A Decent Ride: A Novel
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Irvine Welsh returns to Edinburgh, the home of Trainspotting and so many of his novels since, with a new novel featuring one of his most iconic and beloved characters—'Juice' Terry Lawson—that's thick on the Scottish brogue, heavy on the filth and masterful in its comedic timing.
A Decent Ride sees Irvine Welsh back in Edinburgh, this time with one of his most compelling and popular characters front and center: the rampaging force of nature that is 'Juice' Terry Lawson, first seen in Glue.
Juice is a man who contains multitudes: he's a top shagger, drug-dealing, gonzo pornstar and taxi driver. As we ride along in Juice's cab through the depraved streets of Edinburgh, Juice encounters a series of charmingly filthy characters, each of whom present their own, uh, unique challenges. Has he finally met his match in Hurricane 'Bawbag'? Can he discover the fate of the missing beauty, Jinty Magdalen, and keep her idiot-savant lover, the man-child Wee Jonty, out of prison? Will he find out the real motives of unscrupulous American businessman and reality-TV star, Ronald Checker? And, crucially, will Juice be able to negotiate life after a terrible event robs him of his sexual virility, and can a new fascination for the game of golf help him to live without . . . a decent ride? (The meaning of the title is starting to sink in now, huh?). So buckle your seatbelts and prepare for one unforgettable ride.
fae Yvette, the Ginger Bastard’s ma, whae’s gaun crazy, insistin that ah meet her first thing this morning. Ah makes some porridge, cuttin back oan the salt for this ticker, watchin the early-morning Scottish news. Ah recognise the building the cameras ur at, so ah turns it up n it’s a feature oan the missin Bowcullen Trinity whisky, and how an anonymous party is offerin a reward ay twenty grand for information leadin tae its return. Ronnie. Well, ah suppose when you’ve flung that much dosh away
durty wi Terry n other laddies, but seemed nice, n they wirnae owerfat like oor Karen. —Aye? That wid be double barry! Aye sur, aye sur, aye sur… —Ah’ve got ye a ticket doon thaire, Terry goes. —Ah ken ye need tae get away, mate, n eh hands ays a ticket fir a train. For London! —Ah’ve nivir been tae London, ah goes. —Ah’ve been oan a train but. Tae Aberdeen n tae Glesgay. —Well, you’ll be screen-tested, mate. Tae git intae they vids ah showed ye, the yins wi me n they barry lassies? Before ma
in thaire? Eh! What ur ye daein? Jinty? Aye, yer in thaire! Aye sur! Aye! It’s wee Jonty. Oor eyes ur poppin oot oor heids n Barksie pits one hand ower ma mooth, n a finger acroass ehs ain lips. —Ah ken yir in thaire, Jake n Sandra fae behind the bar telt us, aye they telt us likes, aye, aye, aye…in thaire, Jinty… —Jonty, ah’m jist huvin a wee bit ay a livener…ah tells um. Ah cannae even be bothered tryin tae pit ma blouse back oan, ah’m fuckin melted. —Jinty! Come oot! Come oot! Dinnae touch
brother.” Terry, then a teenager, could see that the kid was as uncomfortable as he was. Later, when Hank was a youth himself, he started drinking in Dickens Bar on Dalry Road, and Terry would stop in and they’d have the odd pint together. They bonded to an extent, as both were now blanking Henry. —Ah wis thaire n it wis like the doaktir boy sais it wis, peaceful…aye sur, peaceful. But ah gret whin she went, Terry, Mrs. Ulrich; aye, ah gret like a bairn. Aye sur, a bairn. Hank n aw. Hank gret
shakes ma heid, n looks up tae the ceiling. —What fuckin good does aw this dae? ah sort ay sais tae masel, but oot loud, then ah looks um right in the eye. —The only thing that’ll help me is a decent ride, n ye cannae sort that oot for ays. Aw youse dae is keep tellin me tae take aw they pills. Ah keep daein it, but ma life is shite n it’s gittin fuckin shiter by the day! So ah’m gaun oan, but the boy kens the score. Eh’s aboot ma age, wi a face thit looks like eh’s seen a bit ay life, like eh’s