Trainspotting Page #5

MIKEY:

Opium suppositories. Ideal for

your purpose. Slow release, like.

Bring you down gradually. Custom

f***ing designed for your needs.

RENTON:

I want a f***ing hit.

MIKEY:

That's all I've got: take it or

leave it.

Renton sticks his hand down the back of his trousers and

sticks the suppositories into his rectum.

MIKEY:

Feel better now?

RENTON:

For all the good they've done me I

might as well have stuck them up

my arse.

He smiles.

EXT. STREET - DAY

RENTON (V.O.)

Heroin makes you constipated. The

heroin from my last hit is fading

away and the suppositories have

yet to melt. I am no longer

constipated.

He looks around the local amenities. He is in discomfort,

clutching his abdomen and falling to his knees.

He notices a betting shop.

INT. BETTING SHOP - DAY

Renton walks through the crowded, smoky betting shop towards

a door marked 'toilet' with a bit of card.

RENTON (V.O.)

I fantasize about massive pristine

convenience.

He stumbles through.

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

anywhere.

INT. HORRIBLE TOILET - DAY

This is the most horrible toilet in Britain.

Alone, Renton makes his way through the horrors to a

cubicle.

INT. HORRIBLE TOILET CUBICLE - DAY

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