we called him mother superior on account of the length of his habit.

aye. the trainspotting reference, here we go...

Choose Life. Choose a job.Choose a career. Choose a family. 

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 suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. 

Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. 

Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, 

spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. 

Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home,

 nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, 

fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. 

Choose your future. Choose life...

 But why would I want to do a thing like that?

 I chose not to choose life.

 I chose somethin' else.

 And the reasons?

 There are no reasons. 

Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?