Digested read: Skagboys by Irvine Welsh

Cape, £12.99

Even the plank stiffness of this old, unyielding settee can't arrest my prose's slink into vernacular weein a few pages. But at least youse all kna I can write proper n aw. I'm thinkin aw tha taime ma Da took me ta picket Orgreave n the polis cracked ma heid cos ah thoat it a be guid ta put Thatcher in the frame for ma bein a skaggie as thas the kinda shite tha goes doon well wi aw youse London bleedin heart fookin pooves tha made me a millionaire.

Well thanks a fooking lot for givin us loadsa hooses and a much younga wee lassie, but tae tell the truth ahd a bin a skaggie anyways, job aw nae job, cos the thing aboot when youse start shootin the broon – it used tae be the white but youse cannae git tha gear nae more as the polis busted the Glaxo factory – youse jes cannae stoap. Soas when ah foond aw this crap ahd written aboot Rents n Sick Boy n Begbie n aw years agaw before ahd even started Trainspotting, it were laike coomin across a kilo o the purest at the same taime as I wus doin some barry burd oop the erse. I couldnae fookin resist n nor could ah stoap. Which is wha this boak is twice as fookin long.

Jaysus. Ahd guess ye bams are sayin to yoosehns tha you nae can tell whois storra is which seein as maist o tha o written in the fairst person n the chaptas switch cenral characters. Well gae fook yesehn, cos ah dinnae care a shite. Thas tha oother thing aboot tha broon – apart fra nae givin a shite – is that it's aw chaos n everyone's oot for theysein. Including me.

Me ma wus deid pleised when I goat into Aberdeen University, n tho I was doin tha odd hit noo n agin, I thoat I hudda ma habit under control. I hud stoaped doin Hazel and ah wuz pleased to git awa fra Edinburgh as ma family were nae happy tha had been chuggin off ma disabled brotha. They thoat ah was laike a perve o somat but ah thoat it were onla taime Wee Davie smiled. Anyways he croaked when ah were at uni, but ah weren't tha bothered. He were well oot a i. Bah then ahd already dumped Fiona, the onlae burd ah ever loved who ahd met Interrailing, cos the smack had tae coom fairst.

Fook sake, can youse believe youse jes read a whole lotta dull shite aboot some smackheid Interrailing. Posh fooking gadge. That were Rents, ba the way. Youse wa nae get that kaind aw shite fra Sick Boy. I'll gi youse the real gross shite tha will gi you middle-class ponces with tha 'Ahm so doon wiv the kiz coz ah smoke a bi a dope and do a few lines a coke' the fookin hardons you long fa. Incest? Beating the shite outta fitba fans? Getting ma under-age lassie on tha gaime soas ah canna score offa Swanney? Shittin, pissin, pukin? Nae problem.

So Sick boy and me went doon to London to gae off the skaggie a wee bi and stay wi Nicksy who youse can guis issa cokvkey cos he sais farkin nae fookin an we gets a joab wrirkin the ferries tryin tae smuggle smack ba we fook that oop as weill, tha ah dun sum mae shaggin wiv Charlene, soas we gae back ta Leith.

The thing about junk is tha eis wun fookin hit efter anotha an thats all, and tho Spud ODs and Matty, Ali and Tommy all gae theyselves fooked oop, it all kind reads tha same. I mean ah try to give a shite aboot Aids, but nae junky really doas they wannae the fookin needele so ba, and even tho I name drop Kierkegaard an Ullyses, it donna stoap it allus becomin deid borin. I mean even in rehab when ahm shaggin the umpteenth burd oop tha erse, tha knas ah no wanna give oop as laike otherwise there's nae fookin Trainspotting an the reality is tha efter 550 pages ov junk tales n aw ahm really onla a tha beginnin.

Digested read, digested: Overdose of junk

Contributor

John Crace

The GuardianTramp

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