Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: (narrating) 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 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 spawned to replace yourself. 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?