I wrote part of this to Channel 9 TV station in 1989. Today on the Tuesday 15th October 2002 I am taking it out of a letterform and changed. It to a brief   statement.  Their's two kind's of people in this world, Nobodies Child and somebodies child.....  
(The main letter was written to Ray Martin. On the midday show, back in 1989) in my response to the tittle  “Nobodies Child”. That’s what the show was called 

Introduction. 

I was bought up in an orphanage called (Nazareth boys orphanage) during all of the 60’s by the nun’s of the order of (poor sister’s of Nazareth) (currently shown on 60 minutes September 2002 and exposed for there cruelty, there shame, there cover up’s there total insane and barbaric inhuman punishment and terror on us kid’s, and this letter/statement tell’s you and the world of how us kid’s were brutally   treated and betrayed and savagely beaten to within an inch of our life’s   by our carers and providers of something straight out of the 16th century i.e.:  the poor sister’s of Nazareth   who’s method was to inbred fear into us by,  “supervision by aggression “ NUNS, “unprofessional and aggressive behaviour” towards us kid’s  with lies and deception, punishment, thrashings and floggings and mental torture.  These nuns had no knowledge or skills of how to deal with the general principles and child rasing techniques      and all they gave us was very brutal discipline and degrading which one still shows of the mental and emotional scars today, as in stress and anxiety, restlessness, of self worth. I was dragged “bought” up and told I /we was a piece of trash and of the devils work, a common terminology used 100 times a day by any nun at any given time of the day.  
_________________________________

Nazareth Boy’s orphanage,
Grant Street 
Sebastopol Ballarat
Victoria  
Australia
___________________________________
There is still today, in Ballarat, a Nazareth girl’s home. However, it is now called (Nazareth house.)
And another Nazareth house is also in Camberwell Melbourne (current) 
To my own thoughts the orphanage it was like being held captive by the third reight of Nazi Germany 
We were led to our slaughter by these pathetic poor excuses of human savage’s. That also let the minders of a weekend nearly bash us to death, and death/or near death expience I do mean. And wreak his own form of punishment for his own sadistic fun and amusement.  That bought our emotional death. And I guess the wish that we were. It was a house of decept lies and cover-ups “nuns” 

By Vincent Glanain’s (weekend minder) OLD BOY, his own hand, I was smashed head 1st against the corridor wall (agistment to the kid’s dining room one side, and the nuns part of the orphanage on the other 
This happened more than a few times over a ten-year period, still while over the kid’s section.  He would chase me down this very long corridor and we both were at a running speed, and just before the end and I had nothing but a split second to decide which way to turn he would at full force grab the back of my head and smash my face into the oncoming wall. (Front) “Face”
On Vincent Glenaine’s own hand I was from a standing position, smashed by closed fist as in a upper cut full forced under the chin or face, which used to lift me up off the ground and at his (a grown adult) doing this to a small child, smash the back of my head against a brick wall of a jerk court we had out in the asphalt playground it was a double sided court, he use to do this at the rear side, so know one could see what was going on.  He use to put heavy boots in my hands and told me to spread out my arm’s then (as a child) my arms would weaken and tier and slowly wither.  This was his cue to smash me up against the wall.  This man enjoyed this, and is a psychotic psychopath and should be nowhere other than in jail where he belongs. And should be bought up on brutally and assault charges along with a dozen other offences as such as holding me against my will with the intent of causing me bodily harm then hiding the fact after this is done to me. 
As a small defenceless child, I ran so fast (from adult’s) that a wall catches up with me and I saw my brain, my blood, my thought’s, sorrow and pain all come crashing through my scull and my body just withered and crumbled to the floor in a state of non-consciousness 

Written October 2002
Author Bryan Cronin
|_______________________________|

__________________________________
!                                                                     !
Written in 1989. 

