Skagboys

by Irvine Welsh

As you may well be aware, the central government policy of promoting the sale of council housing has led to a decline in Edinburgh District Council’s levels of housing stock, most markedly in the higher amenity properties. This obviously has an adverse impact upon our ability to discharge our housing obligations to all our citizens in need.

  In response to this and in keeping with our commitment to equal opportunities and fostering a multicultural Edinburgh, the council has developed an innovative progamme known as the Neighbourhood United Tenancy Scheme (N.U.T.S.). This scheme seeks to integrate homeless families into current housing provision (with special points for ethnic minority families) and follows a needs-based and city-wide inventory of our existing housing stock.

  It has come to our attention that your daughter has recently married and moved out of your three-bedroom apartment tenancy at the above address.

  Please note that as of Monday, 15 April 1985, this room will now be allocated to Mr and Mrs Ranjeet Patel.

  The kitchen and living-room facilities will initially continue to be solely for your personal use as cooking and refrigeration equipment is to be installed in the room allocated to the new family. Please note, however, that this is subject to review. You will, of course, be expected to share toileting facilities with Mr and Mrs Patel, their children and elderly parents.

  In order to facilitate a smooth and effective transition to N.U.T.S., the council are, in partnership with the Lothian Education Department, running classes at a centre near you, on basic Bengali language and culture, which, under the conditions of your tenancy agreement, you are expected to attend. This comes under the banner of Cultural Unification for New Tenants Scheme. You will be notified of the dates and venue of these classes shortly.

  You have three working days to appeal against this ruling. To do so, please contact Mr Matthew Higgins at the above number on extension 2065, quoting reference: D104 FORT/CURRAN/CUNTS.

  Thanking you in advance for your cooperation regarding this matter and I look forward to working with yourselves and other tenants in the area to ensure the success of this exciting and innovative project.

  Yours sincerely

  J.M. Gibson

  J.M. Gibson

  Director of Housing

  The contact guy, Higgins, was a supervisor in another section. Norrie hates him, so we were doing him a favour as well. We finished and were laughing our heids off. Attracted by our vociferous frivolity, Skinny-Specky and Tom came in, the latter asking, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Just doing the journals, like you says.’

  ‘I didn’t realise it would all be quite so amusing …’

  ‘It has its lighter elements,’ Sick Boy said, arching a Roger Moore eyebrow at Skinny-Specky Amelia.

  ‘Good, we could use some appropriate levity at the group meeting,’ Tom said urbanely, and Skinny-Specky shot him one of those admiring groupie I’ll-gam-ye-right-now looks.

  Day 27

  My puckish diversions with Sick Boy unfortunately meant that I now had to knuckle down and knock out something for Tom. So last night I stayed up writing, looking out into the moonlight filtering through the thin trees into the walled garden. The old stone wall tells you that an ancient house was probably sited here, most likely a grand villa, before being torn down to put up this fucking ugly, utilitarian construction.

  But with this pen and blank notepad, just looking outside, I’ve never felt so focused or alive. I came close when I was writing essays at the uni, but this is different. Instead ay building facts tae develop, challenge, then ultimately sustain a hypothesis, writing freestyle subjective stuff in ma journal makes me feel I’m getting closer tae some sort of veracity. By writing, you can use your own experience but detach it from yourself. You nail certain truths. You make up others. The incidents you invent clarify and explain as much as, sometimes more than, the ones that actually occurred.

  Then I’m back to Ulysses. If I get through this shite, it’s all down to Jimmy J; it’s great tae lock intae his Dublin. I’ll go ower thaire and check it oot one day.

  When I eventually fell into a sleep Sick Boy woke me up – cunt never seems to kip – only to tell me that he’s been kicked off the one-on-ones with Skinny-Specky and now has to work with Tom again. That he ain’t too happy is an understatement. ‘She said that I was behaving inappropriately. Of course, she’s just scared her ice-maiden front will slip. Just because I telt her straight: “I need to be honest, Amelia. We have a problem. I’ve developed strong feelings towards you.” Of course, she immediately goes, “This is inappropriate.” Fuck me, she’s like a Dalek. IN-A-PROP-REE-ATE … IN-A-PROP-REE-ATE –’

  ‘Fuck sake, Williamson, ah’m cream crackered here. Ah’ve just goat oaf intae nodland. Can this no wait till the morn?’

