T2 Trainspotting (2017) - Quotes

Franco: All right, Murphy?

Murphy: Franco.

Franco: Sit down, sit down. Now... So where is he? Don't say, "Who? Don't say, "I don't know." Just fucking tell me where he is. Still a junkie, Murphy?

Murphy: No. I'm clean now, Frank.

Franco: [''Observing yellow pages taped to the wall''] You? Clean? Fucking joke. What is all this shit anyway?!

Murphy: It's just, like, stories and that.

Franco: Stories"? What are you writing stories for? Who's gonna read shit written by a cunt like you?

Murphy: Just thought maybe my grandchildren, or...

Franco: You got grandchildren?

Murphy: No.

Franco: What you writing fucking stories for them for?! They may not even like stories! You thought of that?!

Murphy: No. That's a good point, Franco.

Franco: The sweat was lashing off Sick Boy." Sick... Sick Boy? What, is it about him?!

Murphy: It's about all of us, like.

Franco: All of you?! About me?!

Murphy: No, not about you.

Franco: [''Hands page to Murphy''] Fucking better not be. "Strolling Through the Meadows." Here, read it.

Murphy: What?!

Franco: Read it!

Murphy: Strolling Through the Meadows. The pubs, like, dead busy. It's full o loco-locals and festival types. Cause the festival was going on, see, in the story. They're all having a little snort before heading off to the next show. Beg... Beg... I was definitely gonna cut this bit out, Frank.

Franco: Well, fucking read it.

Murphy: Begbie's pissed his jeans.

Franco: I remember that night. Read on.

Murphy: What?

Franco: Read on. Read on.

Murphy: The boy, likes, just wouldn't hand over the wallet, even when Begbie pulled the knife, like. The last words I heard the dude say was, You won't use that. Begbie went fucking crazy, got, like, that carried away with the bladework, you know. We nearly forgot the wallet, likes. Blood was flowing into the latrine, mixing with the piss.

Franco: Blood. Mixing with the piss. It was an ugly sight, man. Murphy. You've got hidden talents, man.

Murphy: [[w:333 Premium Export Beer|a pint of Export; ''Franco rises up and passionately re-enacts the scene speaking in unison with Murphy''] Then it happens. All I did was put ] in front of Begbie. He takes one fucking gulp out o it. Then he throws the empty glass from his last pint straight over the balcony in a casual backhand motion. The glass crashes down on this girl's head, which splits open as she falls to her knees. Begbie's on his feet and we're racing down the stairs, and he shouts... That lady got glassed! And no cunt leaves here till I find out what cunt did it.

Franco: That is lovely. What else have you got? What's this? What's this? London, London. Renton had never seen so much money. He stole the money. Took it from his friends.

Murphy: What? No, that is just a story, that one. That is just a little story. Renton felt no sympathy for Begbie. No. Renton's real guilt was for Spud. He loved Spud. Spud had never hurt anybody. If there was one person whom Renton would try to compensate, it was Spud.

Franco: Compensate"? I'm only gonna fucking ask you this once. How much money did he leave you?

Murphy: £4,000. Left it in a locker.

Franco: Well, you didn't fucking tell us that at the time.

Murphy: I'm sorry, Franco.

Franco: Don't fucking move.

Murphy: I did steal the money, but they shouldn't have been surprised. I mean, we stole from all sorts of people. Shops, businesses, neighbors, family. Friends was just one more class of victim. In the morning, when you were gone with my money, I was furious, but also I thought,

Franco: Course he's taken it. "Why wouldn't he?

Viktoria: Daniel?

Murphy: It's me. I'm not here.

Viktoria: What do you mean, you're not here?

Murphy: Go! Veronika, you cannot be here. Please. It's not safe for you, kitten-cat. You got to vamoose.

Viktoria: What happened?

Murphy: Tell Mark. Tell Simon. They need to run quick. The Beggar is on the loose. Please, Veronika, he'll be back at any minute.

