         Yes, but then she finds out I've 
                         bought a ticket for Iggy Pop the 
                         same night.

                         Went ballistic?

                         Big time. Absolutely fucking radge. 
                         'It's me or Iggy Pop, time to 

                         So what's it going to be?

                         Well, I've paid for the ticket.

                                     GAIL AND LIZZY
                         What are you two talking about?

                                     TOMMY AND SPUID
                         Football. What were you talking 

                                     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, 
                         segregated themselves from the 

               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.

                                     RENTON (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.

                         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.


                         What's your name?


                         Where are you going, Diane?

                         I'm going home.

                         Where's that?

                         It's where I live.



                         I'll come back if you like, but 
                         I'm not promising anything.

               Diane halts abruptly as a taxi pulls up.

                         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?


                         Well, what's wrong, boy? Cat got 
                         your tongue.

                         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.

                         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.


               In a darkened suburban hallway, the door opens and two 
               figures enter.




                         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 the 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 

                         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.

                         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-

                         Tommy, let's put the tape on.


                         Yes, I want to watch ourselves 
                         while we're screwing.

                         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.

                         Christ, I haven't felt that good 
                         since Archie Gemmill scored against 
                         Holland in 1978.

                         Right. You can't sleep here.



                         Come on.

                         No argument. You can sleep on the 
                         sofa in the living room, or go 
                         home. It's up to you.


                         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.

                         What do you mean, it's 'gone'? 
                         Where has it gone, Tommy?

                         It'll be here somewhere. I might 
                         have returned it by mistake.

                         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.


               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.


               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.


               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.

                         Come in and sit down. You must be 

               Renton walks to the table and sits down.

                         Yes, that's me.

                         You're a friend of Diane's?

                         More of a friend of a friend, 


                         Are you her flatmates?

               The couple exchange a look and laugh.

                         Flatmates. I must remember that 

               The Man and Woman look beyond Renton. He too turns and 
               follows their gaze.

               Diane stands in the doorway.

               She is wearing school uniform.


               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.

                         Good morning, Spud.

                         Morning, Gail. Morning, Mrs. 
                         Houston, Mr. Houston.

                         Morning, Spud. Sit down and have 
                         some breakfast.

                         Sorry about last night -

                         It's all right. I slept fine on 
                         the sofa.

                         I had a little too much to drink. 
                         I'm afraid I had a slight accident.

                         Oh, don't worry, these things 
                         happen. It does everyone good to 
                         cut loose once in a while.

                         This one could do with being tied 
                         up once in a while.

                         I'll put the sheets in the washing 
                         machine just now.

                         No, I'll wash them. I'll take them 
                         home and bring them back.

                         There's no need.

                         It's no problem.

                         No problem for me either.  Honestly, 
                         it's no problem.

                         I'd really rather take care of it 

                         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.

                         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.

                         I don't see why not.

                         Because it's illegal.

                         Holding hands?

                         No, not holding hands.

                         In that case you can do it. You 
                         were quite happy to do a lot more 
                         last night.

                         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 

               They stop at the school gates.

                         Calm down. You're not going to 

                         Easy for you to say.

                         Can I see you again?

                         Certainly not.

               Renton walks away.

                         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.

                         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.

                         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?

                         We go for a walk.


                         A walk.

                         But where?

               Tommy points vaguely across the moor.


                                     SICK BOY
                         Are you serious?

               They step across the tracks toward the vast moorland. They 

               All but Tommy sit down on rocks or clumps of heather.

                         Well, what are you waiting for?

                         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.

                         It's the great outdoors.

                                     SICK BOY
                         It's really nice, Tommy. Can we go 
                         home now?

                         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.

                         Doesn't it make you proud to be 

                         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.

                                     RENTON (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.


               Renton's Mother and Father sit reading the paper and a 


               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.

                         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.


               A few elderly patients sit in armchairs watching daytime 

               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.

                         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 

               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.


               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 

               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.

                         And remember, Rents: no skag.

                         Aye, OK, Fr.  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 

               Sick Boy stands over the bundle. The baby is dead.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Oh, fuck. Sick Boy reaches out to 

                                     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 --

                         I'm cooking' up. There is a silence.

               Renton begins scrambling around through the works.

                         Cook one for me, Renton. I need a 

                                     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 

               EXT. STREET - DAY

               Renton, Spud and Sick Boy cross the road to approach the 

                                     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.

                         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.

                         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 

                                     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.

                                     RENTON (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.

                                     RENTON (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.

                         ...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 

                         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.

                                     RENTON (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.

                         I hope you've learned your lesson, 

                         Oh, my son, I thought I was going 
                         to lose you there. You're nothing 
                         but trouble to me, but I still 
                         love you.

                         Clean up your act, sunshine. Cut 
                         that shite out for ever.

                         You listen to Francis, Mark, he's 
                         talking sense.

                         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.

                         I remember when you were a baby, 
                         even when you would never do what 
                         you were told.

                         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.

                         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.

                         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.

                         What's on the menu this evening?

                         Your favourite dish.


                         Your usual table, sir?

                         Why, thank you.

