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.
Iggy Pop was right. There’s too much fucking information.
We’d read junkie comics, act shit out, take a stab at writing crap rock songs.
People think it must be fun sharing a flat with a junkie, but it’s no laugh.
But it’s alright if you like it. Choose it. It’s not a bad life, if you’re thinking that.
There were no amendin’ to the script, so it meant this was to finality, right?
It’s always deceiving when they have a sunny day in Scotland.
You could just enjoy alcohol without being comatose at the same time.
You chose not to do it. You chose life.
I wasn’t sick or ill or even alone, just fizzy.
Beauty hides in the strangest places.
We took what we wanted and left the rest.
No satisfaction, just a list of apologies, a conscience that won’t do anything but sting.
We were having a wee drink in the pub and thinking about what you just said. Why? What are you thinkin’?
It all starts with a choice.
I’m feelin’ creative, dangerously creative!
Choose something or someone and then take it or fuck them on.
Addiction is a universal language.
Tell me, have you ever kicked a habit?
Don’t you ever have any good relationships?
You’re a tourist, mate. You’re on holiday.
But that was years ago, I now find myself completing more circuits than the National Grid.
People think it’s all about misery and desperation and death and all that shit which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is happiness.
You’re a moron, Spud. You never break into a mate’s flat.
Pretty vacant, eh?
The full-on, fuckin’ schlopnick, no shite, ‘sotypical male twont package.
They never remind you of the joyous times, for some reason.
The laws of karma are more powerful than any law in the land.
Ask me why did Sick Boy beg this land for his dirty money.
I’m just in from a kipfer an’ already these fucks are annoyin’ me.
Choose to sit in the front row seat.
Satellites are fucking beautiful, comin’ and goin’.
Tell me lies about Iraq and Syria.
You think I’m intrigued, Mary Bell, intrigued by Candida, Mirka, Lulu…
Would you be prepared to take part in a survey?
I don’t wanna be just a tourist in my own youth anymore.
All I’ve seen of Tommy so far is a mopey cunt.
That have these fuckin’ crosses.
I’m gon’ be sick, Boys.
How goes for with women these days?
There’s plenty of organizations. They feed, clothe and shelter you, can’t complain about it.
I’m gon’ move, Headcase. Git out me way.
I’m not in poverty, I’m a junkie. It’s not an alternative lifestyle…
You have to interrupt me, but Noo and Then.
I’ve never felt so alive.
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