Viktoria: [''Franco appears in doorway''] Who will be back?

Franco: Well, well, well. Rescue. This your bird, Murphy?

Murphy: [''Franco forces Veronika up against a wall with his face menacing hers''] Please, Franco, leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.

Franco: Course she hasn't. What would she be doing with an ugly cunt like you? What's your name, doll?

Viktoria: Veronika.

Franco: Veronika. Well, that's lovely. And how do you know Mr. Murphy here?

Viktoria: Simon.

Franco: Simon? Good old Simon. And what about Simon's very best friend? You know him and all? You got a phone?

Viktoria: A phone?

Franco: Aye. A mobile phone. You know the kind of thing.

Viktoria: Yes.

Franco: Give it.

Viktoria: But you have to let us go. Both of us.

Murphy: Another?

Viktoria: No, I'm fine.

Murphy: Where are you going? You shouldn't be out in this neck of the woods, kitten-cat.

Viktoria: I have a plan for us.

Murphy: What?

Franco: [[w:Leith Central Station|Leith Central Station] We went for a piss in the old ]. Me, Renton and Begbie. Place was empty, soon to be demolished. Some size o station this was. Used to be steam engines to all over from here. Choo-fucking-choo! An old drunkard, whom Begbie had been looking at, lurched up to us, wine bottle in his hand. What're you up to, lads, eh? Trainspotting? In Leith Central? He says, laughing. I noticed Begbie seemed strangely subdued and uncomfortable. They fucking turn it on for you. Fucking shit-bag! It was only then I realized the old wino was Begbie's father. First, there is an opportunity. And then, there's a betrayal. And that's how it ends.

Mark: I didn't know.

Simon: Okay, okay. I might've heard something. I'm sorry I didn't mention it.

Mark: You might've heard something?

Simon: All right, fuck it. I knew. I knew, and I could have served you up to him on a plate any time I wanted to.

Mark: I bet you were fucking looking forward to it, too, weren't you?

Simon: Yeah, yeah, I was. I was looking forward to it.

Mark: I ought to fucking kill you.

Mark: Fuck is this?

Doyle: It's Mark and Simon, right? Do you know who I am? Good. So you know that I own a couple of saunas in the north of Edinburgh. In fact, you boys should know, I own all the saunas in Edinburgh. So your venture was never gonna happen, was it? I couldn't have you on my doorstep in competition for my members of staff, for my clientele. It was never gonna happen, Simon, was it?

Simons: No, Mr. Doyle.

Doyle: [''Scene of Doyle is showing their picture on his phone to sauna girls who nod in recognition''] Right answer. I wouldn't let it happen. And it's not gonna happen, right? Thankfully for you two, I've done some due diligence on you, and what I hear is you're a couple of losers. Two absolute losers. How's that sound, Simon?

Simon: Yeah, yeah, that's probably right enough.

Doyle: Aye. "Probably right enough." Right answer. Take your clothes off. All of them. Fuck's sake.

Mark: Probably right enough, Mr. Doyle.

Simon: If you groveled a bit more, we might not be going home in the buff.

Mark: At least I have my dignity.

Simon: Is that what you're calling it?

Mark: Are you ready?

Simon: No.

Mark: Come on.

Mark: [[w:Leith|Leith] This is the renovation and conversion of an iconic ] building. We see it very much as being an artisanal bed-and-breakfast experience. A destination in its own right. Artworks by local artists on the walls. Locally sourced fresh food. Outreach programs to inspire children in school to think outside the box. To inspire in them a belief that... Yes, they can. There was a time when this port served thousands of ships around the globe. Now it can rise again. And we believe our business will occupy a central role, both physically and emotionally, at the heart of this new wave of regeneration in Leith.

Simon: Leith 2.1.

Mark: Exactly.

