The 10 Most Memorable Drug Addicts On TV Shows

Rising star Danny Brown has dubbed himself the "Adderall Admiral," but Edie Falco's return to television last night as pill-popping ER heroine Jackie Peyton on the Showtime series Nurse Jackie can be seen far and wide as an unofficial throwing down of the gauntlet. From bumps in the bathroom to afternoon delights concealed in sugar packets, the medical professional has more than proved over the past three seasons that she'll go to extremes when it comes to getting her fix. (We can't vouch for Brown sleeping with a pharmacist just yet.)

Jackie, however, is far from the first of her kind. There are plenty of other TV characters that we know can sympathize with her jonesings, some of who are similarly hard-working professionals, others who've allowed their appetites for self-destruction to more literally to rule their lives. Whether they're making us laugh or making us shake our heads, these scene-stealing users have proved to be some of the greatest characters on the tube—and more effective cautionary tales than anything we learned in 8th grade health class.

Find out which addictive personalities left us fiending for more with our list of The 10 Most Memorable Drug Addicts On TV Shows.

Written by Lauren Otis (@LaurNado)

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Though more than half of the "tits"-sniffing Oswald Penitentiary residents are eligible for a spot on this list, one man rises above the rest as Top User. Known more commonly as Jamaican inmate "Desmond Mobay," ambitious detective John Basil (Lance Reddick) assumes the alias when he goes undercover as a wannabe pusher in efforts to bust the jail's seemingly impenetrable drug ring.

Despite his surprising grasp on the accent, things don't go as easily for him as planned. To gain the trust of the prison's dealers, he's forced to endure multiple tests to prove that he's down with them, the first being to snort multiple lines of the product that he's been so insistent on buying, yet never seen using. Surrounded by spectators, he has no choice but to comply (even though he's been forbidden from using while on assignment).

The rest of the story isn't pretty. Clearly unstable in the wake of his first heroin experience, he's thrown into solitary, emerging with a raging addiction that's further fueled by other sadistic trials that his new friends put him through. Yet he's still adamant about forging ahead with the plan, doing whatever it takes get in with the gang—for his assignment, of course. Even if it means wiping out some members of his own team.

Notice we didn't specify which character—that's not a mistake. On Brian Elsley and Jamie Brittain's British teen drama, uppers, hallucinogens, and pills of all shapes and colors flow freely between classmates who pop them like candy. Sure, one could argue that the three generations of Skins members qualify as recreational users, but when recreational raging tends to kick off at 8 in the morning, with pick-me-ups between classes and coke benders replacing dinner, it may be time to start thinking about some rehab.

P.S. Don't let the words "teen drama" fool you. This gritty show couldn't be further from family-friendly. Unless you enjoy watching full frontal with your parents.

You might not remember her by name (no surprise there, she didn't actually get one), but by God, her one-liner rings in your ears long after her stint on the show has passed, haunting your dreams, your booty calls, solidifying her status as The One Who Knocks...ATMs over onto people's heads.

Those in need of refresher might remember Jesse Pinkman's (Aaron Paul) street-level squad running intro a confrontation with meth head Spooge (David Ury) and his lady friend (Dale Dickey) back in Season Two. When Pinkman heads over to their place to reclaim what was jacked from his friend, an argument between the cracked-out duo breaks out, with Spooge calling his woman a skank after she challenges his competence in busting open their stolen money machine.

Bad move. As he lays on the floor with the ATM propped, attempting to drill the cash out from the bottom, his heated lover silently whispers, "I ain't no skank," before toppling it over onto his head and sauntering over to the couch for a nap.

And you thought Gus Fring was scary.

Jessie Spano (Elizabeth Berkley) never huddled around a burning garbage can with a crew of squatters or sold her body for cash (that wouldn't happen until Berkley did Showgirls), but her fleeting addiction to caffeine pills as she struggles to prep for exams and a performance with her (admittedly lame) girl group, Hot Sundae, quickly resulted in "Jessie's Song" becoming the most beloved, albeit mocked, episode of Saved by the Bell in history.

