Irvine Welsh

"Thats all very well as an abstract moral principle, Avril, a coffee-table theoretical construct, but theres no denying the sheer gratuitous pleasure to be derived from seeing members of the ruling class in pain and torment."

"Ah hate cunts like that. Cunts like Begbie. Cunts that are intae basebaw-batting every fucker thats different; pakis, poofs, n what huv ye. Fuckin failures in a country ay failures. Its nae good blamin it oan the English fir colonising us. Ah dont hate the English. Theyre just wankers. We are colonised by wankers. We cant even pick a decent, vibrant, healthy culture to be colonised by. No. Were ruled by effete arseholes. What does that make us? The lowest of the fuckin low, thas what, the scum of the earth. The most wretched, servile, miserable, pathetic trash that was ever shat intae creation. Ah dont hate the English. They just git oan wi the shite thuv goat. Ah hate the Scots."

"Sometimes ah think that people become junkies just because they subconsiously crave a wee bit ay silence."

"The rhetorical question, the stock-in-trade weapon ay burds and psychos."

"Ah wonder if anybody this side of the Atlantic has ever bought a baseball bat with playing baseball in mind."

"The only people that ever made a difference to Billy were the Provos, and they were cunts as well. Ahve no illusions aboot them as freedom fighters. The bastards made ma brar intae a pile ay cat food. But they jist pulled the switch. His death was concieved of by these Orange cunts, comin through every July with thir sashes and flutes, fillin Billys stupid head with nonsense aboot crown and country and aw that garbage. Theyll go home chuffed fae the day. They kin tell aw thir mates aboot how one ay the family died, murdered by the IRA, while defending Ulster. Itll fuel thir pointless anger, get them bought drinks in pubs, and help establish their doss-bastard credibility wi other sectarian arseholes."

"How many shots does it take before the concept ay choice becomes obsolete?"

"We are all acquaintances now". It goes beyond our personal junk circumstances; a brilliant metaphor for our times."

"Ah thought that every cunt over twenty was a toss an no worth speakin tae, until ah hit twenty. The mair ah see, the mair ah think ah wis right. After that its aw ugly compromise, aw timid surrender, progressively until death."

"Rents once sais, thirs nothin like a darker skin tone tae increase the vigilance ay the police n the magistrates: too right."

"Ah cannae feel any remorse, only anger and contempt. Ah seethed when ah saw that fuckin Union Jack oan his coffin, and that smarmy, wimpy cunt ay an officer, obviously oot ay his fuckin depth here, tryin to talk tae my Ma. Worse still, these Glasgow cunts, the auld boys side, are here through en masse. Theyre fill ay shite aboot how Billy died in service ay his country n all that servile Hun crap. Billy wis a daft cunt, pure and simple. No a hero, no a martyr, just a daft cunt."

"Once youve been with each other in a primal, shagging state, its hard to talk about the weather."