Murphy: [[w:Western Union|Western Union; [w:Heroin|skag] We used to steal all this stuff. Fancy wallpaper. Sell on to the middle classes and that. Me and Mark used to steal all kinds of stuff, actually. Till we got caught. He got off. I got six months. Still, you find out what you're good at inside. Signatures... That's what I found out. Anyone's. If I seen it once, I can do it. So, when I got out, "Bye-bye, shoplifting. Hello, checkbook. Hello, check card. Up to ]. Signature, cash in hand. Up to Swanney's, pay off my debts, buy some ]. I was a portable fucking goldmine.

Veronika: So, what happened?

Murphy: Chip and PIN, debit cards, e-banking. Billionaires moving money at the touch of a button. There's no room for an honest artisan like me anymore.

Veronika: So, what did you do?

Murphy: [[w:panhandling|Back on the pavement. Seven days a week] ].

Veronika: I like your stories. I think you should write them down.

Murphy: You think?

Veronika: Yeah. Just write them the way you say them. They're funny. I would like to read them. Mark and Simon can help.

Murphy: [Voiceover reading from page] Tommy looks well. It's terrifying. He's gonna die. Sometime between the next few weeks and the next 15 years, Tommy will be no more. Chances are that I'll be exactly the same. Difference is we know this with Tommy. Tommy cannot get out.

Mark: [Reading aloud; [w:West Granton|West Granton] He cannot afford to heat his home, put himself in a bubble, live in the warm, eat good fresh food, keep his mind stimulate with new challenges. He will only live five or 10 or 15 years before he is crushed. Tommy will not survive winter in ].

Simon: Well, I'm trying hard, Mark, but I'm not feeling anything. We were young. Bad things happened. It's over. Can we go home now?

Mark: Two hours to the next train.

Simon: Oh, for fuck's sake.

Mark: Look, we're here as an act of memorial.

Simon: Nostalgia. That's why you're here. You're a tourist in your own youth. Just cause you had a near-death experience, and now you're feeling all fuzzy and warm. What other moments will you be revisiting? Here's a good one. How about the time you sold Tommy his very first hit, leading him on to heroin addiction, HIV infection, and ultimately his death at the age of... What was it, 22, 23?

Mark: Twenty-three.

Simon: Twenty-three. How innocent was that?

Mark: Aye, that's mine. How's yours?

Simon: Don't know what you're talking about.

Mark: [[w:Infant mortality|But she never got that far, did she? Never got to lead her life] She'd be a woman by now. Maybe kids of her own. ]. Because her father, someone who should have been looking after her, protecting his own infant, was too busy filling his own veins with heroin to check that she was breathing properly. How do you keep a lid on that one?

Mark: Well, that's that, then. Here we go.

Mark: Fuck's sake.

Franco: All right, doll.

Girl: Thanks.

Franco: Looking good, baby.

Girl: Not bad yourself, daddy-o.

Franco: Why, bring it over here.

Girl: Really?

Girl: I'm not wearing any knickers.

Franco: For fuck's sake. Well, tell you what... Just away for a piss. Back in a moment. We'll see what's happening, okay?

Girl: All right, then.

Franco: Aye.

Veronika: Simon and I do not sleep together.

Mark: No? I had wondered.

Veronika: Once, but... I'm his girlfriend, but it's business, really. Simon is not a good person. But I like him. More than he likes himself, I think.

Mark: Right, but if you're not... If there's no physical aspect to your relationship, I mean, you don't want to be, like... You know, wasting your time.

Veronika: What's "choose life"?

Mark: What?

Veronika: Choose life." Simon says it sometimes. He says, "Choose life, Veronika.

Veronika: I like you, Mark.

Simon: Hello, Franco.

Franco: Simon.

Simon: But you're not...

Franco: I'm out.

Simon: Out"?

Franco: Aye. Fucking shut up.

Simon: Yeah, sorry if I seemed a little shocked to see you, Frank. It's just... Well, I was gonna... I was gonna deal with this myself and then give you the good news, but... You're not gonna believe this. So, two days ago, I got a call from an old friend of mine. Gav Temperly. You remember him?

Franco: Aye.