  I might as well have been talking tae masel.

  ‘So I sais tae her, “You can’t tell me to express my feelings, then start hiding behind roles whenever I do. It can’t be me putting up barriers, then you setting boundaries when it suits your purposes; that just reeks of hypocrisy. It’s fundamentally dishonest.” Well, you could tell that goat it right fuckin up her.’

  In spite ay ma exhaustion, I wis getting interested. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Oh, the usual pish: went on about how she was here tae help enable my rehabilitation, and it was me who was being dishonest and manipulative – ye ken how they try and twist things. Said I should explore why I can’t relate to a woman in any way other than a sexual one.’

  I tried to keep a straight face. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told her: who mentioned sex? That I wisnae trying tae cynically seduce her and was frankly offended at the inference. I agreed it would be completely inappropriate for us to have anything other than a client/practitioner relationship in here; that would undermine both my recovery and her position at this facility, and I respected her too much to do that. That I was only mentioning those feelings to try and get some transparency into what could be a tricky situation. That put her right on the back foot.’

  ‘Brilliant. You’re a sick cunt, but a fucking genius. What did she say? How did she respond?’

  You could see him bridling back some indignation, deciding to simply take the praise. ‘She was flustered, so I steamed in. “I’d really like to see you outside, once this is all over,” I told her. “I appreciate that you may have a partner, perhaps even be in a committed relationship …” she kept her pus straight, but I read it like she wisnae getting a length, “… I’m talking about as a friend, to have a coffee and a chat. That’s all I can ask at this stage.”

  ‘So she looks at me that inscrutable way and says, “You’re a very young man, Simon …”

  ‘“And you’re a young woman,” I hit back.

  ‘At that point I sensed she was fighting back a girly blush, but she said, trying to be that urbane way, “I think I’m considerably older than you imagine.”

  ‘“Funny … I put us at around the same age,” I told her. “Obviously, with your qualifications, you must be maybe one or two years older than me … but this is all irrelevant.”

  ‘“Yes,” the frosty hoor went right on the counter-attack, “it certainly is. What is relevant is that our working relationship has been compromised. I’ll arrange for you to go back to Tom for your one-on-one counselling.”

  ‘Fuckin hell, I could feel myself panicking big time as I tried to talk her roond, “I just don’t relate to him like I do you.” Ken what she sais?’

  ‘Nup. What?’

  ‘“It’s how you’re relating that’s the issue.” And she wouldnae discuss it further.’

  Once again, he sat up most of the night talking in an even monologue, almost all of it self-justifying bullshit. After a while, I couldnae pick oot a word he wis saying, but the weird thing was that I didnae want him tae go now, as his voice wis oddly relaxing, and it wis helping me drift off. But the fucker snapped his fingers in my face a couple of times so I telt the cunt tae get tae fuck. But as soon as he left
, I was wide awake again.

  Day 28

  How long does it have tae fuckin rain ootside? It seems tae have been pishin doon with nae respite since I got here. How long can you feast your eyes on the scrawny limbs of the trees, watching birds drop out of the sky? Looking out at the shadowy overhang, reproaching yourself for living badly?

  Depressed as fuck. Feeling like Neil Armstrong, walking around in a heavy spacesuit, a layer of ay steamed-up glass between masel and the rest of ay the universe. I’d be happier on the moon. Armstrong, Aldrin – and the third poor bastard that no cunt kens, him who went all that way and never got tae step outside the command module – you wonder why they bothered coming back.

  Day 30

  Breakfast: Porridge, toast, tea.

  Meditation: A shaky, ill-constructed, frustrating wank in my room.

  Process group: Molly being passive-aggressive to Audrey, making her deliberately uncomfortable by trying to force her into opening up. ‘It makes me sad when ye jist sit thaire sayin nuthin, Audrey, cause ah feel you’ve a lot tae offer the group n we’re no seein that right now. It also makes me feel isolated as ah’m the only lassie speakin up in the group.’

  Auds sits chomping intae the skin around her nails. No comment.

  Tom nodding slowly, then regarding Audrey, ‘Audrey, how does that make you feel?’

