Trainspotting Read Online Free PDF Page B

certainly got the weather fir it. Ah sat oan the wall by the bus stop, letting the sun soak intae rna wet jeans. Ah saw a 32 coming, but didnae move, through apathy. The next one that came, ah got it thegither tae board the fucker and headed back tae Sunny Leith. It really is time tae clean up, ah thought, as ah mounted the stairs ay ma new flat.

    IN OVERDRIVE

    I do wish that ma semen–rectumed chum, the Rent Boy, would stop slavering in ma fucking car. There's a set of VPLs (visible panty lines) on the chicky in front ay us, and all my concentration is required to ensure a thorough examination can be undertaken. Yes! That will do me fine! I am in overdrive, over–fuckin–drive. It's one ay these days when ma hormones are shooting aroond ma body like a steelie in a pinball machine, and all these mental lights and sounds are flashing in ma heid.
    And what is Rents proposing, on this beautiful afternoon of vintage cruisin weather? The cunt has the fuckin audacity tae suggest that we go back to his gaff, which reeks of alcohol, stale spunk and garbage which should have been pit oot weeks ago, tae watch videos. Draw the curtains, block out the sunlight, block out your own fucking brainwaves, and deck him sniggering like a moron wi a joint in his hand at everything that comes on the pox–box. Well, non, non, non, Monsieur Renton, Simone is not cut out to sit in darkened rooms with Leith plebs and junkies rabbiting shite aw affie. Cause ah was made for lovin you bay–bee, you wir made for lovin me . . . a fat hound has waddled out in front ay the lemon wi the VPLS, blocking my view of that subliminal rear with her obese arse. She has the fuckin cheek tae wear tight leggings – totally and completely oblivious to the delicate nature of Simone's stomach!!

    13

    There's a slim chicky! ah sarcastically observe.
    Fuck off ya sexist cunt, the Rent Boy sais.
    Ah'm tempted tae ignore the bastard. Mates are a waste of fucking time. They are always ready to drag you down tae their level of social, sexual and intellectual mediocrity. I'd better dismiss the radge though, in case he thinks he's got one up on us.
    The fact that you use the term 'cunt' in the same breath as ,sexist', shows that ye display the same muddled, fucked–up thinking oan this issue as you do oan everything else. That scoobies the cunt. Eh sais something biscuit–ersed in reply, in a pathetic attempt tae salvage the situation. Rent Boy 0, Simone 1. We both know it. Renton, Renton, what's the score . . . The Bridges is hotchin wi minge. Ooh, ooh la la, let's go dancin, ooh, ooh la la, Simon dancin . . . There is fanny of every race, colour, creed and nationality present. Oh ya cunt, ye! It's time tae move. Two oriental types consulting a map. Simone express, that'll do nicely. Fuck Rents, he's a doss bastard, totally US.
    – Can I help you? Where are you headed? ah ask. Good oldfashioned Scoattish hoshpitality, aye, ye cannae beat it, shays the young Sean Connery, the new Bond, cause girls, this is the new bondage . . .
    – We're looking for the Royal Mile, a posh, English–colonial voice answers back in ma face. What a fucking wee pump–up–the–knickers n aw. Simple Simon sais, put your hands on your feet . . .
    Of course, the Rent Boy is looking like a flaccid prick in a barrel–load ay fannies. Sometimes ah really think the gadge still believes that an erection is for pishing over high walls. Follow us. Are you going to a show? Yes, you can’t beat the Festival for bringing out the mantovani.
    – Yes. One of the (china) dolls hands us a piece ay paper wi Brecht: The Caucasian Chalk Circle by Nottingham University Theatre Group on it. Doubtless a collection of zit–encrusted, squeakyvoiced wankers playing oot a miserable pretension tae the arts before graduating to work in the power stations which give the local children leukemia or investment consultancies which shut doon factories, throwing people into poverty and despair. Still, let's git the