Simon: Anyway. He's on business in Amsterdam. And he's in a café one morning, and he hears this voice beside him. A whiny, cunty voice.

Franco: No.

Simon: So he turns around, right? This is two fucking days ago. I'm just getting over it myself. There he is.

Franco: Holy fucking moly.

Simon: Hasn't changed in 20 years. Very same smug, little cunty grin across his ugly face.

Franco: For fuck's sake!

Simon: Aye, Renton. Mark fucking Renton. Living in Amsterdam all this time on our money.

Franco: Cunt. Did Renton clock him?

Simon: No. So Gav followed him. He went into an office block not far from the center of town. And Gav had to split then, but he's gonna go back. He's gonna hang out, he's gonna follow Renton home, and then...

Franco: And we're gonna pay him a visit.

Simon: Exactly.

Franco: I need a passport.

Simon: I can get you one. I'll take some weapons. Well, we can probably get weapons there, Franco.

Franco: Aye. Probably. They've got that kind of stuff in Amsterdam, eh?

Simon: Aye. Now, the important thing is for you to keep your head down. Low profile till the passport comes through, till I get the tickets. Cause this is an opportunity, Frank.

Franco: Right.

Simon: I'm gonna fucking tear him to pieces.

Franco: You most definitely fucking will.

Simon: Simon and I do not sleep together.

Franco: No? I had wondered.

Simon: Once, but...

Lawyer: So, are you the woman in the video?

Veronika: My face is not seen.

Lawyer: Do you have any identifying marks? Tattoos on your buttocks?

Veronika: Certainly not.

Lawyer: [[w:Perineum|perineum; ''Veronika looks confused and Mark leans over to whisper''] On your ]?

Mark: [[w:vagina|vagina; [w:anus|bumhole] It's the bit of skin between your ] and your ].

Viktoria: That's disgusting.

Lawyer: [[w:Vajazzle|vajazzled] So you're not ]. May I ask, what is your relationship with the accused?

Veronika: We are friends.

Lawyer: [''Mark walks back over''] Mark.

Lawyer: [''Mark walks away unimpressed''] She's too young for you.

Mark: [''Reading off laptop''] Here it is. "EU Small Business Development Loans. Zero-interest loans distributed regionally towards projects that stimulate regeneration of formerly industrial areas. Loans are available of up to 100,000. Applications should be made online, which may be followed by an invitation to present a business plan.

Simon: Blah, blah, fucking blah.

Mark: I'm trying to help you, Simon. We're blowing all that cashpoint money on lawyer's fees.

Simon: You could've got someone cheaper.

Mark: Well, I wouldn't have had to get anyone at all if you hadn't engaged in fucking blackmail. Is there anything left of your 4,000 I gave you?

Simon: No, I've got expenses, just like everyone else.

Mark: What, all of it? You snorted the whole fucking wad?

Simon: It's called debt, Mark.

Mark: The point is, we need cash now, not in six months time.

Simon: And you realize what's at stake here? I promised to set up a sauna for Veronika. And if I don't get it up and running soon, she's gonna leave me.

Mark: Fucking leave you anyway.

Simon: No, it's not gonna happen.

Mark: Is she actually even with you?

Simon: She's my girlfriend.

Mark: You've never ever been a normal junkie.

Simon: I have fucked her, and I'll fuck her again.

Mark: What? When she was working at the sauna?

Simon: That's not fair. You know, since we're having this conversation, I can tell you that fully consensual, emotionally driven, not-for-profit sexual intercourse has been attained.

Mark: Simon, you're a romantic.

Simon: Veronika and I have had our rough patches. I'll be the first to admit that.

Mark: Shall we submit this application?

Simon: Do what you want, but I need someone on-site working. I need progress. Now.

Frank: Junior. You coming, for fuck's sake?

June: Frank.

Frank: What? What is it now?

June: The boy.

Frank: What about him?

June: See, Frank, please don't be angry. It's just, he's not really...

Frank: Not really," what?

