This is the true story about a 6-year-old child who was sexually abused and controlled by several adult males and one female predatorial paedophiles until he reached his early teens. None of the predators were family members.
He is an only son, with one younger sister (Diseased by Motor Neuron Disease, September 2021) and two older half-sisters. The working-class family lived in the British town of Bolton, Lancashire.
As a teenager in the 1960s he experimented with alcohol and drugs, he became homeless and was involved in petty crime culminating in a short term of imprisonment. He later fathered two children with the first of many wives who all found it impossible to remain with such a damaged individual.
Between marriages, he became a street entertainer and itinerate traveller throughout Europe before meeting a lady named Charlie from Swedish Lapland. He fell deeply in love with her after she saved him from a drug overdose in the cellar of a flophouse in Athens. They travelled extensively together and trained as performance artists until they eventually became professional Circus entertainers and proprietors of a small circus company in Southport near Liverpool in the UK.
After 10 years, Charlie left him devastated when he discovered her in the arms of another man during a show tour in England. When she left he quickly reverted to his old addictions and suffered several mental breakdowns that led him down into some of the darkest holes of severe depression. In addition to the devastating loss of his only ever soulmate, the mental damage already caused by the loss of his own childhood at age 6 plus medication and alcohol soon overwhelmed him. He made his mind up to end it all by jumping into the River Mersey, in Liverpool at the age of 43. He was persuaded down from the embankment at 3 am by a dog walker and was found in a foetal position on the roadside sometime during the morning rush hour. This led him into the hands of some mental health specialists and then on to receive further professional Shamanistic life-saving healing therapy. (Thank you, Deena O'Brien).
He continued to work as a Clown in the UK right through the worst stages of his deteriorating mental condition brought on by the devastating bereavement process he was experiencing. The necessary development of what soon became a successful one-man clown show unexpectedly produced opportunities for him to perform alongside several of the UK's most popular celebrity comedy entertainers He also performed further afield, in New York, the UAE and even India a few times. His proudest achievement during that sad, yet artistically productive time, was when he was honoured to perform at a Circus where the one and only, Robin Williams was in the audience and he, the Clown had Robin Williams in fits of laughter, despite him being soaked by the Clown!
He eventually decided to abandon his work as a sad, but successful Clown in the UK and take up an offer to perform at the British Embassy in Bangkok, which is when he made his mind up to settle in the far east in the hopes of finding a new life. Inevitably, he was quickly drawn into the dark side of nightlife in Bangkok, Thailand, Phnom Penh, Cambodia and Vientiane, Lao and that lasted a couple of years until the money ran out. Despite the debauchery and hedonistic lifestyle he was leading, he still managed to work as a Clown giving free shows for needy people living in the slums of Bangkok and making a living as a part-time Lecturer at high-class International schools, 5-star Hotels, weddings and parties.
Aged 49 the Clown was honoured to be given a leading role as The Moulin Rouge Clown performing alongside Parisian dancers and celebrity singers at the only French Cabernet in China. He decided not to renew his contract when he was headhunted by an entertainment agency offering an even better contract to work for them in Singapore. That only lasted one month because the Inland Revenue decided to take most of the Clowns contract fee, so the Clown returned to giving free shows in Bangkok.
In 2005, aged 52 the Clown become the founder of a state-registered charity that focuses on supporting needy families in the slums of Bangkok and amongst the hill-tribe communities along the Thai/Burma borders. The Charity soon became a replacement for his lost love and within a few short years, he became so passionate about his work that nearly all of his past disastrous life experiences became much easier to cope with.
"One Night in Shanghai"
His mental wellbeing was also very much helped when he reached a high peak in his professional career at the Cabaret in Shanghai and even more so when his mind was finally healed one night, through experiencing a mutually exhilarating experience with an executive business lady who came from Taipei, Taiwan.
He is an only son, with one younger sister (Diseased by Motor Neuron Disease, September 2021) and two older half-sisters. The working-class family lived in the British town of Bolton, Lancashire.
