Hits and Memories: Chopper 2 by Mark Brandon "Chopper" Read
Authors: Mark Brandon "Chopper" Read
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each other since the beginning of time. Some say that good always wins but evil is not truly beaten. Does one side need the other. Does one man need the other? I sometime wonder myself.
If bastards and bad men are so hated, why do good men love to read about them?
People love to watch movies about bad guys. They are fascinated by the other side. Is it a mirror of themselves? This is certainly heavy thinking. I must stop it before I get a headache.
We are all in search of the Holy Grail, the ultimate truth, the meaning of life. If God came down to earth and we all sat at his feet and asked. ‘Lord, tell us the answer.’ he would say, ‘Piss off, I’m trying to find where I came from.’
So why bother searching. Don’t worry, be happy. It is a good story, so read it, and don’t worry about what makes the author tick.
After all I don’t know. Why should you?
*
I KNOW I am hated in the criminal world, and seen by many criminals as some kind of psychotic monster, a freak.
I have never been accepted as a member of the mainstream criminal culture, nor would I want to be. I have always been considered to some kind of vulture, a shark in a tank filled with guppies. A mental case psychopath who doesn’t follow their rules, but makes them up as he goes along.
I am, or was, a headhunter, and a lot of what they say is true. But to the criminal world, that is what I will always remain. I am rejected by them through fear and that is the way I want it.
But the straight world is filled with square heads who are frightened of me. They have no idea how to talk to me and few, if any of them, have any idea how to approach me or treat me. And few, if any, relish the idea of mixing with me socially. So I am an outcast from both worlds. I am not welcome on either side of the fence. I am left in limbo, a creature from neither world. I am neither wanted nor trusted.
I have friends in the criminal world and friends who are honest, but most of the people who have stuck with me are social outcasts like myself.
It is little wonder that even though I have given crime away, I always have to be on guard. I am ill at ease, and can never really relax. I guess that is my lot in life. I am my own creation, and now I have to wear it.
It is difficult to live, knowing that most people see you as a freak, but that is the way it is.
One thing I want to make very clear, as a criminal I am in a class that is no threat whatsoever to Mr and Mrs Average. The normal honest person has nothing to fear from me. Chopper Read won’t break into your home, he won’t pinch your TV, video or purse. He won’t rape your daughter, wife, sister or granny. He won’t pinch your car, rob your bank, milk bar or bottle shop.
No, I am not in an area of crime which would personally touch the lives of the ordinary individual. I am not even in an area of crime that will touch the ordinary criminal. I am, or was, in a league alone, working is a specialized area of crime that the ordinary type of criminal only comes into contact with in his worst nightmares. I must say that I no longer even enter that world. I am out of it, and no longer a threat to anybody.
Admittedly, I am still a violent person — but only if pushed. And the normal straight person will not push me, so where is the threat?
I was the rattle snake that ate the spiders and left the wood ducks and rabbits alone.
In Australia I am seen as a bloody monster but in Northern Ireland they have been doing it for years.
*
I AM aware that a great many people have a love-hate relationship when my name is mentioned. Some love me, bless their twisted hearts, and a great many more hate me.
But the fact remains, that in the criminal history of Australia, 100 years from now, three names will stand out as unique characters: Ned Kelly, Squizzy Taylor, and that mad bastard with no ears. Chopper Read.
When Mark Brandon Read is dead he will still be the topic of bar room conversation long alter the names of his
If bastards and bad men are so hated, why do good men love to read about them?
People love to watch movies about bad guys. They are fascinated by the other side. Is it a mirror of themselves? This is certainly heavy thinking. I must stop it before I get a headache.
We are all in search of the Holy Grail, the ultimate truth, the meaning of life. If God came down to earth and we all sat at his feet and asked. ‘Lord, tell us the answer.’ he would say, ‘Piss off, I’m trying to find where I came from.’
So why bother searching. Don’t worry, be happy. It is a good story, so read it, and don’t worry about what makes the author tick.
After all I don’t know. Why should you?
*
I KNOW I am hated in the criminal world, and seen by many criminals as some kind of psychotic monster, a freak.
I have never been accepted as a member of the mainstream criminal culture, nor would I want to be. I have always been considered to some kind of vulture, a shark in a tank filled with guppies. A mental case psychopath who doesn’t follow their rules, but makes them up as he goes along.
I am, or was, a headhunter, and a lot of what they say is true. But to the criminal world, that is what I will always remain. I am rejected by them through fear and that is the way I want it.
But the straight world is filled with square heads who are frightened of me. They have no idea how to talk to me and few, if any of them, have any idea how to approach me or treat me. And few, if any, relish the idea of mixing with me socially. So I am an outcast from both worlds. I am not welcome on either side of the fence. I am left in limbo, a creature from neither world. I am neither wanted nor trusted.
I have friends in the criminal world and friends who are honest, but most of the people who have stuck with me are social outcasts like myself.
It is little wonder that even though I have given crime away, I always have to be on guard. I am ill at ease, and can never really relax. I guess that is my lot in life. I am my own creation, and now I have to wear it.
It is difficult to live, knowing that most people see you as a freak, but that is the way it is.
One thing I want to make very clear, as a criminal I am in a class that is no threat whatsoever to Mr and Mrs Average. The normal honest person has nothing to fear from me. Chopper Read won’t break into your home, he won’t pinch your TV, video or purse. He won’t rape your daughter, wife, sister or granny. He won’t pinch your car, rob your bank, milk bar or bottle shop.
No, I am not in an area of crime which would personally touch the lives of the ordinary individual. I am not even in an area of crime that will touch the ordinary criminal. I am, or was, in a league alone, working is a specialized area of crime that the ordinary type of criminal only comes into contact with in his worst nightmares. I must say that I no longer even enter that world. I am out of it, and no longer a threat to anybody.
Admittedly, I am still a violent person — but only if pushed. And the normal straight person will not push me, so where is the threat?
I was the rattle snake that ate the spiders and left the wood ducks and rabbits alone.
In Australia I am seen as a bloody monster but in Northern Ireland they have been doing it for years.
*
I AM aware that a great many people have a love-hate relationship when my name is mentioned. Some love me, bless their twisted hearts, and a great many more hate me.
But the fact remains, that in the criminal history of Australia, 100 years from now, three names will stand out as unique characters: Ned Kelly, Squizzy Taylor, and that mad bastard with no ears. Chopper Read.
When Mark Brandon Read is dead he will still be the topic of bar room conversation long alter the names of his
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