"My History"

My early days were spent in the northern Melbourne suburbs of Thomastown, Preston and Collingwood. I was never the toughest kid at school, often being bullied and bashed, but this only strengthened my resolve. From being stood over, to becoming the standover man, my my, what a change. Evolution I suppose.

As a little tacker I was given repeated shock and drug therapies to correct a learning difficulty. Did this tame a monster or create a monster? Neither because I am not a monster. Killed 19, hurt many, caused much property damage - I have never hurt any innocent characters. This should be remembered.

My apprenticeship in crime began in the 1970s. This had me robbing massage parlours and taking on contracts to maim and kill rivals. Once I had obtained a doctorate as a "standover man", robbing drug dealers and other criminals, who funnily enough couldn't report me to the police, became childs play. I once told a friend "why rob a straight guy of $20 when you can rob a drug dealer of $10,000 and he can't go running to the police?" After all both involved some work on my behalf, but the man in the street was less likely to give up his $20 as he had to work hard for it. For the drug-dealers it came easy, so why would they put up a fight. Although some of my victims chose to chew razor blades (at their own request of course), before they would hand over cash? And I am the psychopath!

I've had my fair share of incidents and on several occassions I have nearly met our maker. I've been stabbed, shot, run over, and was once digging my own grave before I used the shovel as a meat cleaver. Let's just say that somone is in that grave and their skeleton is rotting under many autumns of falling leaves somewhere on a Victorian mountain - it ain't me.

People often ask me is the scene from the Chopper movie, where I get stabbed 7 times, true. Of course it is, anybody knows that, or is that anybody that has been stabbed 7 times, Ha Ha. Yes, I did get stabbed seven times and that stabbing scene was very true because you don't feel the wound right away. You could probably liken it to winning Tattslotto - you've got the winning ticket right there in front of you, but although it has happened you wouldn't believe it. Meanwhile, someone like me might come in and steal the ticket. This is not true, I would not condone such a hainus crime. Anyway, in relation to my stabbing, I tried my utmost to be polite and complimented the offender for his sneaky approach.

Chopper, the movie, is 100% lies and 100% truth rolled together to make 100% of nothing. Despite the movie apparently portraying my life and being a box office hit - the first ever adults only movie to go number 1 at the box office - I didn't get anything out of the movie, not even a ticket to its premiere or a ticket to the AFI (Australian Film Industry) awards. I signed all my money from the movie, over to the Royal Childrens Hospital in Melbourne - instead of taking lives I am now saving them, yet even it has not formally acknowledged my donation. Also it greatly annoyed me that I was portrayed as a woman basher and that my new wife, Margaret, did not even rate a mention in the movie. However, the movie has resulted in two of my books being published in Britain and I have been gratiously informed that U2's Bono played the film to bring on his wife's labour - just fantastic isn't it. But.....does this make me a co-parent?

As I said, the movie turned me into a world wide figure, as confirmed by an article written by Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times in July 2001:

Is everyone in Australia a few degrees off from true north? You can search in vain through the national cinema for characters who are ordinary or even boring; everyone is more colorful than life. If England is a nation of eccentrics, Australia leaves it at the starting line. Chopper Read is the latest in a distinguished line that includes Ned Kelly, Mad Max, and Russell Crowe's Hando in "Romper Stomper." The fact that Chopper is real only underlines the point.

A few degrees off north, well Australia is bloody miles of north actually, if truth be quoted. I think he is simply upset about Australia II's victory in the 1983 America's Cup. America's Cup, America's Cup, the Australians said excuse us for just a minute, that would look very nice on our trophy cabinet...Yes, yes it would, that you very much.....we think we will take that.

I have been convicted of armed robberies, a shooting, assault and kidnapping a judge. Between the ages of 20 and 38, I had a measily 13 months on the outside. This was my equivalent to the annual leave that most people get through work.

As reported, I do have a phenomenal ability to withstand pain, often to my detriment. This ability, combined with my desire to get a transfer from Pentridge, convinced me to get a fellow inmate to slice off my ears with a razorblade - just insane stuff really. Little did I know that this would later result in another of life's little ironies. A few years ago I was recruited by some character from Black Flys sunglasses to help promote their products here in Australia. Great, how was I meant to keep the bloody things on?

Pentridge always had its lighter moments and there are numerous stories. In prison I made others chew razor blades while I ate their food and it has been alleged that I use to blowtorch feet so that they smelled like a cross between burnt hair and roast pork. What a fancyful story, by the way have you seen the cover of my book Chopper 10 1/2, The Popcorn Gangster.

