Irvine Welsh - Skagboys

Keezbo’s really fucked. He’s nearly greetin, as he keeps gaun up tae the Judas Hole n bangin oan the door. — Ah goat oaf the balcony, he moans, — now ah’m stuck in here!

Dae yir fuckin nut in, that fat cunt .

Matty’s sittin oan a bench, heid focused oan the flair in front ay him. Two polis come in wi cups ay tea, n he looks up n takes the words oot ma mooth: — We really need the hoaspital, mate, he says tae one copper. — We’re aw really seek, like.

The polisman keeps his face set in a neutral expression. He’s a fairly lardy cunt but with keen eyes, a porker who’s just demolished his trough’s contents but eagerly awaits its new load ay swill. — I wis thinking that ah might check youse intae the North British Hotel for a couple ay weeks. Till yis ur feelin a wee bit better like. Or maybe youse might prefer the Caledonian?

Like the daft cunt he is, Matty turns tae me n Keezbo n goes, — Dunno, what dae youse think?

— Ah think you need tae learn tae spot a wind-up, Matty, ah goes.

— Aw … right …

The cops are laughin thair heids oaf at his miserable torn-up coupon. Keezbo’s sittin doon oan the bench and is turned away intae the waw, n while ah feel like ah’m betrayin Matty, ah cannae help, even through ma pain, joinin in the joke.

THE COPPER STARES at us in utter contempt. Nae wonder; aw he sees in front ay um is this mingin cunt, twitchin n spazzin oan this hard seat in the interview room. — Ah’m oan the programme, ah tell um. — Check if ye like. Ah’m aw seek cause they nivir gied us enough methadone. They said they hud tae fine-tune ma dosage. Check wi the lassie at the clinic if ye dinnae believe us .

— Boo-fucking-hoo, he sais, a mean expression oan his face. — Why am I not tearing up on your behalf, my sweet, sweet friend?

This cunt has cold black eyes set in a white face. If he didnae huv a dark pudding-basin haircut and his neb wis bigger, he’d be like one ay Moira and Jimmy’s budgies. The other polisman, a louche, slightly effeminate-looking blond boy, is playing the benign role. — Just tell us who gives you that stuff, Mark. Come on, pal, give us some names. You’re a good lad, far too sensible tae get mixed up in aw this nonsense. He shakes his heid and then looks up at me, lip curled doon thoughtfully. — Aberdeen University, no less .

— But if ye check yi’ll find that ah’m oan the programme … at the clinic likes .

— Bet these student birds bang like fuck! In they halls ay residence. It’ll be shaggin aw the time in thaire, eh, pal? the Pudding-Basin-Heided Cunt goes .

— Just one name, Mark. C’mon, pal, begs Captain Sensible .

— Ah telt ye, ah say, as sincerely as ah kin, — ah see this boy up at the bookies, ah jist ken him as Olly. Dinnae even know if that’s his right name. Gen up. The staff at the clinic’ll confirm –

— Ah suppose prison’s like the halls ay residence, apart fae one thing, Pudding Basin goes, — no much chance ay a ride thaire. At least, he laughs, — no the sort ay ride ye’d want, anywey!

— Just gie the clinic a quick phone, ah beg .

— If ah hear the word ‘clinic’ come out ay your mooth again, son …

They keep this shite gaun fir a bit, till a legal-aid lawyer, whae’s been appointed for us, thankfully comes in tae end the torment. The polis leave n the lawyer gadge gies us the news ah want tae hear. It’s a stark choice: basically either jail (at least remand until it goes tae court) or rehab, in a new project, which ah huv tae sign up tae for forty-five days, or ah’m charged wi the original offence. — It’s not the easy option. It means being drug-free, he explains, — even your methadone will be stopped .

— Fuck … ah gasp. — Ah’m no sure tae definitely get a prison sentence, am ah? No jist fir thievin a poxy collection tin?

