T2 Trainspotting

2017 film directed by Danny Boyle

T2 Trainspotting is a 2017 British comedy drama film, set in and around Edinburgh, Scotland, in which after 20 years abroad, Mark Renton, the de facto main character and heroin addict returns to Scotland and reunites with his frenemy drug addicts; Sick Boy, Spud, and with sociopathic bully Begbie. It is a sequel to 1996 film Trainspotting.

Directed by Danny Boyle. Written by John Hodge, based on characters created by Irvine Welsh in his novel Trainspotting and its follow-up Porno.
A film by Danny Boyle(taglines)

Mark Renton


[Monologue that is a reference to the beginning of the first film, to Veronika in a restaurant] "Choose life." "Choose life" was a well-meaning slogan from a 1980s antidrug campaign. And we used to add things to it. So I might say, for example, choose... Designer lingerie in the vain hope of kicking some life back into a dead relationship. Choose handbags. Choose high-heeled shoes. Cashmere and silk to make yourself feel what passes for happy. Choose an iPhone made in China by a woman who jumped out of a window, and stick it in the pocket of your jacket fresh from a South Asian firetrap. Choose Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram and a thousand other ways to spew your bile across people you've never met. Choose updating your profile. Tell the world what you had for breakfast and hope that someone, somewhere cares. Choose looking up old flames, desperate to believe that you don't look as bad as they do. Choose live-blogging from your first wank to your last breath. Human interaction reduced to nothing more than data. Choose ten things you never knew about celebrities who'd had surgery. Choose screaming about abortion. Choose rape jokes, slut shaming, revenge porn, and an endless tide of depressing misogyny. Choose 9/11 never happened, and if it did, it was the Jews. Choose a zero-hour contract and a two-hour journey to work, and choose the same for your kids, only worse. And maybe tell yourself it's better that they never happened. And then sit back and smother the pain with an unknown dose of an unknown drug made in somebody's fucking kitchen. Choose unfulfilled promise and wishing you'd done it all differently. Choose never learning from your own mistakes. Choose watching history repeat itself. Choose the slow reconciliation towards what you can get rather than what you always hoped for. Settle for less and keep a brave face on it. Choose disappointment. And choose losing the ones you loved. And as they fall from view, a piece of you dies with them. Until you can see that one day in the future, piece by piece, they will all be gone. And there'll be nothing left of you to call alive or dead. Choose your future, Veronika. Choose life. Anyway, it amused us at the time.

Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson

  • [Veronika counting the money] And what does he think I am? A whore? He can just pay me off 4000 pounds, not even the interest? What am I supposed to do with that? Buy a fucking time machine? Live my life all over again? Maybe this time without being robbed by my best fucking friend!

Daniel "Spud" Murphy

  • [Renton has just saved Spud from asphyxiating] You ruined my life, and now you're ruining my fucking death too!

Francis Begbie

  • What do they think I am eh? Do they think I am like one of these cunts in the bible that live forever?


  • These are not goals. These are political statements. It's still there. I've been there myself several times. You know nothing. You understand nothing. You live in the past. Where I come from the past is something to forget but here it's all you talk about. You are clearly so in love with each other that I feel awkward in your company. Instead of looking at me you should get naked and fuck each other.


Tulloch: What is this?
Sick Boy: This is for you.
Tulloch: What?
Sick Boy: It's a recording. Keep sake, so the memory need never fade.
Tulloch: Who are you?
Sick Boy: I'm your blackmailer and your salvation. You cooperate with me, no one will ever see this video. Now my research suggests that he's the deputy head master of one of Edinburgh leading private schools. you earn near enough 70,000 pounds per annum. It's not in my interest to squeeze you too hard, but it is not in your interest to provoke me. So let's meet in the middle. 10% of your salary per annum paid monthly on a rolling indefinite basis.
Tulloch: You disgusting shite! I will not stand for this!
Sick Boy: Naturally, you'll have to lie to your wife. If you need inspiration, just imagine her reaction to that [Shows the pen drive]. Or how will this make interest of pupils at your elite private school. They might enjoy the interlude with the strap-on. I know I did.
Sick Boy: I am gonna text you the details of the bank account. I expect to see a 1000 pounds payment in there by the end of the week.