As a teenager in the 1960s he experimented with alcohol and drugs, he became homeless and was involved in petty crime culminating in a short term of imprisonment. He later fathered two children with the first of many wives who all found it impossible to remain with such a damaged individual.
Between marriages, he became a street entertainer and itinerate traveller throughout Europe before meeting a lady named Charlie from Swedish Lapland. He fell deeply in love with her after she saved him from a drug overdose in the cellar of a flophouse in Athens. They travelled extensively together and trained as performance artists until they eventually became professional Circus entertainers and proprietors of a small circus company in Southport near Liverpool in the UK.
After 10 years, Charlie left him devastated when he discovered her in the arms of another man during a show tour in England. When she left he quickly reverted to his old addictions and suffered several mental breakdowns that led him down into some of the darkest holes of severe depression. In addition to the devastating loss of his only ever soulmate, the mental damage already caused by the loss of his own childhood at age 6 plus medication and alcohol soon overwhelmed him. He made his mind up to end it all by jumping into the River Mersey, in Liverpool at the age of 43. He was persuaded down from the embankment at 3 am by a dog walker and was found in a foetal position on the roadside sometime during the morning rush hour. This led him into the hands of some mental health specialists and then on to receive further professional Shamanistic life-saving healing therapy. (Thank you, Deena O'Brien).
He continued to work as a Clown in the UK right through the worst stages of his deteriorating mental condition brought on by the devastating bereavement process he was experiencing. The necessary development of what soon became a successful one-man clown show unexpectedly produced opportunities for him to perform alongside several of the UK's most popular celebrity comedy entertainers He also performed further afield, in New York, the UAE and even India a few times. His proudest achievement during that sad, yet artistically productive time, was when he was honoured to perform at a Circus where the one and only, Robin Williams was in the audience and he, the Clown had Robin Williams in fits of laughter, despite him being soaked by the Clown!
He eventually decided to abandon his work as a sad, but successful Clown in the UK and take up an offer to perform at the British Embassy in Bangkok, which is when he made his mind up to settle in the far east in the hopes of finding a new life. Inevitably, he was quickly drawn into the dark side of nightlife in Bangkok, Thailand, Phnom Penh, Cambodia and Vientiane, Lao and that lasted a couple of years until the money ran out. Despite the debauchery and hedonistic lifestyle he was leading, he still managed to work as a Clown giving free shows for needy people living in the slums of Bangkok and making a living as a part-time Lecturer at high-class International schools, 5-star Hotels, weddings and parties.
Aged 49 the Clown was honoured to be given a leading role as The Moulin Rouge Clown performing alongside Parisian dancers and celebrity singers at the only French Cabernet in China. He decided not to renew his contract when he was headhunted by an entertainment agency offering an even better contract to work for them in Singapore. That only lasted one month because the Inland Revenue decided to take most of the Clowns contract fee, so the Clown returned to giving free shows in Bangkok.
In 2005, aged 52 the Clown become the founder of a state-registered charity that focuses on supporting needy families in the slums of Bangkok and amongst the hill-tribe communities along the Thai/Burma borders. The Charity soon became a replacement for his lost love and within a few short years, he became so passionate about his work that nearly all of his past disastrous life experiences became much easier to cope with.
"One Night in Shanghai"
His mental wellbeing was also very much helped when he reached a high peak in his professional career at the Cabaret in Shanghai and even more so when his mind was finally healed one night, through experiencing a mutually exhilarating experience with an executive business lady who came from Taipei, Taiwan.