Frank Jr.: Sorry, Dad.

Frank: The fuck is that? You cannot go with me dressed like that.

Frank Jr.: See, I don't really think, you know, I'm into it.

June: He doesn't want to go, Frank.

Frank: Doesn't want to go? Where else you gonna go?

Frank Jr.: I was actually gonna go and meet some friends from the college. From the college, is it?

Frank: Right. Well, that's a blow and no mistake, no two ways about that.

Frank Jr.: Sorry, Dad.

Frank: Some way to treat your old man.

June: Please, Frank.

Frank: You shut the fuck up! Hotel fucking management.

Frank: You put him up to this.

Frank Jr.: Dad, it's not like that.

Frank: Shut the fuck up! "Dad." Maybe I'm not your dad. I see it now.

June: No, Frank.

Frank Jr.: Dad, leave it.

Frank: Leave it"? I don't want to fucking leave it! What if I don't want to fucking leave it? What you gonna do about that, eh? Tell you what...

June: No, Frank!

Frank: Shut it. Come on. Stick one on then, you cunt. Take a fucking swipe at me. Do it. Do it! No, you cannot fucking do that. See, if you were my son, you'd have stabbed us there. I'd be lying, breathing my last through a hole in my chest. But you cannot fucking do that.

Mark: And it's midnight. Start again.

Renton: [[w:George Best|Georgie Best; [w:Playboy Playmate|Playboy models; [w:champagne|champagne] So, there's this room service guy, right? And he comes into the room, and there is ] lying on the bed with two ]. Three in a bed, ] and a little bit of Charlie, and there's banknotes. But they're lying on the banknotes.

Veronika: Lying on the money?

Mark: Yes.

Veronika: Why?

Mark: I don't know. Because he has a lot of money. Or at least he had a lot of money at the time, anyway. The room service guy, he comes in, and he sees this scene that I just described to you, and he says, "George Best...

Simon: Greatest footballer of all time.

Mark: Exactly. "The greatest footballer of all time, I have to ask you, "'Where did it all go wrong?'" Where did it all go wrong? Where did it all go wrong? Where did it all go wrong, George Best?

Veronika: Yeah, but... I think that the room service guy, you know... I think he makes a very good point. No?

Mark: [[w:Hibernian F.C.|Hibs; [w:Fort Lauderdale Strikers|Fort Lauderdale Strikers; [w:San Jose Earthquakes|San Jose Earthquakes] He played for ] in 1979 between stints for the ] and the ]. I went to see him play, apparently. My dad took me. He said, "You've got to see this. You've got to see this player. "Got to see this greatest footballer of all time." So it was a big game, it was a big crowd, and a big guy in front of me. I couldn't see a thing. Not a single thing. Not for 90 minutes. But I've got the program, so... I mean, I've always got that, you know?

Mark: Thin. Thin. Nobody was fat back then.

Simon: It's not just the football, is it?

Mark: It's the end of austerity. There was no such thing even as a calorie till 1974.

Simon: [[w:Civil Rights|civil rights; [w:space exploration|space exploration] Welcome to the new age of ], ].

Mark: [[w:List of countries with McDonald's restaurants|McDonald's] You know what happened in 1974? The first ] in the UK.

Simon: [[w:John Barry|John Barry; [w:football boots|football boots] He's basically ] with ].

Mark: See, look at that guy. He would be scrawny today.

Simon: A great, swaggering, filthy piece of music.

Mark: But then... That was totally normal till 1974. It's insurrection!

Simon: That's the beauty of what he does.

Mark: [[w:South London|South London; [w:Woolich|Woolwich] You know what happened in 1974? First McDonald's. ]. ].

Simon: Cheers. Up your ass.

Mark: Placebo.

Simon: There's a fucking...

Mark: Do it. Let's do it. Fuck off.

Simon: Yeah!

Mark: Yeah!

Security guard: You not gonna give us a song?

Renton: I can sing. I'll just... I'll just fucking make something up. You can play the piano.