Mr. Wilson: Give us your hands Frank, I am off for a dump.
Begbie: Oh come on, give us a break.
Mr. Wilson: That's the regulations Frank.
Begbie: Where the fuck am I going to go. All these chips stuck to me. Give a man a bit of dignity for one sec.
Mr. Wilson: All right. All right, Frank.
Begbie: You're a good man Mr. Wilson. I respect you for that.
[Mr. Wilson leaves the room]
Begbie: You fucking prick!

Simon: Hello Mark.
Mark: Simon.
Simon: So what you've been up to... for 20 years?
Mark: I've been in Amsterdam.
Simon: Nice.
Mark: Alright.
Simon: So what else? Married?
Mark: Aye.
Simon: Nice.
Mark: Dutch woman.
Simon: Kids?
Mark: Two.
Simon: Boys or girls?
Mark: One of each.
Simon: Wee mark 'ey? Raise a chip off the old block.
Mark: James actually, and Lora. How about you?
Simon: I have a son. He is in London with his fucking whore mother.
Mark: See him?
Simon: Pretty regular, currently once every ten years!
Mark: Alright.
Sick Boy: Job?
Mark: Aye. I did an accounting course. I work for a small business. Stock management software for the retail sector.
Simon: Very nice. Well, as you can see I run my old aunty's pub. Very few customers, then they don't spend much. Sometimes I... I wonder if it's worth opening. The great wave of gentrification is yet to engulf us. There we go, eh? My lotted life!
Mark: I see.
Simon: [While beating mark] six...teen...thousand...pounds! You thieving fucking bastard!
Mark: You missed the trick, that's what hurts isn't it? I had the brains and fucking balls to steal the money, and you didn't!

Spud: I can feel again Mark, you know. I need to detox the system.
Renton: Oh Spud, detox the system... What does it even mean? It doesn't mean anything. It's not getting it out of your body, that is the problem, it is getting it out of your mind! You are an addict!
Spud: You think I haven't heard that a 100,000 times Mark? You go 12 steps ahead of me comrade.
Renton: So be addicted. Be addicted to something else.
Spud: Like running until I feel sick?
Renton: Yes! Or something else. You've got to channel it! You've got to control it! People try all sorts. Some people do boxing.
Spud: Boxing?
Renton: Well, it's just an example. I don't... I don't mean you should...
Spud: So what did you channel it into?
Renton: Getting away.

[Mark and Simons are about to leave the community center of the convention of Protestants celebrating the Battle of Cromdale when the security guard thwarts them]
Security guard: You not gonna give us a song?
Renton: I can sing. I'll just... I'll just fucking make something up. You can play the piano.
Simon: I can't play the fucking piano.
Renton: You know those two chords. The fucking F and G march you used to play at school. Do that. [Renton takes the stage and Simon takes the piano] Good evening. My mate and I would like to sing a song that we wrote.
[Simon plays a piano chord and he disapproves]
Renton: No. Is... Is that it? It was the year of 1690, on the 11th of July, or the first in Julian calendar. Wait, wait, wait. Give me something with a little bit of rhythm. Here we go. It was on the field of battle, of hope we were bereft, but by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left.
[Audience suddenly lights up and start waving their hands in approval]
Renton: We looked up to King William, on his chin a royal cleft, and by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left. Aye! Fucking right. His strategy was strong, his strategy was deft, by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left, the battle now victorious. We foiled his papist theft, when the time was over, there were no more Catholics left, aye!