Did people even know who the Pointer Sisters were prior to this storyline? It doesn't matter. Once our girl opened up her mouth and let those magic, overacted lines fly, everyone was instantly hooked on a new version of their hit: "I'M SO EXCITED! I'M SO EXCITED! I'M SO...SCARED!!!"

Boasts of an organic vegan lifestyle didn't make Jason Stackhouse's (Ryan Kwanten) tree-hugging ex any less of a blood-thirsty psychopath. With an itch that could only be scratched by vampire blood (a powerful upper known simply as "V" in the twisted world of Charlaine Harris-authored fantasy), Amy Burley (sexy Lizzy Caplan) resorted to kidnapping and imprisoning an innocent vampire so that she could have her own fresh supply whenever she liked.

Helpfully suggesting that perhaps a sense of Stockholm syndrome would kick in, to appease her boyfriend's stress over the situation, Burley begins to feign niceness with her captive. It doesn't last long. Once her man takes a stand for their deceased new housemate, she loses her shit and stabs the vamp in the heart, resulting in a spewing of blood and guts all over Stackhouse's basement.

Comparisons to Fox's House (another prescription drug-addled, yet competent medical professional worthy of honorable mention) are just about inevitable, but the blessing of a home on premium cable allows the story of emergency room nurse Jackie Peyton's (Edie Falco) addiction to venture into much grittier territory.

How often do you see a med pro doing shots of morphine like Jäger? Or reaching levels of desperation so low they'd pocket Fentanyl patches meant for cancer patients? If you didn't suffer a fear of hospitals prior to Nurse Jackie, you may suddenly find yourself far more wary of your prospective caretakers. Even mob wife Carmela Soprano begins to look sane next to Peyton.

Big T's power-hungry cousin, Chris (Michael Imperioli), was consumed by a number of troubles: envy, greed, hankerings for side-chicks, you name it, but most memorably, his drug and alcohol problems. Unfortunately, no amount of money or therapy were able to wipe him completely clean of his reliance on the two to deliver him some peace from his "family" feuds.

In fact, if you take a look back, cocaine and heroin were often the root of his most fatal mistakes (*SPOLER ALERT)—his being fingered for possession by undercover cop "Danielle," his fiancee's resulting relationship with the FBI as an informant, his final vehicular altercation with Tony (James Gandolfini), which could've been easily-avoided had the guy just chosen not to sniff-and-drive, and let's not forget him crushing his lady's pooch after sitting on top of her in a lifted state. Well, guess that was more fatal for the dog.

"Call Tyrone?" In this case, we'd advise against Badu's parting words—unless you want your shit stolen and hustled for crack rocks. No list of addicts would be complete without quintessential crackhead Tyrone Biggums, Dave Chappelle's creation from Season One his superior, self-titled sketch comedy show and 2003 Halloween costume of choice of dudes across the country. On a budget? That's fine. All one really needed was a red winter hat and some flour on their lips—the character became that recognizable.

Better than watching partiers attempt their best helium-voiced impersonations, though, was watching Biggums himself unleash his best impression of an anti-drug speaker to a room full of wide-eyed middle school kids. Of his first experiences with weed, he reminisces, "Me and my friends would laugh and giggle and eat all the cookies. It was terrible! TERRIBLE!" Once class was dismissed, you know those students were all on the first D bus over to see Martinez. (We hear his stuff is the bomb.)

Cap'n Cook (Aaron Paul) has come a long way from his humble, chili powder-sprinkling beginnings. When chemistry teacher Walter White (Bryan Cranston) crossed paths with his pitiful former student for the first time in years, he was sneaking out of a meth lab that his brother-in-law (Dean Norris) had brought him along to raid. From there, an unlikely partnership formed and the two rose to the top of the ABQ drug game with a little help from their "friends" (crooked lawyers, sociopathic chicken chain managers, an entourage of corny junkies, etc.).

Pinkman, an avid user himself, goes through waves of keeping clean, but when problems come a-knocking, his bowl has a tendency to resurfacing to provide him some temporary crystal comfort. Though Paul has stated in past interviews that his secret to nailing the character's highs has been watching druggies on YouTube, he's got that tweak factor down so well that one could swear he was a method actor.