Renton: Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?
Sick Boy: Do you shee the beasht? Have you got it in your shights?
Renton: Clear enough, Mish Moneypenny.
Diane: You can’t sit around all day with your heroin and listening to Ziggy Pop.
Renton: It’s Iggy Pop.
Diane: Whatever, the guy’s dead anyway.
Renton: Iggy Pop is not dead. He toured last year. Tommy went to see him.
Renton: I haven’t felt this good since Archie Gimmel scored against Holland in 1978!
Renton: I dream of massive, pristine convenience. Brilliant gold taps, virginal white marble, a seat carved from ebony, a cistern full of Chanel No. 5, and a flunky handing me pieces of raw silk toilet roll. But under the circumstances I’ll settle for anywhere.
Mikey: Feel better now?
Renton: For all the good they’ve done me, I might as well have stuck them up my arse!
Court Judge: Mr. Renton, I understand that you have entered into a programme of rehabilitation in an attempt to wean yourself away from heroin. The suspension of your sentence is conditional upon your continued cooperation with this programme. Should you stand before me again, I shall not hesitate to impose a custodial sentence.
Renton: Thank you, your honour. With God’s help I’ll conquer this terrible affliction.
Renton: I don’t feel the sickness yet, but it’s in the mail, that’s for sure. I’m in the junky limbo at the moment. Too ill to sleep, too tired to stay awake, but the sickness is on its way.
Tommy’s Girl & Spud’s Girl: What are you talkin’ about?
Tommy & Spud: Football. What are you talkin’ about?
Sick Boy: Good chips.
Renton: I cannae believe you did that!
Sick Boy: I got a great price for it!
Renton: It was my telly!
Sick Boy: Well if I’d a’ known you were gonna’ feel that way about it, I wouldnae bothered!…. You gonna’ eat that?
Renton: Relinquishing junk. Stage one, preparation. For this you will need one room which you will not leave. Soothing music. Tomato soup, ten tins of. Mushroom soup, eight tins of, for consumption cold. Ice cream, vanilla, one large tub of. Magnesia, milk of, one bottle. Paracetomal, mouthwash, vitamins. Mineral water, Lucozade, pornography. One mattress. One bucket for urine, one for feces and one for vomitus. One television and one bottle of Valium. Which I’ve already procured from my mother. Who is, in her own domestic and socially acceptable way also a drug addict. And now I’m ready. All I need is one final hit to soothe the pain while the Valium takes effect.
Diane: Do you find that this approach usually works? Or let me guess, you’ve never tried it before. In fact, you don’t normally approach girls — am I right? The truth is that you’re a quiet sensitive type but, if I’m prepared to take a chance, I might just get to know the inner you. Taxi! A little bit crazy, a little bit bad. But hey — don’t us girls just love that?
Diane:Well, what’s wrong boy — cat got your tongue?