[Mark and Simon are withdrawing cash from cashpoints]
Mark: And it's midnight. Start again.
[Mark, Simon and Veronika are driving on the M8 to Edinburgh in a BMW]
Renton: So, there's this room service guy, right? And he comes into the room, and there is Georgie Best lying on the bed with two Playboy models. Three in a bed, champagne and a little bit of Charlie, and there's banknotes. But they're lying on the banknotes.
Veronika: Lying on the money?
Mark: Yes.
Veronika: Why?
Mark: I don't know. Because he has a lot of money. Or at least he had a lot of money at the time, anyway. The room service guy, he comes in, and he sees this scene that I just described to you, and he says, "George Best..."
Simon: Greatest footballer of all time.
Mark: Exactly. "The greatest footballer of all time, I have to ask you, "'Where did it all go wrong?'" Where did it all go wrong? Where did it all go wrong? Where did it all go wrong, George Best?
Veronika: Yeah, but... I think that the room service guy, you know... I think he makes a very good point. No?
[Mark, Simon and Veronika are lounging in Mark's apartment]
Mark: He played for Hibs in 1979 between stints for the Fort Lauderdale Strikers and the San Jose Earthquakes. I went to see him play, apparently. My dad took me. He said, "You've got to see this. You've got to see this player. "Got to see this greatest footballer of all time." So it was a big game, it was a big crowd, and a big guy in front of me. I couldn't see a thing. Not a single thing. Not for 90 minutes. But I've got the program, so... I mean, I've always got that, you know?
[Mark points to archival footage of football fans on a flatscreen TV]
Mark: Thin. Thin. Nobody was fat back then.
Simon: It's not just the football, is it?
[Both talking over each other to Veronika]
Mark: It's the end of austerity. There was no such thing even as a calorie till 1974.
Simon: Welcome to the new age of civil rights, space exploration.
Mark: You know what happened in 1974? The first McDonald's in the UK.
Simon: He's basically John Barry with football boots.
Mark: See, look at that guy. He would be scrawny today.
Simon: A great, swaggering, filthy piece of music.
Mark: But then... That was totally normal till 1974. It's insurrection!
Simon: That's the beauty of what he does.
Mark: You know what happened in 1974? First McDonald's. South London. Woolwich.
[Veronika then gives a lecture in Bulgarian]
Simon: Cheers. Up your ass.
Mark: Placebo.
Simon: There's a fucking...
Mark: Do it. Let's do it. Fuck off.
Simon: Yeah!
Mark: Yeah!

Frank: Junior. You coming, for fuck's sake?
June: Frank.
Frank: What? What is it now?
June: The boy.
Frank: What about him?
June: See, Frank, please don't be angry. It's just, he's not really...
Frank: "Not really," what?
Frank Jr.: Sorry, Dad.
Frank: The fuck is that? You cannot go with me dressed like that.
Frank Jr.: See, I don't really think, you know, I'm into it.
June: He doesn't want to go, Frank.
Frank: Doesn't want to go? Where else you gonna go?
Frank Jr.: I was actually gonna go and meet some friends from the college. From the college, is it?
Frank: Right. Well, that's a blow and no mistake, no two ways about that.
Frank Jr.: Sorry, Dad.
Frank: Some way to treat your old man.
June: Please, Frank.
Frank: You shut the fuck up! Hotel fucking management.
Frank: You put him up to this.
Frank Jr.: Dad, it's not like that.
Frank: Shut the fuck up! "Dad." Maybe I'm not your dad. I see it now.
June: No, Frank.
Frank Jr.: Dad, leave it.
Frank: "Leave it"? I don't want to fucking leave it! What if I don't want to fucking leave it? What you gonna do about that, eh? Tell you what...
[Walks up to Frank Jr.'s face as close as possible menacing him with Jr.'s stonefaced] Free pop.
June: No, Frank!
Frank: Shut it. Come on. Stick one on then, you cunt. Take a fucking swipe at me. Do it. Do it! No, you cannot fucking do that. See, if you were my son, you'd have stabbed us there. I'd be lying, breathing my last through a hole in my chest. But you cannot fucking do that.