               Renton sits on his usual cushion on the floor.

                         And would sir care to settle his 
                         bill in advance?

                         Stick it on my tab.

                         Regret to inform, sir, that your 
                         credit limit was reached and 
                         breached a long time ago.

                         In that case --

               He produces twenty pounds.

                         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?

                         No, thank you. I'll proceed directly 
                         to the intravenous injection of 
                         hard drugs, please.

                         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.

                         Perhaps sir would like me to call 
                         for a taxi?

               An ambulance siren becomes faintly audible.


               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.


               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.


               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.


               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.


               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.

                         We'll help you, son. You'll stay 
                         with us until you get better. We'll 
                         beat this together.

                         Maybe I could go back to the clinic.

                         No. No clinics, no methadone. That 
                         made you worse, you said so 
                         yourself. You lied to us, son, 
                         your own mother and father.

                         At least get us some Tempazepam.

                         No, you're worse coming off that 
                         than you are with heroin. Nothing 
                         at all.

                         It's a clean break this time.

                         You're staying where we can keep 
                         an eye on you.

                         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.

                         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 

               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.

                         '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 

               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.

                         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 

               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.

                         Mark, there's something you need 
                         to do.

               INT. CONSULTING ROOM - DAY

               A Doctor stands up as Renton enters.

                         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.


               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 

                         Question number one: the human 
                         immunodeficiency virus is a - what?


                         Retrovirus is the correct answer.


                         Question number two: HIV binds to 
                         which receptor on the host 
                         lymphocyte? Which Receptor?

               Mother and Father confer.


                         CD4 receptor is the correct answer.


                         And now, question number three: is 
                         he guilty or not guilty?

                         He's our son.

                         Is the correct answer.


                         And now it's time to 'Take the 

               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-
     , 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.

                         Mark...Mark, you've got a house. 
                         House! House!  For goodness's sake, 

               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 

                         Are you getting out much?


                         Following the game at all?


                         No. Me Neither.

               Renton drops the ball. It rolls to a halt in the corner. 
               He sits down.

                         You take the test?




                         That's nice.

                         I'm sorry, Tommy.

                         Have you got any gear on you?

                         No, I'm clean.

                         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.

                         Thanks, Mark.

                         No problem.  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.

                         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.


                         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 


                         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 

                         Sounds great, Swanney.


                         You'll have to send us a postcard.

                         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.

                         It wasn't that bad.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Did he -- you know?


                                     SICK BOY
                         You know.

                         No, he didn't make me touch it.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Oh no, don't even mention it.

                         He made me lick it.

                                     SICK BOY
                         God, you're sick.

                         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.

                         When are you going to visit him?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Don't know. Maybe Thursday.

                         You're a real mate. And what about 
                         Tommy? Have you been to see him 

               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 

                         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?

                         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 

                         What do you want?

                         Are you clean?


                         Is that a promise, then?

                         Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.

                         Calm down, I'm just asking. Is 
                         that hash I can smell?


                         I wouldn't mind a bit, if it is.

                         Well, it isn't.

                         Smells like it.

                         You're too young.

                         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.

                         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.

                         It's Iggy Pop.

                         Whatever. I mean, the guy's dead 

                         Iggy Pop is not dead. He toured 
                         last year. Tommy went to see him.

                         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.


               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 map 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.

                         Can you take this call?

               Renton takes the telephone and reaches for a piece of paper 
               from which he reads.

                         Hello, yes, certainly. It's a 
                         beautifully converted Victorian 
                         town house. Ideally located in a 
                         quiet road near to local shops and 

               Renton checks his watch.

               EXT. THE A1 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 

                                     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, Francis 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.

                         Oh no.


               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.

                         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 

               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?

                         It's a scandal, Franco.

                         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 

               Begbie opens a can of beer. Renton closes the door.


               Renton closes his door. He is about to walk away when he 
               heard Begbie shouting.

                              (from the bedsit)
                         Rents, Rents, come fucking back 

               Renton opens the door. Begbie is holding out an empty packet 
               of cigarettes.



                         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 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 

                                     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.  

                         Hey, I'm wanting a bet put on.

                         Can you not go yourself.

                         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.


               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 

                                     RENTON (V.O.)
                         Bad Boy came in at 16 to 1. And 
                         with the winnings, we went out to 

               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 

                         I'm no a fucking buftie and that's 
                         the end of it.

                         Let's face it, it could have been 

               Begbie leaps off the bed, grabs Renton and head-butts him, 
               then holds him by the lapel.

                         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.


               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 

                         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 

               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.

                         I can't believe you did that.

                                     SICK BOY
                         I got a good price for it. Rents, 
                         I need the money.

                         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?


                                     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.

                         Why would I want to sell my 

                                     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 

               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.

                         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. 

               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 gone full-blown.

                                     RENTON (V.O.)
                         What was it, pneumonia or cancer?

                                     GAV (V.O.)
                         No, toxoplasmosis. Sort of like a 

                                     RENTON (V.O.)
                         Eh? How's that?


               A service is in progress. Those present include Renton and 
               Gav, who are engaged in hushed conversation, Begbie, Spud, 
               Sick Boy, and Lizzy.

