ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
Insanity - My Mad Life. Charles Bronson
Читать онлайн.Название Insanity - My Mad Life
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781782192527
Автор произведения Charles Bronson
Жанр Биографии и Мемуары
Издательство Ingram
Let me tell you about true madness! You start to feel untouchable, your power is awesome! The strength of ten men, you’re invincible … so you think!
They run away from you. Watch them run. Shout. You’re the fear in their eyes! Then you’re left alone, in the silence of madness. The war with yourself begins. The siege of insanity — you can’t win. You never could. You’re just digging your hole, and the crazy thing is, you’re helpless and nothing can stop it. Paranoia sets in, psychosis takes over; fear is non-existent, only death lingers, sanity is no more. Welcome to madness.
Shall I tell you the one sure thing that can and does help control insanity? Love. I’m not saying it cures it, but it helps to humanise it. A cuddle, a touch of kindness, the human touch, a whisper, a long friendship — it helps.
Take my mum. I’d not even swear in front of her — doesn’t that prove my point? If I was depressed and feeling dangerous and my door opened and my mum walked in, I would be cured. When she left, I would be dangerous again.
In my view, prisons and asylums are the insanity. They push and squeeze a man empty. Dry him of all feelings. Destroy the love and fill you with hate. Don’t just believe my words. The proof is behind every door of broken dreams … I rest my case!
I’m often asked, who’s the most dangerous man I’ve ever met in the asylums? Well, I’ll tell you … the psychiatrists; they’re lethal! They can kill us legally, pump us with psychotropic drugs, destroy us, make us dribble at the mouth and make us fall to our knees and make us cry in pain — yeah, they’re evil! The only humane one I’ve ever met has been Dr Ghosh, she’s lovely. I’d let her share a tin of pineapples with me any time; she is a wonderful human being with feelings and kindness. Like most Asians, Dr Ghosh is very sincere and warm-natured.
Insanity is in your blood, in your heart and in your being right up ’til the angels come to kidnap you.
Take a prison cell. They lock a man up in it 23 hours out of a 24-hour day, month after month, year after year — four walls, a door and just emptiness. No pets, no colour and no stimulation. After so long, the man becomes grey in colour. The skin turns grey with the lack of air; he looks old and haggard, no sparkle in his eyes, just black holes. He talks to himself; he laughs, he forgets and he cries … he becomes depressed. He’s alone, he curls up in the foetal position, sucking his thumb; he goes to sleep with a smile and wakes with a smile. The madness sets in. They drove him mad — he loses touch with reality.
The world has passed him by; he survives from one meal to the next, as tomorrow they may throw it on him or piss on it or maybe they won’t give him any at all. He complains, but who listens? ‘Yes, sir, we gave it to him but he refused it.’ Or, ‘Yes, sir, we gave it to him but he slung it all over us.’ They lie; they are determined to drive him mad. Why? Because he’s dangerous. He could attack, even kill; they fear him so they have to keep control. They may even kill him and say he’s done it himself.
I’ll tell you what’s insane — Graham Young, Britain’s number one poisoner. He was just 14 years old when he was sent to Broadmoor for attempting to wipe out his family. He managed to kill two of them. So while in Broadmoor, what did they let him do? Guess! You never will. They gave him a job as tea boy and, yes, he was in his element … several of the staff started feeling sick. He was at it again. That’s insane — only a madman would give a poisoner a job as tea boy.
Graham spent years in the asylum, then, after his release, he got a job in a factory and out came the poison again. This time he killed a workmate. He was lifed off, and later died in Parkhurst. I met the guy. I felt sad for him; he was a sick man, a dangerous fucker, but mentally sick. He was also a great chess player.
Another notorious lunatic was Nobby Clarke, a dear friend of mine. Nobby was an old war hero. After the war he could not get out of the violence so he killed a guy and got life. Whilst serving his life, he stabbed a Greek guy in the bathhouse in Parkhurst, and was sent to Broadmoor. Nobby was having none of that, and was later charged with murdering a lunatic, but he was acquitted and was sent back to Parkhurst. Nobby was a great character, a true madman at heart. I loved Nobby. Pure danger. They found him dead in his bed in the hospital wing with the book The Godfather on his chest. Nobby once told me, ‘Don’t fight the system unless you’re prepared to die.’ He fought the system all the way like a true madman should … respect!
The mind of a madman is quite unique, complicated, erratic and even amazing. That’s why I put my brain up for auction! The winning bidder was Andy Jones of the Crime Through Time museum, in Newent, Gloucestershire. Andy bid £2,000, and do you know why I want him to have it? Because Ronnie Kray’s brain was stolen out of his head — after he died, of course, although some might say it was stolen years before he died. It took six months for the authorities to hand it back and, even then, how do we know it was his brain?
No, I don’t want some Home Office pathologist sitting with a stick prodding my brain after I’m gone; mark that down as my legal request. Andy Jones gets my brain unless I say (in writing) otherwise!
Many geniuses were insane; it’s a thin borderline. Hitler almost ruled the world; some say he was insane. Doesn’t that prove my point? Madmen like Hitler are dangerous; it’s their unpredictability. It’s the despair that pushes a man over the edge, and then he becomes a madman — pain, mental agony, the wanting and waiting to be free.
To smell a flower, to see the sky, to lie on the grass, to have some woman’s touch, to love, to possess things, to smile, to live normally, a madman forgets all this, he always sees blackness. Sure enough, in his subconscious mind he sees rainbows, but the madness gives off a cloud of hopelessness. Nobody trusts him, yet is he a threat to humanity?
I’ve met all the best loons; the ones who just flip and kill five or six or ten people amaze me. Michael Ryan — responsible for the Hungerford Massacre — his classic words before he shot his own brains out were, ‘I wish I had stayed in bed.’ He wasted 14 innocent people including his mum, and he wished he had stayed in bed. Doesn’t it amaze you?
Why did he do it? How? What reason? I’ll tell you — insanity. It’s in us all. A small problem can trigger it off, and then you are capable of the most evil acts. Thankfully, most of us never lose a grip on reality, but for those who do — believe me, it’s a dream.
From the psychotic who cut his mum’s head off to the schizoid who shot a man walking a dog, thinking he was the devil, they’re both insane.
Senility — isn’t that a form of insanity? And we all face it if we live long enough. You’re gonna get to the stage where you forget if you had a shit, then it’s too late … your pants are full up! You babble like a baby, you forget your own name — that’s insanity and it’s gonna happen; your brain seizes up and you become a cabbage.
Insanity — most run from it, as they fear it. What about epilepsy. If you see a man in a fit, what do you do? He’s frothing at the mouth, rolling about on the floor, his face is turning blue and he pisses himself. You’d probably walk by ’cos you’re afraid he’s a druggy or an alcoholic. You might think he’s a rabid madman, but he is neither. Epilepsy is not insanity, but to you it looks mad; if it’s not the norm, then it’s dangerous to you. You fear what you don’t know. Nobody is blaming you; it’s only a natural reaction to walk away. It may be contagious, that’s your immediate fear.
Some mad people will smash their skulls against a wall, so because of that, after being sedated, they’re put in a restraint and placed in a padded room. Why do they smash their heads off the wall. Probably because they want to smash your head against the wall instead, but they can’t get to you so they do it to their own head. Have you thought it could be to take away their mental pain? By smashing their head it becomes a physical pain, which in turn acts as a distraction and helps take away the mental pain. That’s my theory.
Pain is a lot to do with madness, as it’s an inward pain, like a guilt-ridden