Lawyer: So, are you the woman in the video?
Veronika: My face is not seen.
Lawyer: Do you have any identifying marks? Tattoos on your buttocks?
Veronika: Certainly not.
Lawyer: On your perineum? [Veronika looks confused and Mark leans over to whisper]
Mark: It's the bit of skin between your vagina and your bumhole.
Viktoria: That's disgusting.
Lawyer: So you're not vajazzled. May I ask, what is your relationship with the accused?
Veronika: We are friends.
[Mark and Veronika are leaving for the door]
Lawyer: Mark. [Mark walks back over]
Lawyer: She's too young for you. [Mark walks away unimpressed]
Mark: Here it is. [Reading off laptop] "EU Small Business Development Loans. Zero-interest loans distributed regionally towards projects that stimulate regeneration of formerly industrial areas. Loans are available of up to 100,000. Applications should be made online, which may be followed by an invitation to present a business plan."
Simon: Blah, blah, fucking blah.
Mark: I'm trying to help you, Simon. We're blowing all that cashpoint money on lawyer's fees.
Simon: You could've got someone cheaper.
Mark: Well, I wouldn't have had to get anyone at all if you hadn't engaged in fucking blackmail. Is there anything left of your 4,000 I gave you?
Simon: No, I've got expenses, just like everyone else.
Mark: What, all of it? You snorted the whole fucking wad?
Simon: It's called debt, Mark.
Mark: The point is, we need cash now, not in six months' time.
Simon: And you realize what's at stake here? I promised to set up a sauna for Veronika. And if I don't get it up and running soon, she's gonna leave me.
Mark: Fucking leave you anyway.
Simon: No, it's not gonna happen.
Mark: Is she actually even with you?
Simon: She's my girlfriend.
Mark: You've never ever been a normal junkie.
Simon: I have fucked her, and I'll fuck her again.
Mark: What? When she was working at the sauna?
Simon: That's not fair. You know, since we're having this conversation, I can tell you that fully consensual, emotionally driven, not-for-profit sexual intercourse has been attained.
Mark: Simon, you're a romantic.
Simon: Veronika and I have had our rough patches. I'll be the first to admit that.
Mark: Shall we submit this application?
Simon: Do what you want, but I need someone on-site working. I need progress. Now.

Simon: Hello, Franco.
Franco: Simon.
Simon: But you're not...
Franco: I'm out.
Simon: "Out"?
Franco: Aye. Fucking shut up.
Simon: Yeah, sorry if I seemed a little shocked to see you, Frank. It's just... Well, I was gonna... I was gonna deal with this myself and then give you the good news, but... You're not gonna believe this. So, two days ago, I got a call from an old friend of mine. Gav Temperly. You remember him?
Franco: Aye.
Simon: Anyway. He's on business in Amsterdam. And he's in a café one morning, and he hears this voice beside him. A whiny, cunty voice.
Franco: No.
Simon: So he turns around, right? This is two fucking days ago. I'm just getting over it myself. There he is.
Franco: Holy fucking moly.
Simon: Hasn't changed in 20 years. Very same smug, little cunty grin across his ugly face.
Franco: For fuck's sake!
Simon: Aye, Renton. Mark fucking Renton. Living in Amsterdam all this time on our money.
Franco: Cunt. Did Renton clock him?
Simon: No. So Gav followed him. He went into an office block not far from the center of town. And Gav had to split then, but he's gonna go back. He's gonna hang out, he's gonna follow Renton home, and then...
Franco: And we're gonna pay him a visit.
Simon: Exactly.
Franco: I need a passport.
Simon: I can get you one. I'll take some weapons. Well, we can probably get weapons there, Franco.
Franco: Aye. Probably. They've got that kind of stuff in Amsterdam, eh?
Simon: Aye. Now, the important thing is for you to keep your head down. Low profile till the passport comes through, till I get the tickets. 'Cause this is an opportunity, Frank.
Franco: Right.
Simon: I'm gonna fucking tear him to pieces.
Franco: You most definitely fucking will.
Simon: Simon and I do not sleep together.
Franco: No? I had wondered.
Simon: Once, but...

Veronika: Simon and I do not sleep together.
Mark: No? I had wondered.
Veronika: Once, but... I'm his girlfriend, but it's business, really. Simon is not a good person. But I like him. More than he likes himself, I think.
Mark: Right, but if you're not... If there's no physical aspect to your relationship, I mean, you don't want to be, like... You know, wasting your time.
Veronika: What's "choose life"?
Mark: What?
Veronika: "Choose life." Simon says it sometimes. He says, "Choose life, Veronika."
[Mark does his "Choose Life" monologue updated for the 21st century]
Veronika: I like you, Mark.