                         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.

                         I bet Lizzy told him where to put 

                         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.

                         I didn't either. What the fuck is 

               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 

               The lower half of Tommy's clothed body is visible.


               The coffin travels away. Gav and Renton watch it go.

                         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.

                         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?

                         No. On you go.


                                     SICK BOY
                         There's a mate of swanney's. Mikey 
                         Forrester -- you know the guy.  
                         He's come into some gear. A lot of 

                         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. ----------


                                     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.

                         So we've just come from Tommy's 
                         funeral and you're telling me about 
                         a skag deal?


               There is silence.

                         What was your price?

                                     SICK BOY
                         Four Grand.

                         But you don't have the money?

                                     SICK BOY
                         We're two thousand short.

                         That's tough.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Come on, Mark, every cunt knows 
                         you've been saving up down in 

                         Sorry, boys, I don't have two 
                         thousand pounds.

                         Yes, you fucking do. I've seen 
                         your statement.


                         Two thousand, one hundred and thirty-
                         three pounds.

                         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?

                         I want the money, Mark, that's 

                         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.

                         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.

                         Unless you get caught.

                         So long as everyone keeps their 
                         mouths shut, we'll not be getting 

                         So why have you told me about it?

                         Well, you're not going to tell 
                         anyone, are you, and besides, I 
                         thought we could meet up afterwards, 
                         maybe go somewhere together.

                         I've got a boyfriend, Mark.

                         What? Steady like?

                         That's right: 'going steady' for 
                         four weeks now.

                         And what age are you? Thirteen? 

                         Sixteen next month.

                         Happy birthday.

                         What do you think -- I should be 
                         carrying a torch for you?

               Renton thinks it over.

                         So, what's he like?

                         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.

                         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.

                         Did you bring the cards?

                                     SICK BOY

                         The cards. The last thing I said 
                         to you was mind the cards.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Well, I've not brought them.

                         It's fucking boring after a while 
                         without the cards.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Well, I've not brought them.

                         It's fucking boring after a while 
                         without the cards.

                                     SICK BOY
                         I'm sorry.

                         Bit fucking late, like.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Well, why didn't you bring them?

                         Because I fucking told you to do 
                         that, you doss cunt.

                                     SICK BOY

               EXT. LONDON - DAY

               The bus travels through London.

               EXT. STREET - DAY

               The gang enter a cheap hotel. Begbie's bag contains the 

               INT. HOTEL - DAY

               They are met by Andreas, a man in his late thirties of 
               Mediterranean appearance. He shakes Sick Boy's hand.

                         These are your friends?

                                     SICK BOY
                         These are the guys I told you about.


                                     SICK BOY
                         Is he here?

                         Yes, he's here. I hope you didn't 
                         get followed or nothing.

                         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.

                         So what do you want for it?

                         Twenty thousand.

                         But it's not worth more than 


               The man shakes his head and lights a cigarette.

                         Nineteen I can't offer you, I'm 

                                     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.

                                     RENTON (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?

                         Buy yourself that island in the 

                         For four fucking grand?  One palm 
                         tree, a couple of rocks, and a 
                         sewage outflow.

                         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.

                         Shag her senseless.

                         No, I don't mean like that -- I 
                         mean something nice, like, that's 
                         all --

                         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.

                         I got the last one.

                         It's your round Franco.

               Begbie stands up.

                         OK. Same again?

                                     SICK BOY
                         I'm off for a pish. When I come 
                         back, that money's still here, OK?

                         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.

                         You'll never catch us, you flabby 
                         bastard. Right, see, when I come 
                         back --

                         We'll be half-way down the road 
                         with the money.

                         I'd fucking kill you.

                         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 


                         Are you serious?

               Renton looks around.

                         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.

                         Why not? I know I would. Where's 

               Renton turns to see Begbie making his way through the crowd 
               with the pints half precariously. As he reaches the table 
               a Man standing with a group of friends accidentally nudges 
               Begbie, causing a pint to spill over him.

                         For fuck's sake.

                         Sorry, mate, I'll get you another.

                         All down my fucking front, you 
                         fucking idiot.

                         Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.

                         Sorry's no going to dry me off, 
                         you cunt.

                         Cool down, Franco. The guy's sorry.

                         Not sorry enough for being a fat 

                         Fuck you. If you can't hold a pint, 
                         you shouldn't be in the pub, mate. 
                         Now fuck off.

               Begbie 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.

                         Jesus Christ.

                                     SICK BOY
                         Good one, Franco.

                         Shut you mouth or you'll be next.

                         You've stabbed me, man.

                         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 

               Renton does not move.

                                     SICK BOY
                         We'd better go, Franco.

                         I've got to get to the hospital, 

                              (to Spud)
                         You're not going to and fucking 
                              (to Sick Boy)
                         You're staying there.
                              (to Renton)
                         And you bring me a fucking 

               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 mates. 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 

               INT. HOTEL - DAY

               Prostitutes, punters, Sick Boy and Spud line the corridor 
               as two Policemen 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, D.I.Y, 
                         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