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An extract from the book, One Night in Shanghai
The early part of my passage through this life saw me gripped and held tightly while I was pushed along a road leading right down into a swirling cesspit of filth, depravity and nightmares that have stayed with me to this day. It was only after being saved from what would have been a wasted death during my third suicide attempt that I started the long hard trek up a steep path that eventually led to my own summit of contentment. I had to travel that impossibly long and dangerous path for around 40 years before I could begin my escape from that unique voyage through the darkest, underground, vermin-infested tunnels of cruelty where only the purest evil existed. Having travelled that road, it would simply be wrong of me to waste the opportunity to prove that even the most horrific damage inflicted on a child can eventually be fixed. |
Head of a Boy from Lancashire
L. S. Lowry
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So I have decided to tell my life story while I am still able to clearly remember most of the myriad character-building experiences that took me from an innocent child to an old man who is now passionate about making sure that as many children as possible can maintain their innocence at least until they reach an age where they should naturally, become adults.
My life story does contain a great deal of misery and unhappiness. But there is also a lot of joy that has been well earned through adversity. I am someone who has been married or partnered a few times and I am the father of 2 legitimate children and possibly 1 or 2 illegitimate children. I have 8 grandchildren to my knowledge and 2 great-grandchildren. I've travelled the world not as a tourist but often as a homeless itinerant worker, street musician and professional entertainer.
In my young adult life, I've been a small-time junkie, a petty criminal and jailed for a short time. Then I became a super fit Kung-Fu fighter, a motorcycle racer, an unhappily married man with a regular job and aspirations to become rich enough to own a semi-detached house, a Volvo to load up with 2.2 kids and a wife, dog and cat to take on camping holidays around France?
Those dreams were shattered in a few seconds by a near-death motorcycle crash that hospitalised me for long periods (around one whole year) and left me as a registered disabled person for several years.
Because of my disabilities following that crash, I lost my job with a Gas Company, then my house was repossessed by the Mortgage company, and my wife's job in a local factory started to go down the tubes because she couldn’t cope with the demands of caring for me and our daughter in between her shifts working at the factory.
I had been promised a large payment of compensation money from the accident insurance company, but it would maybe take 4 or 5 years to settle the amount, so while we were waiting for that to happen, we decided to relocate from the north of England to the north of Scotland where we hoped to give our first child a better start in life. I also considered it to be a better place for me to find some way of earning a living as a disabled person making crafts as my hands were not too severely affected by the injuries.
With the help of a bank loan on the strength of my compensation being paid, we successfully moved to the north of Scotland and with my leg still in a full-length cast, I attempted to start working with my hands making metal ornaments but still living from the disabled person benefits I was entitled to from the British government. Our daughter was happily enrolled in a small school and all seemed to go very well for us, at least for the first few months.
Then just before Christmas, my mother succumbed to the breast cancer that she had been diagnosed with while I was in the hospital. So we travelled back down to England for the funeral and remained there for a few weeks to help my grieving father as best we could, before returning to Scotland where I was promptly attacked by a local drunken fisherman and despite the police and courts doing a great job of punishing the drunk for attacking a disabled person on the grounds I could not understand his strong Sottish accent, we decided to relocate again. This time we moved further north to a place called the Black Isle just north of Inverness in the Highlands of Scotland.
Then soon after I received some accident, injury insurance money my wife spent most of it on trinkets, then promptly took the children 300 miles away to live with another man who was not disabled and considerably richer than I had ever been and who, against my will, became an uncaring surrogate father to our 2 children.
When that unhappy marriage ended and I was left alone and still disabled with limited mobility, I had to move into a small bedsit in the cold northern small City of Inverness, Scotland. That period was when I started drinking heavily and went back to smoking weed with the occasional little acid tab to help keep me from slitting my throat. It was also the place where I started to play Concertina music in a small bar known for its drunken fighting men, loose women and an easy place to score some dope.
I never made much money as a musician, but I did earn just enough to pay the harbour fees for 25 metre-long sea-going barge that I named “The Good Ship Phyllis” (previously named the MV Phyllis). I lived aboard the ship for several months and developed a name for myself as a wild sea fairing musical womaniser who held extremely wild parties on the Good Ship Phyllis while keeping 7 different girlfriends occupied and apart from each other for most of the time. That was the first of many more wild times to come and I’m pleased to say that no one was really harmed in the making of my embryonic development into becoming a worldly-wise madman.