[Mark is doing loan application presentation to European Union Montary Fund]
Mark: This is the renovation and conversion of an iconic Leith building. We see it very much as being an artisanal bed-and-breakfast experience. A destination in its own right. Artworks by local artists on the walls. Locally sourced fresh food. Outreach programs to inspire children in school to think outside the box. To inspire in them a belief that... Yes, they can. There was a time when this port served thousands of ships around the globe. Now it can rise again. And we believe our business will occupy a central role, both physically and emotionally, at the heart of this new wave of regeneration in Leith.
Simon: Leith 2.1.
Mark: Exactly.
Murphy: We used to steal all this stuff. Fancy wallpaper. Sell on to the middle classes and that. Me and Mark used to steal all kinds of stuff, actually. Till we got caught. He got off. I got six months. Still, you find out what you're good at inside. Signatures... That's what I found out. Anyone's. If I seen it once, I can do it. So, when I got out, "Bye-bye, shoplifting. Hello, checkbook. Hello, check card. Up to Western Union. Signature, cash in hand. Up to Swanney's, pay off my debts, buy some skag. I was a portable fucking goldmine.
Veronika: So, what happened?
Murphy: Chip and PIN, debit cards, e-banking. Billionaires moving money at the touch of a button. There's no room for an honest artisan like me anymore.
Veronika: So, what did you do?
Murphy: Back on the pavement. Seven days a week.
Veronika: I like your stories. I think you should write them down.
Murphy: You think?
Veronika: Yeah. Just write them the way you say them. They're funny. I would like to read them. Mark and Simon can help.
[Murphy, Simon and Mark arrive by train to the same desolate stop as in the original film]
Murphy: [Voiceover reading from page] "Tommy looks well. It's terrifying. He's gonna die. Sometime between the next few weeks and the next 15 years, Tommy will be no more. Chances are that I'll be exactly the same. Difference is we know this with Tommy. Tommy cannot get out.
Mark: [Reading aloud] He cannot afford to heat his home, put himself in a bubble, live in the warm, eat good fresh food, keep his mind stimulate with new challenges. He will only live five or 10 or 15 years before he is crushed. Tommy will not survive winter in West Granton."
Simon: Well, I'm trying hard, Mark, but I'm not feeling anything. We were young. Bad things happened. It's over. Can we go home now?
Mark: Two hours to the next train.
Simon: Oh, for fuck's sake.
Mark: Look, we're here as an act of memorial.
Simon: Nostalgia. That's why you're here. You're a tourist in your own youth. Just 'cause you had a near-death experience, and now you're feeling all fuzzy and warm. What other moments will you be revisiting? Here's a good one. How about the time you sold Tommy his very first hit, leading him on to heroin addiction, HIV infection, and ultimately his death at the age of... What was it, 22, 23?
Mark: Twenty-three.
Simon: Twenty-three. How innocent was that?
Mark: Aye, that's mine. How's yours?
Simon: Don't know what you're talking about.
Mark: She'd be a woman by now. Maybe kids of her own. But she never got that far, did she? Never got to lead her life. Because her father, someone who should have been looking after her, protecting his own infant, was too busy filling his own veins with heroin to check that she was breathing properly. How do you keep a lid on that one?
[They take the train back and proceed to inject heroin with Murphy looking on tormented]
Mark: Well, that's that, then. Here we go.
[Simon and Mark have gone to a club and Mark goes to the washroom and is disgusted at the filthiness of a toilet, a previous film reference]
Mark: Fuck's sake.
[Franco settles himself into a booth]
Franco: All right, doll.
Girl: Thanks.
Franco: Looking good, baby.
Girl: Not bad yourself, daddy-o.
Franco: Why, bring it over here.
Girl: Really?
Girl: I'm not wearing any knickers.
Franco: For fuck's sake. Well, tell you what... Just away for a piss. Back in a moment. We'll see what's happening, okay?
Girl: All right, then.
Franco: Aye.