Nobodies, Child is an "unwanted orphan" dumped in an Orphanage, at birth. Left for dead, and forgotten. Like the unborn, aborted souls, thrown out with the trash, into a trashcan.  On a lonely cold winter's night...  then made ward of the state for the next 18 year's of his miserable existence in this lonely life.    Then throughout this existence, called life, he has no Mother, no father, as parents, no brother's and sisters, or any other member of a family unit... And does not have any rights whatsoever. Even a person who is adopted out at birth, has "pretend parents" and at the age of 18 years old they can go through the system, and do have the right to find out"who or whatever they want", Not to mention they already have a nice warm home and all the trimming's that go with it, the thing's that a guy like me would kill for..

As well you talk about street kid's... Now street kid's, these day's wouldn't know what the word meant, %99 still have parent's and are on the streets at there own discretion, poor little people, they just can't cope and handle a bit of discipline and a few orders, like to clean there mess and get of there backsides and get out and do something positive and get a job. Then there's the ones who are parasite's to our welfare and milk it to what its worth or even then want too and expect to live at home for nothing and bludge of there family pore old parents have to feed them as well and look after them, as well feed them selves and try to make ends meet in today's society if not enough to pick up there expenses, look after and take care of them.  With this so called pressor they cant handle it. So they go on the street where they think its cool. And government give's them money which is mainly spent on drug's and alcohol, when that runs out they either, steel it or bash someone for more. Then our wonderful government looks after them. Poor little thing's, "let just one of these pathetic excuses go and see where a person like me comes from".  When these pathetic kid's finally 
Grab a brain and finally mature up a bit in life; “if they ever do" they usually go back home to their nice warm comfortable home to live..  

An orphan has no home to go back too, we are already condemned from the start, as well as these kid's go home when there hungry and to bludge money from dear old mummy, she's a sure sucker.  Most of them in later still get the family property and assets when there   parents pass on over to the other side."And these kid's DO have parents".
Let them go through life with out parents or any other member of a family, and see what life is really about.

Because of the lenth of this letter it will only be in Brief. You probably have gest by now that I am an orphan, bought up in an orphanage. During the 50,s and 60,s in Ballarat just outside Melbourne, about 100 to 200 kid's at various time's. Now with out going into to many technical details and mind you I am only talking about one child here "me".

All the mental and sexual abuse 16 years of it, from a dozen men or more at any time from anywhere at any given time, does not discriminate here. These were the old boys from the same orphanage and within its own ranks, sick and perverted as they were. A pore defenceless child, an infant, fresh meet in a meet market, for these devious, "hells assholes", here fresh meet take your pick, and then they you bash you nearly half way into the next world and rape you in your own blood that you were laying within, and semi unconscious..   Should cut their fucken dick's off ... NOW IN THE WONDERFUL NINETIES, OFFCOURSE, LIKE ITS AN EXPECTED THING THESE DAYS.   Our wonderful sick society calls these people Paedophiles, they should be castrated and the word's  "im a sick =Paedophile" tattooed on there forehead.  But that's another story for some other time.
The orphanage, had a brick jerk, (hand ball) court in the Ashfield playground it was a type of a court that we We use to hit a tennis ball with our hand instead of a tennis racket, more like squash court, I suppose. 

One of the old boy's, (Vincent Glenaine) had the job to look after us kid's on the weekend, and use to come up from Melbourne, and look after us, while the NUN'S were to retreat to there presbytery most of the weekend, probably to seek penance for the devils own work they to reek havoc on us poor defenceless children during the week..   Anyway, this guy was named Vincent, also an old boy, he was the devil's own, bought up from the realm's of hell, the most sadistic sick fucken, spawn, of the devil himself, to Reep his terrier apon his children, to steel there soul's and break the child, he would have been in his late 20s or early 30s im not sure something like that. He was bought up  "or summoned up" to supervise us kid's, 
((“Him and me now")).