Having lived aboard the ship for around 9 months, I had cause to leave Inverness for a couple of weeks. Upon my return and as I rounded the corner leading to the harbour, I saw 2 masts poking out of the water in exactly the same place as my beloved party ship had been moored! I had no choice, but to turn around very quickly and run like hell straight back to the highway out of town where I hitched a ride in the back of an Army Land Rover full of squaddies who for some reason took it upon themselves to take pity on the dishevelled, disabled music-man they had picked-up. They fed me with cigarettes and good old banter for several hours of travelling along the A9 highway from Inverness to Perth. I thanked them and went on my hitch-hiking way to Glasgow, then eventually to London before I made my way to the ferry-port of Harwich and from there I took my first trip across the sea to Den Hag in the Netherlands.
Throughout that period between the marriage breakdown and my arrival in Holland, I had struggled a lot with my leg injuries and I had become conditioned by the medical profession and drug companies to believe that I would never walk without support again unless I kept taking the tablets and paid regular visits to hospitals or became a resident in a disabled persons rehabilitation centre, where I did spend 6 weeks of my life while I was still married.
But somehow, being alone and disabled, I could only see that following the sheepherding doctor’s advice to conform to their ideas of how best to deal with a badly injured young man, would never really lead me to any kind of secure happy pastures in which to spend my life. I was convinced that I would probably soon end up in a wheelchair and become morbidly obese, then smoke myself to death before I reached the age of 40.
I unconsciously decided to self-medicate by taking as much walking exercise as I could manage with my leg braced within a metal calliper and my hands still grasping 2 walking sticks. And slowly but surely I made a steady recovery to the point where I could spend many hours every day playing music on the streets of Europe and even doing some manual labouring work that didn’t require too much walking or standing, as I still needed two walking sticks for another year or so.
So, I had started my first adventures as a world traveller not knowing that I would go on to live through many more of the most powerful character-building experiences that many people have told me since they never even imagined possible. And along the arduous paths I chose to travel, I have loved and lost probably more than most, more secure individuals who I have encountered along the way.
Throughout all my travels in so many parts of this planet, we call earth, there has only ever been one person I truly loved, apart from my children, who to this day don’t believe I ever loved them at all...
My only true love is called Charlotte, and she came from Lapland. She has been the most important person ever to enter my damaged life in a positive and wholesome way and she is the one who unwittingly saved my life while I was in the darkest place imaginable during my early 30s.
Probably because of the abuse I suffered as a child, I have never been able to hold down a long term loving relationship with anyone, but Charlie and I were extremely close and totally, nay, passionately in love with each other for at least 8 or 9 years. Then I became controlling and possessive and angry, but never violent towards her.
So eventually I found her in the arms of another young man, and she blurted out that she had stopped loving me and our time together was over there and then.
Apart from all the years of being abused, raped and humiliated by power-crazed sick old and sometimes younger perverted men, I had never felt so devastated as I did when Charlie left me.
There are no words to describe my feeling of absolute bereavement at the loss of this great love in my screwed up life and it wasn’t until I had some expert therapy that I realised how much I had damaged Charlie during our time together. That realisation came a second mind-blowingly character-building experience for me to endure and live with.
I still sometimes wonder how I managed to survive the many years after Charlie without actually killing myself, although I did try a few times. And now, of course, I am so incredibly pleased to say that I did survive all that I’ve just described, plus an awful lot more that is slowly becoming detailed in the book.
Not only did I survive, but as I write this, in late 2020, I have spent quite a few more years than I did with Charlie, being happily single and passionately involved in spending the remaining years of my life making others as happy as I can. I do this by using some of the skills I have acquired during my 40+ year period of being one of the worlds many itinerant Buffoons. I must say that I have also earned a much better living being a fool than I could ever hope to have made as the manager of the gas company I worked for before my disabling crash in 1979.
