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were carefree days. There was still violence in the home but I loved Mornington. The seaside was wonderful. When I settle down for good I’d love to live by the seaside.
    One of the few things about my childhood that was completely normal was that, like most kids, I had a dog, which I loved. One day there was a blow-up at home. Dad walked out, and naturally I followed. When things were patched up Cindy was nowhere to be found. She had been put to sleep. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.
    I was put into Melbourne mental hospitals a few times when I was about 15, but my Dad got me out. I was put into assorted mental institutions up until I was 19, but Dad kept getting me out. I was given several treatments of deep-sleep therapy. My Mother thought I was dyslexic and autistic. The fact was all I was really guilty of was leaving the Seventh Day Adventist Church.
    I was treated for all manner of mental disorders. Some in my family were convinced that my rejecting the Seventh Day Adventist Church showed that I had a severe mental disorder and that it had to be treated. Of course my treatment back in the mental hospitals in those days was not kind.
    I was sent to a mental hospital in the south eastern suburbs of Melbourne where I underwent deep-sleep therapy. I was completely off my head when I got out of one of the mental hospitals. I was put in assorted institutions four times as a teenager.
    It took about ten years for me to get over the so-called treatments I got. I was completely psychopathic when I got out of there once. They put me on all sorts of weird and wonderful drugs and shock treatment. With the shock treatment they put the big bit in your mouth and hold you down and give you a big charge of the soup. I used to have a saying, ‘EST won’t get me’.
    It was terrifying as a teenager to be placed in a ward with grown men strapped to their beds. The noise was unbelievable.
    I know it’s popular these days to talk about all the abuse you got as a child. Personally I’d rather keep the worst parts to myself. That’s my business. But some of it would make strong men vomit, if I told all. I’ll leave it at that. I suppose it could have been worse. Mum could have taken me on a day trip to Ayers Rock. Ha ha.
    My childhood and schooldays were nothing to talk about, except that all I ever learnt as a child and teenager was violence and hatred for would-be tough guys.
    In my schooldays in the 1960s I was the victim of schoolyard bullies five days a week. There were fights in the schoolyard day in, day out, and Adventists tend to get picked on. I must have been the most punished kid at any school I went to. Six of the best on each hand.
    I grew up to hate bullies. I guess that’s why I take such delight in belting the hell out of the so-called ‘tough guys’. I’m violent, but I’m not a bully. Everyone I’ve ever moved against has been a bully boy, a two-bob tough guy. Most of the truly violent men I’ve known in my life have been the victims of school bullies and violence in the home.
    I took a twisted pride in the fact I was the most strapped kid at school. I remember once I was kicked so bad in the head by bullies at Lalor High School that my parents didn’t recognise me at first when I got home. But I always came back for more. Every time I got knocked down, I got up — for more, and more, and more, again and again.
    As I said, through the 60s I ran away from home six times. One adventure was going into the city on the train when I was a 10-year-old to see the Beatles. I never did get to see the Beatles, but I had a great time getting lost in the crowds.
    Another time I ran off to see LBJ, the American president, with other kids in front of the town hall. After kicking my way through the crowd to try to shake hands with him, I got to see the paint splashed over one of the cars. It was a great adventure.
    I used to love to go in and watch the anti-war marches. The other kids and me would stand on the