  Audrey turning to him, and saying, in an even voice, ‘Ah’ll talk when I want tae talk, no when it suits other people.’ Then she looks at Molly wi steel in her eyes. Molly’s as shocked as the rest ay us, visibly backing doon, shrinking intae her chair. So barry to witness!

  AUDREY RULES!

  Substance dependency group session: Molly Bloom, after her psychic mauling from Auds, has come back out punching at the patriarchy. It’s old adversaries Seeker and Swanney that she has in her sights. ‘How can they be part ay this group if they’re dealers? If they make thair money by supporting people’s addiction, sorry,’ she looks at Tom, ‘substance dependency? Ah cannae see it. Ah jist dinnae git it.’

  They sit back impassively enjoying her anger. But I’m a tad miffed at her constant criticism of oor muckers on the supply side. Where would we be without them? There’s a scary thought! Skag, skag, skag, how we loved it; that pure, white shite we’d cop for wi such enthusiasm doon at Johnny’s. He called it China White, but this shit had never seen the Orient n it wis an open secret it came fae a lot closer tae hame. For me it was love at first bang, marriage at first chase. Aye, ah love ma skag. Life should be like it is when you’re skagged up. ‘Maybe the point is that we all support addiction in our own ways,’ I venture, suddenly scared ay how much I sound like Tom.

  The man himself speculates, ‘Is that not the nature of the disease?’

  ‘It’s not a disease.’

  ‘Okay, condition,’ he does that inverted-commas-wi-the fingers thing, ‘if that makes people feel more comfortable.’ He looks around the shoulder-jolting sea of call-it-what-the-fuck-ye-like faces. ‘We don’t operate on a strictly medical model of addic—substance dependency,’ Tom concedes, and I can’t help a triumphant swagger in the chair as the ooohs go round the stadium at this faux pas.

  Great pro that he is, Brian, I think the lad Curzon will be as upset as anyone by that enforced error.

  Individual counselling: Felt crap and said nothing ‘of significance’. Then Tom asked me about my relationships. I felt too uncomfortable talking about my family, or Fiona or Hazel, so I mostly rabbited on about Charlene, describing her as ‘the love of my life’. He seemed only mildly perturbed when I told him she was a professional shoplifter.

  ‘What did you love about her?’

  ‘Her hair. It was amazing, a real force ay nature. She had a barry erse n aw.’

  ‘What aspects of her personality appealed to you?’

  ‘I liked her professionalism. How she could spot a store detective easily. They were generally male, thirty-five to forty-five and, in body-language terms, looked like amateur shoplifters. In between pretending to scrutinise goods, they glanced at shoppers; judging clothing, then searching faces and watching hands. Simply dressing well took you off the radar of around 80 per cent of them. All eyes would be on the shell suits or the scheme labels. An Adidas crest on a garment always set off alerts. Charlene’s chorrie bag usually had a badminton racket sticking ootay it, tae convey a sporty and thus wholesome image. She wore great make-up when she went out to thieve; it shot her right up the social ladder fae Thames Estuary estate tae Young Conservative. Wisnae much impressed by ma clobber, though. “You look like a junky shoplifter, Mark,” she’d tell me.’

  I watched the muscles in Tom’s visage slowly slacken and droop.

  Journal Entry: Insight into my condition

  I accept that I’m somehow, and for some obscure, pervasive reason, doing this stuff with heroin to myself. I’m not going along with all that powerless loser shite that it’s a disease.

  IS IT FUCK A DISEASE.

  I’ve done this to myself. I could be anticipating graduating from university, or perhaps getting engaged tae a beautiful girl. Aye, I could go on about addiction as an ailment, absorb myself in the medical model, but now that I’ve detoxed, I’m officially no longer physically addicted to heroin. Yet at present I crave it more than ever; the whole social thing; copping, cooking, banging up and hanging out with other fucked-up ghosts. Shuffling around at night like a vampire, heading for grubby flats in run-down parts of the city, tae talk shite with other deranged, unstable losers. How can I sanely prefer that sort of activity to being with – making love to – a sweet girl, going to a film, or a gig, or having a few beers and heading to the football FITBA FITBA FUCKIN FITBA with my mates? But I do. The psychological dependency is stronger than ever. It’s wrecking my life, but I need it.