— Nothing’s certain at all these days. It doesn’t look good though, does it? These were monies collected by an elderly shopkeeper for an animal-welfare charity .

— Ye pit it like that … Ah feel ma shoodirs hunch up in acknowledgement .

The boy takes his specs off. Rubs at the indentations they’ve left oan the side ay his beak. — On the one hand the government are encouraging the authorities to come down hard on drug use, on the other they’re acknowledging the growing problem of heroin addiction in the community. So there is the strong chance of a custodial sentence if you don’t cooperate with this rehab programme. Your parents are outside, and have been informed of the situation. What do you want to do ?

Decisions, decisions .

— Ah’ll sign up .

AH’M NO CHUFFED aboot the rehab situ but it looked like it wis either that or the jail, n ah wisnae up fir a gamble. Fuck knows what happened tae Matty, but Keezbo went for a similar deal. He moved intae the Monty Street pad wi us, markin time oan the methadone programme, but there was gear oan the streets and we still liked getting fucked up thegither. It wis a barry laugh when ah took him doon tae the clinic fir the first time n they gied him the blood test for the cowie, that Aids, eh. The lassie, askin questions aboot transmission, goes tae um, — Are you sexually active?

— Usually, aye, Keezbo goes, no gittin her at aw, — but sometimes ah jist like tae lie back, wi a bird oan toap, daein aw the work. Goat tae mix it up, but, eh?

— What I mean is, do you have a current sexual partner?

— How, Keezbo goes wi a big smile, — ye pittin yirsel in the frame then?

That wis the only fun part. Normally it wis loads ay questions. Ah hud a couple ay interviews wi this heid-fucking dwarf-like guy called Dr Forbes, and one fae this big-boned Englishwoman whae wis a clinical psychologist. Ah telt them what ah thoat they wanted tae hear, jist tae git thum oaf ma case. Keezbo said he wis the same.

Back in the gaff, we’d tried tae jam fir a bit, but his drums n ma amp, then the Fender went intae Boston’s second-hand shoap oan the Walk, in exchange fir gear. Kept the Shergold fretless, but.

Some cunts thought it was okay, but ah wisnae gittin intae the methadone, n ah wis feelin sick a lot. When ah wisnae too fucked tae go oot, the toon just seemed deid. Sick Boy had vanished, his ma said he’d went tae his auntie’s in Italy. Swanney had gone tae ground, n Spud wis meant tae huv been transferred fae the hoaspital intae rehab. Begbie wis in jail, Tommy n Second Prize wir in love, Lesley wis rumoured tae be up the stick, n Ali, whae’s seein this straightpeg aulder dude, never answered her phone.

But the biggest mystery wis Matty; nae cunt had heard anything aboot him. He’d taken the prison option and hud been oan remand, but the rumour wis thit he’d got oaf wi a suspended sentence, which wis fuckin lenient, cause they were meant tae have searched his hoose. If so, they’d have found aw the snidey goods. Ah wondered what he’d telt the polis, sweatin away under they lights, junk sick. As fir everybody else, aw the staples ay Leith — mates, burds, Hibs — jist seemed tae huv nae real appeal. Aw ah cared aboot wis skag.

Eftir we went for oor swallay doon the clinic at the auld Leith Hoaspital, they gied Keezbo a letter n he wis oaf the next day intae rehab. Ah must’ve looked left oot, cause the nurse, a barry lassie called Rachael, whae wis a mate ay Ali’s, informed us, — You’ll be next, Mark. Just try tae hang in there.

So ah mainly sat in the flat, readin, n thinkin aboot Matty. How he isnae a grass. You’re either made that wey or yir no. You’re either a scab or a grass or you urnae. N he isnae. So it wis a bit ay a surprise when he crept roond the flat one night, a somewhat chastened look oan the cunt’s normally sleekit pus. He asked us whaire Keezbo wis n ah telt him. — Fuck that, he goes, — ah’m no detoxin. Ah’m no daein cauld turkey.