I’m not going to tell you to go to school. You don’t need qualifications to sit in front of the TV and eat ready meals.
I’m not going to tell you to stay out of the gangs, fuck knows if you want to live past twenty you’ve got to hook up with someone.
I’m not going to sell you some bullshit about joining SLA and hitting the big time, if you had prospects you’d already have been picked out from a crèche.
I’m not going to say you should keep off the drugs, fucking things might be all that keeps you from killing yourself down here, might even keep you out of trouble. Better to be indoors tripping your tits off than outdoors cutting someone else’s tits off.
I’ll give you a break this once. Put the jelly beans back on the counter and set down that CAF-gun piece of shit and me and my partner here won’t break every bone in your body in alphabetical order and feed you to the Carrien.
My advice? Go home. Sit your arse down in front of Captain Contract and think how fucking lucky you are that I hate paperwork.