choose a job. choose a career. choose a family. choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin can openers. choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. choose a starter home. choose your friends. choose leisure wear 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 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, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. choose your future.

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