  I’m no ready tae stop.

  But if I say that in all honesty tae Tom and Amelia, the game’s fuckin over.

  Day 31

  Swanney leaves; his time here is up. Most people are relieved, cause he’s been a bit ay a cunt tae them. I think it’s a defence mechanism with him. Something scares him: it’s buried deep, but you can sense it. He’s usually fine wi me, like when I first kent him at the football fitba. As he comes to my room to say farewell, he talks about getting some poppy thegither and gaun oaf tae Thailand. He starts slaverin about oriental girls, stuff about their fanny slits running east–west rather than north–south, and I find myself tuning it out. It’s hard tae listen tae anybody else’s libidinous fantasies when your own are so raw and vivid.

  I would fuckin kill for a ride right now.

  Journal Entry: On housebreaking

  I have to be honest and admit it: I love housebreaking! And the main motivations are not even monetary gain or class-war politics (although I’ve only ever screwed, or intend to screw, big, posh homes). No, it’s primarily about being interested in how other people live. I generally treated the places I broke into with respect, encouraging accomplices to do the same. In one house, judging by the pictures on the walls and the fridge, the holidaying family seemed really nice, so I wrote them a note apologising for any hassle and trauma caused by the break-in. I stressed that it wasn’t personal and we needed the money, told them how we gained access and even offered some basic tips on home security.

  The behaviour in my last house, the QC’s place, where I wrote the stuff on his wall about Cha (basically to placate Begbie, who I felt was getting dangerously radge), was pretty much out of character.

  I knew it wasn’t the case, but I always regarded myself as more of a guest than a thief.

  Day 32

  Missing Spud and Swanney (I’m probably the only one with regard to the latter). Keezbo very depressed. Talks the same shite over and over. He always seems like he wants to tell me something profound, so I sit him down, all ears, and then it’s back tae the same old about being imprisoned by Moira and Jimmy oan the balcony at the Fort. I love the man, but he’s starting tae fracture my tits and I find myself avoiding him as much as
I can.

  Now I’m empathising with Tom and Skinny-Specky; they must feel like that all the time. But fuck them, they’re gittin fuckin peyed fir it.

  Journal Entry: Concerning my ma and her ma

  My ma was taking me to the dentist. I was about ten. It was a hot day so we stopped in Princes Street Gairdins for some tea for her n juice for me. A group of tourists asked us directions in broken English, and she started spraffin away in perfect French, engaging them in an extended conversation.

  Afterwards, when they left, she looked guilty. Embarrassed that she’d done this in front ay me. I kept asking her how she kent so much French; I wouldnae let it go. She eventually confessed tae us that she’d got a scholarship tae James Gillespie’s Girls’ School, but her cunt of a ma, auld Granny Fitzpatrick, wouldnae let her go. Said it was ‘too far’ fae Penicuik, being ‘two buses’ away. The worst part wis I mind ay Ma sayin, ‘Ah suppose it wis for the best.’

  Even then I thought: wis it fuck for the best.

  Day 33

  After brekkie, two newcomers tae the unit. A wee gadgie, his gait hobbled tae a slow shuffle, and wi a pronounced tendency tae drool, and an astonishingly fat lassie, even bigger than Keezbo. There’s no fuckin way she could’ve been a smackheid, surely. But the politics ay the situation hold little interest fir me, as I’m anticipating getting the fuck oot myself, and am determined to tough it oot.

  Yet I find myself oddly resenting them, this duo who look so alone, so scared. It’s pathetic and wrong tae feel this way, but tae me the cunts are strangers, intruding on our wee scene.

  Day 34

  Some fucker’s always upset some cunt the previous day, so breakfast is generally where the nervous reparations are made. The porridge is good this morning, thick rather than watery or lumpy.

  Molly getting humped regularly by Sick Boy has upset Seeker, who – as alpha male – obviously feels that he should have first dibs on any ganting-on-it minge. Too bad for him that, in human society, dominance is always a wee bit more complex than in the animal world. The hardest cunt might no always be the biggest fanny merchant; in fact, they very rarely are. Sometimes they might be behind the handsome gadgie or the gabby, cocky fucker, or even the sportsman, comedian or intellectual in the riding queue. No wonder they can get so uptight.