[Mark walks up to Simon sitting on a stone wall at a coastal town]
Mark: I didn't know.
Simon: Okay, okay. I might've heard something. I'm sorry I didn't mention it.
Mark: You might've heard something?
Simon: All right, fuck it. I knew. I knew, and I could have served you up to him on a plate any time I wanted to.
Mark: I bet you were fucking looking forward to it, too, weren't you?
Simon: Yeah, yeah, I was. I was looking forward to it.
Mark: I ought to fucking kill you.
[Van pulls up]
Mark: Fuck is this?
[Door opens and a slavic-looking young mafia-esque man gets out and says; "Get in".]
Doyle: It's Mark and Simon, right? Do you know who I am? Good. So you know that I own a couple of saunas in the north of Edinburgh. In fact, you boys should know, I own all the saunas in Edinburgh. So your venture was never gonna happen, was it? I couldn't have you on my doorstep in competition for my members of staff, for my clientele. It was never gonna happen, Simon, was it?
Simons: No, Mr. Doyle.
Doyle: Right answer. I wouldn't let it happen. And it's not gonna happen, right? Thankfully for you two, I've done some due diligence on you, and what I hear [Scene of Doyle is showing their picture on his phone to sauna girls who nod in recognition] is you're a couple of losers. Two absolute losers. How's that sound, Simon?
Simon: Yeah, yeah, that's probably right enough.
Doyle: Aye. "Probably right enough." Right answer. Take your clothes off. All of them. Fuck's sake.
[Mark and Simon are walking through dairy pastures completely nude]
Mark: "Probably right enough, Mr. Doyle."
Simon: If you groveled a bit more, we might not be going home in the buff.
Mark: At least I have my dignity.
Simon: Is that what you're calling it?
Mark: Are you ready?
Simon: No.
Mark: Come on.

Franco: All right, Murphy?
Murphy: Franco.
Franco: Sit down, sit down. Now... So where is he? Don't say, "Who? Don't say, "I don't know." Just fucking tell me where he is. Still a junkie, Murphy?
Murphy: No. I'm clean now, Frank.
Franco: You? Clean? Fucking joke. [Observing yellow pages taped to the wall] What is all this shit anyway?!
Murphy: It's just, like, stories and that.
Franco: "Stories"? What are you writing stories for? Who's gonna read shit written by a cunt like you?
Murphy: Just thought maybe my grandchildren, or...
Franco: You got grandchildren?
Murphy: No.
Franco: What you writing fucking stories for them for?! They may not even like stories! You thought of that?!
Murphy: No. That's a good point, Franco.
[Starts reading out a page]
Franco: "The sweat was lashing off Sick Boy." Sick... Sick Boy? What, is it about him?!
Murphy: It's about all of us, like.
Franco: All of you?! About me?!
Murphy: No, not about you.
Franco: Fucking better not be. "Strolling Through the Meadows." Here, [Hands page to Murphy] read it.
Murphy: What?!
Franco: Read it!
Murphy: Strolling Through the Meadows. The pubs, like, dead busy. It's full o' loco-locals and festival types. 'Cause the festival was going on, see, in the story. They're all having a little snort before heading off to the next show. Beg... Beg... I was definitely gonna cut this bit out, Frank.
Franco: Well, fucking read it.
Murphy: Begbie's pissed his jeans.
Franco: I remember that night. Read on.
Murphy: What?
Franco: Read on. Read on.
Murphy: The boy, likes, just wouldn't hand over the wallet, even when Begbie pulled the knife, like. The last words I heard the dude say was, You won't use that. Begbie went fucking crazy, got, like, that carried away with the bladework, you know. We nearly forgot the wallet, likes. Blood was flowing into the latrine, mixing with the piss.
Franco: Blood. Mixing with the piss. It was an ugly sight, man. Murphy. You've got hidden talents, man.
Murphy: Then it happens. All I did was put a pint of Export in front of Begbie. He takes one fucking gulp out o' it. Then he throws the empty glass from his last pint straight over the balcony in a casual backhand motion. The glass crashes down on this girl's head, which splits open as she falls to her knees. Begbie's on his feet and we're racing down the stairs, and he shouts... [Franco rises up and passionately re-enacts the scene speaking in unison with Murphy] That lady got glassed! And no cunt leaves here till I find out what cunt did it."
Franco: That is lovely. What else have you got? What's this? What's this? London, London. Renton had never seen so much money. He stole the money. Took it from his friends."
Murphy: What? No, that is just a story, that one. That is just a little story. Renton felt no sympathy for Begbie. No. Renton's real guilt was for Spud. He loved Spud. Spud had never hurt anybody. If there was one person whom Renton would try to compensate, it was Spud."
Franco: "Compensate"? I'm only gonna fucking ask you this once. How much money did he leave you?
Murphy: £4,000. Left it in a locker.
Franco: Well, you didn't fucking tell us that at the time.
Murphy: I'm sorry, Franco.
Franco: Don't fucking move.
Murphy: I did steal the money, but they shouldn't have been surprised. I mean, we stole from all sorts of people. Shops, businesses, neighbors, family. Friends was just one more class of victim. In the morning, when you were gone with my money, I was furious, but also I thought,
Franco: "'Course he's taken it. "Why wouldn't he?"
Viktoria: Daniel?
Murphy: It's me. I'm not here.
Viktoria: What do you mean, you're not here?
Murphy: Go! Veronika, you cannot be here. Please. It's not safe for you, kitten-cat. You got to vamoose.
Viktoria: What happened?
Murphy: Tell Mark. Tell Simon. They need to run quick. The Beggar is on the loose. Please, Veronika, he'll be back at any minute.
Viktoria: Who will be back? [Franco appears in doorway]
Franco: Well, well, well. Rescue. This your bird, Murphy?
Murphy: Please, Franco, leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this. [Franco forces Veronika up against a wall with his face menacing hers]
Franco: 'Course she hasn't. What would she be doing with an ugly cunt like you? What's your name, doll?
Viktoria: Veronika.
Franco: Veronika. Well, that's lovely. And how do you know Mr. Murphy here?
Viktoria: Simon.
Franco: Simon? Good old Simon. And what about Simon's very best friend? You know him and all? You got a phone?
Viktoria: A phone?
Franco: Aye. A mobile phone. You know the kind of thing.
Viktoria: Yes.
Franco: Give it.
Viktoria: But you have to let us go. Both of us.
Murphy: Another?
Viktoria: No, I'm fine.
Murphy: Where are you going? You shouldn't be out in this neck of the woods, kitten-cat.
Viktoria: I have a plan for us.
Murphy: What?
[Franco continues reading]
Franco: We went for a piss in the old Leith Central Station. Me, Renton and Begbie. Place was empty, soon to be demolished. Some size o' station this was. Used to be steam engines to all over from here. Choo-fucking-choo! An old drunkard, whom Begbie had been looking at, lurched up to us, wine bottle in his hand. What're you up to, lads, eh? Trainspotting? In Leith Central? He says, laughing. I noticed Begbie seemed strangely subdued and uncomfortable. They fucking turn it on for you. Fucking shit-bag! It was only then I realized the old wino was Begbie's father. First, there is an opportunity. And then, there's a betrayal. And that's how it ends.


