Irvine Welsh - Skagboys

‘ Is that a barry book, Mark?’ Spud asks, looking like he’s formulating something in one of the more intriguing chambers of that labyrinth inside his skull .

‘ Aye .’

Then he’s off, and I’m back at the desk. What to write about? Our feelings, says Skinny-Specky. How do I feel? Well, I feel horny as fuck. I can tell that I’m detoxing, not just because I’m by turn depressed and miserable, then anxious and excitable, but because the only respite is my increasing carnal obsessions. I think about Lesley in the bed at Sully’s at New Year, wishing I’d licked her oot, had rode my cock between her heavy tits or even got a gam off of her. It now seems like an opportunity missed and I feel foolish and weak, eaten up with self-reproach — another chance blown. YOU CUNT YOU CUNT YOU CUNT YOU CUNT YOU CUNT .

Later in the afternoon I masturbated about Joanne Dunsmuir .

Other than Joyce and jerking I keep quiet, detoxing, doing my time .

Day 14

Reading all this back, I realise that by repeating the dialogues I’ve heard, it’s reading more like a novel or series of stories than a diary. And that suits me. I couldn’t ever be arsed writing a conventional diary .

Attended my first process review group. It was fucking mental! People got wired right into each other, no punches pulled; a stand-up shouting match between Johnny Swan and that Molly lassie, forcing intervention from Tom and Skinny-Specky. Too much for me in this state, and I opted to lunch in the privacy of my room, some bland steamed fish which I shouldn’t eat as I’m a veggie .

This evening I shakily joined them all in the recky room. The pool table has its yellow striped ball missing. I suspect Johnny Swan, who ran an appreciative hand over my fresh-cropped skull, had maliciously slung it ower the garden wall, as he’s the only one who doesn’t play. Sick Boy and Swanney were deep in conspiracy, talking aboot Alison. Sick Boy was going, ‘Lozinska the great feminist. How does sucking cock for heroin advance the cause ay women’s liberation? Please explain. It was all because I was fucking somebody else as well as her; aw the spiteful bitch wis daein was trying tae keep us away fae the tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Clamps ye like a vice .’

‘ Quality fanny,’ Johnny conceded .

Fuck knows who they were talking about, but she must be something special for them to agree. However, I noticed Spud listening in, then cringing and turning away, wilting like a hamster in a microwave .

I headed back to my room, planning to have another chug about Joanne Dunsmuir .

Joanne Dunsmuir.

What’s the fascination? She isn’t even particularly good-looking and certainly doesn’t have an agreeable personality, but I wank much more about her than I do about anybody else .

I’m scene-setting and fluffing up nicely. In my mind’s eye Joanne’s lying on her stomach and I’m pulling up her brown-and-black-checked skirt and hauling down her shiny black panties to expose a tight, curvy pair of buttocks .

That was as far as I got, as there was a knock and Spud burst in. He was in some distress, failing to notice that my hands were inside my tracky bottoms. He sat on the small basket chair fretting, sucking in his bottom lip. ‘People are sayin things … this place is a pure nightmare … ah feel shite, Mark, pure shite, n people are talkin rubbish .’

I told him not to worry, that it was only Sick Boy and Swanney trying to show off. That it was all bullshit .

‘ But how does he huv tae say they things aboot Alison? Alison’s a barry lassie! ’

‘ Because he’s a fucked-up arsehole, gadgie. We all are. But hopefully we’re getting better. Forget aw the sexist crap, it’s just them aw posturing tae each other. Aw these radges might talk like rapists among themselves, but they’ll aw grow intae hen-pecked husbands who’ll worry like fuck aboot their daughters. It’s just a pose .’

He looked at me in melancholy accusation, like a bairn who’s been told that Santa Claus doesnae exist. He kept glancing fae me tae the flair n back, as if building up to say something, then he let fly. ‘You n Matty … youyouse stole that Cat Protection League money! Off ofOffay Mrs Rylance! Out of the shopOotay the shoap! ’

FUCK THAT .

‘We certainly did. That’s how we got here, for some poxy cash. When you think of the bother we had opening it.‘We certainly did. That’s how I wound up here, for a few fuckin bob in a gantin plastic collection boax. The bother we had openin it … that’s what landed us in the fuckin cells! Some troll makin an example ay druggies! A poxy collection tin! ’

‘ Well, ye shouldnae huv done that, Mark,’ Spud bleated, ‘no tae auld Mrs Rylance, no tae the cats …’ Cause it’s no likesay stealin oot ay shoaps, it’s a charity tin likesay, an auld woman, whae’s daein her best fir abandoned animals. Animal charity, likesay .’

‘ Point taken, buddy, point taken,’ I waved a hand in emphasis. ‘When ah strike it rich, ah’ll write the CPL and Lothian Cat Rescue a big cheque .’

‘ A cheque …’ he parroted blankly, the notion seeming to calm him down, though our feline pals will be the last cunts to see any dosh I ever come intoTAE SEE ANY DOSH AH EVER COME INTAE. (That is more like how I sound in my headheid. Sometimes. Mair like. Sometimes. Why try tae sound different? Why the fuck be the same as every other cunt? Ah mean, whae’s fuckin interest does it serve?)

So ah tells Spud, ‘See, ma idea is tae get clean, then get the habit manageable. Never go ower, say, two or threeish grams a week. Make that a hard n fast rule. Stey at the point where ye git the buzz, but if thaire’s a drought, the withdrawal’s fuckin mild n ye can ride it oot oan painkillers n Vallies, till it’s biz as usual. It’s science, Danny. Or maths. Everything has an optimum point. Ah jist goat far too reckless and went past mine .’

‘ That new lassie that’s came in, that Audrey; she seems a nice lassie, ken? Pure sat next tae me at breakfast,’ he went in that shy primary school qwally way he sometimes goes when manto flutter oantae the scene. ‘She doesnae say much, ken, so ah just looks at her n goes, “Ye dinnae need tae say nowt, but if ye need tae talk, likesay in private, ah’m here, ken.” She jist nods .’

‘ That was very thoughtful, Spud. Fire in there, mate. Ah’d certainly ride her. In a fuckin minute .’

‘ Naw, it wisnae like that,’ he bashfully protested, ‘she’s a nice lassie, n ah wis jist tryin tae be helpful, ken? ’

‘ Still, you’ll be oot soon, Spud, free tae impress the fair maidens ay the Port wi yir near-death and rehab tales .’

‘ Naw, ah dinnae want tae go back tae Leith. Thaire’s nowt tae dae.’ He shook his head. ‘Ah’m pure no ready, man …’

Then he put his headheid in his hands and I felt masel turn tae stone as he started to crystarted tae greet. Proper greeting, high, snivelling, wee bairnish whines. ‘Ah’ve messed things up that much … wi muh ma …’

I put ma airm roond him; it felt like hugging a workie’s pneumatic drill. ‘Whoah, c’moan, Danny, take it easy, mate …’

He stared up at us, face red, beak all snottery. ‘… if ah could jist git a joab, Mark … n a girlfriend … somebody tae care aboot …’

Then Sick Boy pushed the door open. He rolled his eyes camply, as Spud rubbed at his own red, bloodshot lamps. ‘Am I interrupting anything? ’

Spud sprang to his feet. ‘You kin stoap slaggin oaf Alison! You keep yir mooth shut aboot her, right! How you’re like wi lassies … IT’S WRONG, KEN! IT’S JIST PURE WRONG! ’