Sick Boy

I know several people now who've stopped smoking cold-turkey since I started this blog. "The new baby's coming.". "I was smoking my self broke.". They make me sick! What weak excuses!

They leave me thinking of one of the great anti-heros of cinema in the last 15 years, Renton, the smackhead - thief - scam-artist from Trainspotting (I guess it helps to have your character portrayed by Ewen MGregor), and his... "known associate"... called Sick Boy.

"...Take Sick Boy, for instance, he came off junk at the same time as me, not because he wanted too, you understand, but just to annoy me, just to show me how easily he could do it...".

This is easier than 'coming off junk'.

"Relinquishing junk. Stage One: preparation. For this you will need: one room which you will not leave; one mattress; 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; paracetamol; mouth wash; vitamins; mineral water; Lucozade; pornography; one bucket for urine, one for feces, and one for vomitus; one television; and one bottle of Valium, which I have already procured, from my mother, who is, in her own domestic and socially acceptable way, also a drug addict.".

And me with my lovely freshmint chewing-gum and my tasty menthol inhaler.

"This was to be my final hit. But let's be clear about this: there's final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be? Some final hits are actually terminal one way or another, while others are merely transit points as you travel from station to station on the junky journey through junky life.".

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