‘Am I 68? 69?’ Irvine Welsh on growing old, getting clean, bashing out his new novel – and flirting with guns

Three decades after he channelled his heroin addiction into the cult classic Trainspotting, the Scottish author has discovered the joys of yoga, breathwork and standing desks. But is he quite as ‘Zen’ as he claims? By rights, Irvine Welsh ought to be photographed somewhere gritty, looking grumpy, he says: “That’s the brand.” Beside a graffitied wall or at the docks, with a beanie pulled low, and definitely not smiling. But here he is, clear-skinned and wholesome in shorts and a T-shirt, drinking tea and – it’s hard to think of anything more off-brand – talking about the health benefits of yoga. Given his reputation for having lived in the worlds his books portray, he should or could look a lot worse. He guffaws at this, eyes a delighted blue, and repeats the phrase as if he’s found a new personal tagline: “Could look a lot worse!” Over the three decades since his cult debut, Trainspotting, was published in 1993, Welsh’s fiction has explored with humour the darker side of life. Drugs, c...

The Black Demon review daft but fun giant-shark mayhem on Mexican oil rig

Sincere performances and lively banter turn hokey into entertaining as Josh Lucas’s engineer and his family do battle with a megalodon

It would seem that megalodons are the menace of the moment. These ginormous sharks, thought to be extinct for millions of years, have been retro-spawned for entertainment purposes by the audiovisual-industrial complex – specifically in the Meg franchise but also on the Discovery Channel – because great white sharks, veterans of the Jaws movies, just don’t cut it any more. Still, in thematic terms there’s a throughline that connects most shark movies: one way or another, they’re all about the return of the repressed, with the sharks manifesting the oceanic subconsciousness’ raging, violent id that has been enraged by the human superego effort at mastery over nature. In the original Jaws, it’s not so much Bruce the shark that’s the big bad as it is the township’s greedy mayor, determined to declare the beach safe in the interests of capitalism.

Directed by American Adrian Grunberg, its screenplay written by Boise Esquerra working from a screenplay by Carlos Cisco, The Black Demon effectively sticks to this well-greased formula. Yes, there’s a ginormous shark pootling around the waters along the coast of Mexico, locally known as “el demonio negro”. But the real, nefarious behemoth of the deep is a leaky oil-drilling platform offshore that was installed by a fictional conglomerate known as Nixon Oil, the name itself redolent of right-wing gringo corruption. (Which is ironic because Richard Nixon, for all his sins, was the president who started the Environmental Protection Agency.) Paul (Josh Lucas) is an engineer who works for Nixon, and as the film starts he arrives in the town nearest to the rig he supervised building years ago, with his wife, Ines, (Fernanda Urrejola) and two kids, Audrey (Venus Ariel) and Tommy (Carlos Solórzano) in tow for a family vacation while he inspects the rig.

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