Simon: I can't play the fucking piano.

Renton: [''Renton takes the stage and Simon takes the piano''] You know those two chords. The fucking F and G march you used to play at school. Do that. Good evening. My mate and I would like to sing a song that we wrote.

Renton: No. Is... Is that it? It was the year of 1690, on the 11th of July, or the first in Julian calendar. Wait, wait, wait. Give me something with a little bit of rhythm. Here we go. It was on the field of battle, of hope we were bereft, but by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left.

Renton: We looked up to King William, on his chin a royal cleft, and by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left. Aye! Fucking right. His strategy was strong, his strategy was deft, by the time that it was over, there were no more Catholics left, the battle now victorious. We foiled his papist theft, when the time was over, there were no more Catholics left, aye!

Spud: I can feel again Mark, you know. I need to detox the system.

Renton: Oh Spud, detox the system... What does it even mean? It doesn't mean anything. It's not getting it out of your body, that is the problem, it is getting it out of your mind! You are an addict!

Spud: You think I haven't heard that a 100,000 times Mark? You go 12 steps ahead of me comrade.

Renton: So be addicted. Be addicted to something else.

Spud: Like running until I feel sick?

Renton: Yes! Or something else. You've got to channel it! You've got to control it! People try all sorts. Some people do boxing.

Spud: Boxing?

Renton: Well, it's just an example. I don't... I don't mean you should...

Spud: So what did you channel it into?

Renton: Getting away.

Simon: Hello Mark.

Mark: Simon.

Simon: So what you've been up to... for 20 years?

Mark: [[w:Amsterdam|Amsterdam] I've been in ].

Simon: Nice.

Mark: Alright.

Simon: So what else? Married?

Mark: Aye.

Simon: Nice.

Mark: Dutch woman.

Simon: Kids?

Mark: Two.

Simon: Boys or girls?

Mark: One of each.

Simon: Wee mark ey? Raise a chip off the old block.

Mark: James actually, and Lora. How about you?

Simon: I have a son. He is in London with his fucking whore mother.

Mark: See him?

Simon: Pretty regular, currently once every ten years!

Mark: Alright.

Sick Boy: Job?

Mark: Aye. I did an accounting course. I work for a small business. Stock management software for the retail sector.

Simon: Very nice. Well, as you can see I run my old aunty's pub. Very few customers, then they don't spend much. Sometimes I... I wonder if it's worth opening. The great wave of gentrification is yet to engulf us. There we go, eh? My lotted life!

Mark: I see.

Simon: [While beating mark] six...teen...thousand...pounds! You thieving fucking bastard!

Mark: You missed the trick, that's what hurts isn't it? I had the brains and fucking balls to steal the money, and you didn't!

Mr. Wilson: Give us your hands Frank, I am off for a dump.

Begbie: Oh come on, give us a break.

Mr. Wilson: That's the regulations Frank.

Begbie: Where the fuck am I going to go. All these chips stuck to me. Give a man a bit of dignity for one sec.

Mr. Wilson: All right. All right, Frank.

Begbie: You're a good man Mr. Wilson. I respect you for that.

Begbie: You fucking prick!

Tulloch: What is this?

Sick Boy: This is for you.

Tulloch: What?

Sick Boy: It's a recording. Keep sake, so the memory need never fade.

Tulloch: Who are you?

Sick Boy: I'm your blackmailer and your salvation. You cooperate with me, no one will ever see this video. Now my research suggests that he's the deputy head master of one of Edinburgh leading private schools. you earn near enough 70,000 pounds per annum. It's not in my interest to squeeze you too hard, but it is not in your interest to provoke me. So let's meet in the middle. 10% of your salary per annum paid monthly on a rolling indefinite basis.

Tulloch: You disgusting shite! I will not stand for this!

Sick Boy: [''Shows the pen drive''] Naturally, you'll have to lie to your wife. If you need inspiration, just imagine her reaction to that . Or how will this make interest of pupils at your elite private school. They might enjoy the interlude with the strap-on. I know I did.

