Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good
health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed
interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose
your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose
a three-piece suite on hire-purchase in a range of fucking
fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on
a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on the couch watching
mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking
junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of
it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more
than an embarresment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned
to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.