So, I hope it is worth reading through all the confused misery and mayhem of a life destroyed. Then see the great joy of how a totally reconstructed life eventually led me to become a passionate advocate for giving pure simple joy to those whose lives are often even more blighted than mine has been.
My life story does contain a great deal of misery and unhappiness. But there is also a lot of joy that has been well earned through adversity. I am someone who has been married or partnered a few times and I am the father of 2 legitimate children and possibly 1 or 2 illegitimate children. I have 8 grandchildren to my knowledge and 2 great-grandchildren. I've travelled the world not as a tourist but often as a homeless itinerant worker, street musician and professional entertainer.
In my young adult life, I've been a small-time junkie, a petty criminal and jailed for a short time. Then I became a super fit Kung-Fu fighter, a motorcycle racer, an unhappily married man with a regular job and aspirations to become rich enough to own a semi-detached house, a Volvo to load up with 2.2 kids and a wife, dog and cat to take on camping holidays around France?
Those dreams were shattered in a few seconds by a near-death motorcycle crash that hospitalised me for long periods (around one whole year) and left me as a registered disabled person for several years.
Because of my disabilities following that crash, I lost my job with a Gas Company, then my house was repossessed by the Mortgage company, and my wife's job in a local factory started to go down the tubes because she couldn’t cope with the demands of caring for me and our daughter in between her shifts working at the factory.
I had been promised a large payment of compensation money from the accident insurance company, but it would maybe take 4 or 5 years to settle the amount, so while we were waiting for that to happen, we decided to relocate from the north of England to the north of Scotland where we hoped to give our first child a better start in life. I also considered it to be a better place for me to find some way of earning a living as a disabled person making crafts as my hands were not too severely affected by the injuries.
With the help of a bank loan on the strength of my compensation being paid, we successfully moved to the north of Scotland and with my leg still in a full-length cast, I attempted to start working with my hands making metal ornaments but still living from the disabled person benefits I was entitled to from the British government. Our daughter was happily enrolled in a small school and all seemed to go very well for us, at least for the first few months.
Then just before Christmas, my mother succumbed to the breast cancer that she had been diagnosed with while I was in the hospital. So we travelled back down to England for the funeral and remained there for a few weeks to help my grieving father as best we could, before returning to Scotland where I was promptly attacked by a local drunken fisherman and despite the police and courts doing a great job of punishing the drunk for attacking a disabled person on the grounds I could not understand his strong Sottish accent, we decided to relocate again. This time we moved further north to a place called the Black Isle just north of Inverness in the Highlands of Scotland.
Then soon after I received some accident, injury insurance money my wife spent most of it on trinkets, then promptly took the children 300 miles away to live with another man who was not disabled and considerably richer than I had ever been and who, against my will, became an uncaring surrogate father to our 2 children.
When that unhappy marriage ended and I was left alone and still disabled with limited mobility, I had to move into a small bedsit in the cold northern small City of Inverness, Scotland. That period was when I started drinking heavily and went back to smoking weed with the occasional little acid tab to help keep me from slitting my throat. It was also the place where I started to play Concertina music in a small bar known for its drunken fighting men, loose women and an easy place to score some dope.
I never made much money as a musician, but I did earn just enough to pay the harbour fees for 25 metre-long sea-going barge that I named “The Good Ship Phyllis” (previously named the MV Phyllis). I lived aboard the ship for several months and developed a name for myself as a wild sea fairing musical womaniser who held extremely wild parties on the Good Ship Phyllis while keeping 7 different girlfriends occupied and apart from each other for most of the time. That was the first of many more wild times to come and I’m pleased to say that no one was really harmed in the making of my embryonic development into becoming a worldly-wise madman.