  • Ewan McGregor - Mark "Rent Boy" Renton
    • Hamish Haggerty - young Renton
    • Ben Skelton - 9-year-old Renton
    • Connor McIndoe - 20-year-old Renton
  • Ewen Bremner - Daniel "Spud" Murphy
    • Aiden Haggarty - 9-year-old Spud
    • John Bell - 20-year-old Spud
  • Jonny Lee Miller - Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson
    • Logan Gillies - 9-year-old Simon
    • James McElvar - 20-year-old Simon
  • Robert Carlyle - Francis "Franco" Begbie
    • Daniel Jackson - young Begbie
    • Daniel Smith - 9-year-old Begbie
    • Christopher Mullen - 20-year-old Begbie
  • Kevin McKidd - Tommy MacKenzie
    • Elijah Wolf - 9-year-old Tommy
    • Michael Shaw - 20-year-old Tommy
  • Kyle Fitzpatrick - Fergus
    • Charlie Hardie - 9-year-old Fergus
  • Elek Kish - Dozo
  • Bradley Welsh - Mr. Doyle
  • Kelly Macdonald - Diane Coulston
  • Anjela Nedyalkova - Veronika Kovach
  • Pauline Lynch - Lizzy
  • James Cosmo - Mr Renton
  • Eileen Nicholas - Mrs. Renton
  • Shirley Henderson - Gail Houston
  • Irvine Welsh - Mikey Forrester
  • Simon Weir - Jailhoose
  • Steven Robertson - Stoddart
  • Scot Greenan - Frank Jr.
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