In five years at Pentridge, I was alleged , to have attacked 63 men and tried to kill 11. Who invents these numbers, 6311 is my ATM P.I.N number. Their is another story that I would like to set straight. When I had my stomach slit by convicted murderer, Greg "Bluey" Brazel during a prison brawl in 1979. The next day I burst my stiches doing push ups to get fit enough for a revenge attack on Brazel. To this day I cannot believe that I did all those push-ups, the stomach didn't hurt, but the arms ached like hell.

With nothing much to do in Pentridge, aside from hurt someone here or there, it was the place where I learned to read and write. Little did I know, that spending some times learning these artful crafts, would inevitably keep me alive in the long run.

Tip - A little trick I have learned and am willing to pass on to you, comes from when I was freed from jail in 1986. Being a bit short of cash and with jobs hard to come by, I began demanding money from fellow criminals. And the unusual part is I here you asking? ....I use to strap a stick of gelignite to my chest and threaten to blow us both up if they didn't pay up. I can't believe I ever had the audicity. I also can't believe that it always worked.

In terms of a crime that brought me to the public attention, the 1987 shooting of the drug dealer, Siam "Sammy the Turk" Ozerkam, outside Bojangles Nightclub in St Kilda, Melbourne, is an out and out winner. It was as big a hit as the movie about me, which would come out 13 years later. As I've said in my books, it was quite a simple series of events "....I've pulled the shotty out and gone bang and it's bye, bye Turk." It was far from a case of cold-blooded murder, instead it was an act of instinctive self-defence.

It was when I was in jail in 1990, that I made my first steps towards being an author. It all began when I wrote a note to journalist Mr John Silvester after he wrote a derogatory article about me in Melbourne's "The Age" newspaper. In short my note wished him a merry Christmas and it expressed my hope that his house would burn down. That reminds me of a little story about Nick "The Greek" Apostolidis, but you'll have to read my books for that one - but I digress. I wrote around 300 letters in eight months to Mr Silvester, then he and his colleague Andrew Rule edited these letters to create my first book. They hoped it would sell 5000 copies, possible 10,000 and they told me that if things went well, I might end up with a used car. A used car...I'm sure I could park that in the cell with me. Regardless of their "big" plans, my first book has run to more than 120,000 copies, but these cheeky scallywags have yet to give me that used car. Maybe its time to come good on my promise to Mr Silvester...John, your thoughts?

In 1992, the former president of the Victorian Outlaws Sid Collins, was shot in the stomach with a 9mm bullet at point-blank range. To my shock he had the audacity to claim that I had pulled the trigger. Please why would I do such a thing, an unspeakable act. As my lawyer so vehmently claimed, Sid obviously framed me because the real gunman was a fellow motorcycle gang member. Anyway as a result I was sent to jail again. The story of my life. Why is it that for someone with such a reputation both in and out of the underworld, I was so unsuccessful at staying out of jail. Unfortunately, Sid has now been murdered. Of course I was questioned by some big time New South Wales policeman. This is quite bizarre, as I clearly was not in the area at the time of the alleged crime, but these policeman came down at the same time as Melbourne's Spring Racing Carnival. Their questions where quite basic, elementary really....so why question me? Anyway I wonder if they know who won Race 5 on Cup Day. A quite opportune time for them, possibly?

In 1995 after a year-long engagement, I married Mary-Ann Hodge whilst in Risdon. Mary-Ann is an attractive and educated woman employed with the Australian Taxation Office. She read one of my books and shortly after came to visit me in Risdon. At that stage I was being held in maximum security indefinitely after I was deemed to be a dangerous criminal. In 1998 my dangerous criminal tag was overturned and Mary-Anne and I moved to a farmhouse at Richmond, Tasmania.

We have a child together, a boy, who we called Charlie, named after my long time and now deceased mate 'Mad' Charlie Hegyalji. Our marriage (Mary-Ann and I) went great guns for a while, but it broke up in 2001. Life in Tasmania was just too slow. I couldn't handle watching chickens and sheep running around day after day. Farming life wasn't for me, so I left with just the clothes on my back and enough money to get out of Tasmania. I returned to Melbourne and have since married Margaret Casser on 19 January 2003. I have known Margaret for 30 years. As we are still on talking terms, I feel that 30 years should be enough to guarantee a happy future. Anybody else out there that has married someone after they have known them for 30 odd years, please don't tell me now that it doesn't work.

As noted on my homepage, this site is far from an exhaustive fable of my life, instead you'll have to read the books for this. This site is instead a more interactive environment where I can provide you real time information, including interviews, photos and products. If you think that something should be added, or that I should link to your site drop me a line and I may consider it. For now..........Via Con Dios, Amigos.