Sick Boy: I am gonna text you the details of the bank account. I expect to see a 1000 pounds payment in there by the end of the week.

Veronika: These are not goals. These are political statements. It's still there. I've been there myself several times. You know nothing. You understand nothing. You live in the past. Where I come from the past is something to forget but here it's all you talk about. You are clearly so in love with each other that I feel awkward in your company. Instead of looking at me you should get naked and fuck each other.

Francis Begbie: [[The Bible|bible; [W:bibilical longevity |live forever] What do they think I am eh? Do they think I am like one of these cunts in the ] that ]?

Daniel "Spud" Murphy: [Renton has just saved Spud from asphyxiating] You ruined my life, and now you're ruining my fucking death too!

Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson: [Veronika counting the money] And what does he think I am? A whore? He can just pay me off 4000 pounds, not even the interest? What am I supposed to do with that? Buy a fucking time machine? Live my life all over again? Maybe this time without being robbed by my best fucking friend!

Mark Renton: [''Monologue that is a reference to the beginning of the first film, to Veronika in a restaurant''; [w:War on drugs|a well-meaning slogan from a 1980s antidrug campaign; [w:Lingerie|Designer lingerie; [w:On-again, off-again relationship|the vain hope of kicking some life back into a dead relationship; [w:handbag|handbags; [w:high-heeled shoe|high-heeled shoes; [w:Cashmere wool|Cashmere; [w:silk|silk; [materialism|to make yourself feel what passes for happy; [iPhone|iPhone; [w:Made in China (disambiguation)|made in China; [suicide|who jumped out of a window; [w:Sweatshop|South Asian firetrap; [Facebook|Facebook; [Twitter|Twitter; [w:Snapchat|Snapchat; [w:Instagram|Instagram; [w:troll (slang)|a thousand other ways to spew your bile across people you've never met; [w:user profile|updating your profile; [w:breakfast|breakfast; [w:indifference|hope that someone, somewhere cares; [w:cyberstalking|Choose looking up old flames; [Vanity|desperate to believe that you don't look as bad as they do; [w:Liveblogging|live-blogging; [masturbation|first wank; [death|your last breath; [Information|data; [Celebrity|celebrities; [w:Anti-abortion movements|Choose screaming about abortion; [w:Off-color humor|rape jokes; [w:Slut-shaming|slut shaming; [w:Revenge porn|revenge porn; [misogyny|misogyny; [w:9/11 conspiracy theories|9/11 never happened, and if it did, it was the Jews; [w:Crack cocaine|an unknown dose of an unknown drug made in somebody's fucking kitchen; [Grief|losing the ones you loved; [future] Choose life." "Choose life" was ]. And we used to add things to it. So I might say, for example, choose... ] in ]. Choose ]. Choose ]. ] and ] ]. Choose an ] ] by a woman ], and stick it in the pocket of your jacket fresh from a ]. Choose ], ], ], ] and ]. Choose ]. Tell the world what you had for ] and ]. ], ]. Choose ] from your ] to ]. Human interaction reduced to nothing more than ]. Choose ten things you never knew about ] who'd had surgery. ]. Choose ], ], ], and an endless tide of depressing ]. Choose ]. Choose a zero-hour contract and a two-hour journey to work, and choose the same for your kids, only worse. And maybe tell yourself it's better that they never happened. And then sit back and smother the pain with ]. Choose unfulfilled promise and wishing you'd done it all differently. Choose never learning from your own mistakes. Choose watching history repeat itself. Choose the slow reconciliation towards what you can get rather than what you always hoped for. Settle for less and keep a brave face on it. Choose disappointment. And choose ]. And as they fall from view, a piece of you dies with them. Until you can see that one day in the future, piece by piece, they will all be gone. And there'll be nothing left of you to call alive or dead. Choose your ], Veronika. Choose life. Anyway, it amused us at the time.