Choose Life

Choose life.

Choose living below the poverty line straight from birth.

Choose tolerating the parents who spawned you against your will.

Choose to ignore your siblings’ existences.

Choose avoiding education by getting work.

Choose avoiding work by getting an education.

Choose peer-pressure, Tube strikes, double-dip recessions and migration crises.

Choose to work the same trade for the next 40 years because that’s all you know.

Choose stranger’s sofas, park benches, a night in the cells and sleeping in the back of someone’s Vauxhall Vivaro because there’s no housing fucking anywhere.

Choose 6 cans of K for £5.

Choose a different brand of cigarettes every 4 months according to inflation and the price hikes.

Choose to have all the salad on your kebab, even though you won’t eat the cabbage or the chilli but fuck it.

Choose Southend-on-Sea or Leicester Square for a night out because you don’t know where’s “cool” anymore.

Choose casual racism, xenophobia disguised as “banter” and closeted homophobia because you have a black friend and you like listening to Queen so you don’t really mean it, right?

Choose drawing a picture of an ejaculating penis on your ballot paper because they’re all knobs anyway and your vote won’t change anything.

Choose to call every policeman, bus driver, train driver, civil servant and government official a “jobsworth cunt” because that’s what they are.

Choose unjustified aggression and smashing glasses.

Choose curry nights, pizza nights and Fish Fucking Friday.

Choose to embrace absolutely none of the culture that your country has to offer.

Choose to read nothing but the Racing Post for the rest of your life.

Choose to spunk your week’s wages on the Fruity and then smash up the machine when you lose it all.

Choose to care more about your football team than your child’s education and wellbeing.

Choose arguing with the Mrs on any given Sunday, then getting your mam to ring her up and sort her out for you cos you can’t be arsed.

Choose three-day hangovers and projectile vomiting out of the taxi window.

Choose Hair of the Dog, always.

Choose food banks, robbing banks, cheeky wanks and empty petrol tanks.

Choose to go to the same 3* hotel in Benidorm with the Mrs and kids, every June for a fortnight, for the rest of your life.

Choose paella and chips. Or omelette and chips. Or just the chips because you don’t trust foreign food.

Choose to slag off every Polish tradesman because they are more hardworking than you and they’ve nicked all the jobs.

Choose to let your kids run riot around the pub while you sit with your mates for 6 hours, ignoring your spawn while you drink yourself into oblivion.

Choose kicking chairs over at the Job Centre and then having to beg the staff to sign you on the dole.

Choose to hate all Americans and the whole of America, but take the kids to Disneyland Florida.

Choose Sunday sessions, shagging 16 year olds and skanky strip clubs.

Choose to never cry in front of anyone because it’s a sign of weakness.

Choose prison tattoos and stolen booze.

Choose Oasis, The Who and The Rolling Stones because they’re all proper British rock bands, like.

Choose to keep your mind as narrow, tiny and uneducated as humanly possible.

Choose only one town to have roots in so you can be born there and die there too because there isn’t a whole planet to explore and even though you’ll spend your years calling this town a shithole, it’s your shithole.

Choose to bang on about how nobody knows their neighbours anymore, but then don’t make any effort whatsoever to get to know your own neighbours.

Choose to whinge and complain about absolutely fucking everything because life is just shit.

Choose to do nothing at all to change your shit life into a good life.

Choose to take it out on all the other people around you who are also living really shit lives so you can all be miserable together.

Choose to go to each other’s funerals but only because you “feel like you have to” and you “heard it’s gonna be a free bar.”

Choose to do too much cocaine at your mate’s wake and get barred from the venue because (even though he died of a drug overdose) “it’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Choose cremation because it’s cheaper and you went to school with John, the guy who works at the crematorium, so he might give your Mrs a few quid off.

Choose not having a free bar at your wake because fuck ’em, they can pay for their own fucking drinks, the bastards.


  1. I’m insanely in love with this. Everything about it. Pure wonder.

    “Choose drawing a picture of an ejaculating penis on your ballot paper because they’re all knobs anyway and your vote won’t change anything.” Perfect.

  2. Genuinely genius. Fortunately I didn’t recognise too many in my own persona (honest), but then I already know I’m a cunt.

    1. Hahaha. Yeah the word “cunt” is so overused in my environment that it has completely lost all of its power to offend. It’s actually used as a term of endearment sometimes! X

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