Having lived aboard the ship for around 9 months, I had cause to leave Inverness for a couple of weeks. Upon my return and as I rounded the corner leading to the harbour, I saw 2 masts poking out of the water in exactly the same place as my beloved party ship had been moored! I had no choice, but to turn around very quickly and run like hell straight back to the highway out of town where I hitched a ride in the back of an Army Land Rover full of squaddies who for some reason took it upon themselves to take pity on the dishevelled, disabled music-man they had picked-up. They fed me with cigarettes and good old banter for several hours of travelling along the A9 highway from Inverness to Perth. I thanked them and went on my hitch-hiking way to Glasgow, then eventually to London before I made my way to the ferry-port of Harwich and from there I took my first trip across the sea to Den Hag in the Netherlands.
Throughout that period between the marriage breakdown and my arrival in Holland, I had struggled a lot with my leg injuries and I had become conditioned by the medical profession and drug companies to believe that I would never walk without support again unless I kept taking the tablets and paid regular visits to hospitals or became a resident in a disabled persons rehabilitation centre, where I did spend 6 weeks of my life while I was still married.
But somehow, being alone and disabled, I could only see that following the sheepherding doctor’s advice to conform to their ideas of how best to deal with a badly injured young man, would never really lead me to any kind of secure happy pastures in which to spend my life. I was convinced that I would probably soon end up in a wheelchair and become morbidly obese, then smoke myself to death before I reached the age of 40.
I unconsciously decided to self-medicate by taking as much walking exercise as I could manage with my leg braced within a metal calliper and my hands still grasping 2 walking sticks. And slowly but surely I made a steady recovery to the point where I could spend many hours every day playing music on the streets of Europe and even doing some manual labouring work that didn’t require too much walking or standing, as I still needed two walking sticks for another year or so.
So, I had started my first adventures as a world traveller not knowing that I would go on to live through many more of the most powerful character-building experiences that many people have told me since they never even imagined possible. And along the arduous paths I chose to travel, I have loved and lost probably more than most, more secure individuals who I have encountered along the way.
Throughout all my travels in so many parts of this planet, we call earth, there has only ever been one person I truly loved, apart from my children, who to this day don’t believe I ever loved them at all...
My only true love is called Charlotte, and she came from Lapland. She has been the most important person ever to enter my damaged life in a positive and wholesome way and she is the one who unwittingly saved my life while I was in the darkest place imaginable during my early 30s.
Probably because of the abuse I suffered as a child, I have never been able to hold down a long term loving relationship with anyone, but Charlie and I were extremely close and totally, nay, passionately in love with each other for at least 8 or 9 years. Then I became controlling and possessive and angry, but never violent towards her.
So eventually I found her in the arms of another young man, and she blurted out that she had stopped loving me and our time together was over there and then.
Apart from all the years of being abused, raped and humiliated by power-crazed sick old and sometimes younger perverted men, I had never felt so devastated as I did when Charlie left me.
There are no words to describe my feeling of absolute bereavement at the loss of this great love in my screwed up life and it wasn’t until I had some expert therapy that I realised how much I had damaged Charlie during our time together. That realisation came a second mind-blowingly character-building experience for me to endure and live with.
I still sometimes wonder how I managed to survive the many years after Charlie without actually killing myself, although I did try a few times. And now, of course, I am so incredibly pleased to say that I did survive all that I’ve just described, plus an awful lot more that is slowly becoming detailed in the book.
Not only did I survive, but as I write this, in late 2020, I have spent quite a few more years than I did with Charlie, being happily single and passionately involved in spending the remaining years of my life making others as happy as I can. I do this by using some of the skills I have acquired during my 40+ year period of being one of the worlds many itinerant Buffoons. I must say that I have also earned a much better living being a fool than I could ever hope to have made as the manager of the gas company I worked for before my disabling crash in 1979.
So, I hope it is worth reading through all the confused misery and mayhem of a life destroyed. Then see the great joy of how a totally reconstructed life eventually led me to become a passionate advocate for giving pure simple joy to those whose lives are often even more blighted than mine has been.
The book will be published around mid 2022.
Meanwhile, I will try to update the blog page on this site with a few more snippets from the book. Please comment so I can gauge how may people are following my blogs?
Pre-Launch enquiries; CONTACT