He would stand me about 12 inches away from the back wall of our jerk court put heavy shoes in each hand and tell me to raise my arms out at full length, when my arm's became tired and withered and were tiered and the strength had gone from them, and lowered, he would come up to me and jive the hardest whopping full force back handed an adult could give a child, this was under my face and wasn't open handed either. I would then go flying back into the brick court head hitting it at full force, causing me concussion then he'd boot me, and tell me to get up and repeat the same process all over yet again. This would happen all day. Every weekend. This was an adult doing this to a 10 -11-12- 13 year old child.  And when he wasn't doing this outside. Then inside. For his fun in life.  This same man, for many years chased me down one of the many very long corridors it was long enough to work up a decent speed running away from him, the cunning asshloe use to wait till I got to the end of the corridor and then had to decide wether to turn left or right, but I did neither, at our full running speed he would push me at that speed and smash my head into the oncoming wall.  I really can’t remember how may times he did this to me. But it was numerous over a period of many years. I can remember I'd be lying there all groggy. Probably half dead, and in concussion yet again. He’d just leave me there.  I'd just lie there and not get up because I couldn't. Or sometimes I would wake up somewhere else. 

I found some fifteen years later that my nose had been broken many times at some stage, it is obvious this is where it all happened. But there weren’t many days that something like this didn't happen to me. Whether from this man or the so-called catholic nuns or even the other older kid's, we always use to fight, once on the asphalt, and then again with boxing gloves on up on the stage of our hall we had. You were use to the insanity from these insane people, "but I did not know anything else" it was my life then. "I left the orphanage around the middle of 1969 just before my 16th birthday I then lived on the streets with no money in my pocket, when I was 16 years of age. I walked the streets of Melbourne, and the 60s in 
Melbourne wasn't a very nice place to be, it was dirty had skinheads, sharpies bikkies and rockers and all the other cut throat crap on the streets praying on the weak. Also it was a lot rougher and tougher then it is now, I slept in women's public toilets, because the male's stunk and you would get the poofter's trying to molest you and offering you money for to fuck them or give them a head job. And the like..  And when not in there it would be in the phone boxes or i would sneak into the picture theatres and sit up the back so i wouldn't be seen, but uncourtly yet again the poofters offering money for me to do thing's to them, when i refused them they would pull a knife on me and try to stab me".

Back to these pathetic excuses of human being's that use to call themselves nuns, commonly known as witches in bad habits. These nuns would savagely punish us kid's for the slightest little thing, not only Fighting in the yard,  but yet again they would lay us over a bed in the kid's dormitory, not one, mind you but three or 4 of them with their whipping sticks that they had shoved down there long pockets of there habits, they would flog (horse whip) the 4 of them would not stop whipping me/us, until the 4 of them were all worn out of egesting they would beat the living hell out of us, again this was three or four adult nuns with there whipping sticks, I would be left on the body ,we had big purple welts from our ankles to our necks, and in terrible amount of pain that went numb for days on end.. This is no joke, this was real. This was my life as child. 
Sometimes people would come through the orphanage, (Government welfare agencies) but the nuns told us kids to never say anything to these people of how we were treated,  "we already knew what we would get if were ever to do so". All the beating’s all over 7 times fold. 
The nuns never told us about anything or educated us to going out beyond the Orphanage’s prison wall’s and that of a world we knew nothing off. Was of the hell we were set apon to live in, nor taught you anything in the slightest. Like you need money to survive or need to buy food to keep your self alive they never taught us there were places out beyond the walls of hell were places to go if you wanted to find your self a job to survive out there, when I left the orphanage, I just didn't know anything at all. I was just kicked out I was just out there with what i was standing in. No money, No job, no knowledge, I Didn't even know how to get a job or having a job means you get money and money means survival, I knew none of it. No room over my head. I would pick cigarette butt's up of the street and would bludge a light, food was the rubbish out of bins, or picked up off the street also, from other people. 
 I haven't had much schooling, they would put you where you fit in for that day, it could have been grade 2.3.4.5.6. All in the same week, if not repeated year after year during your schooling years...

I just cant put 16 years down on two bits of paper, like i said it was only in brief....

INCONCLUSION 

1995 to 1998 I was on work cover, a result of a work related injury, the company, Rapid Metal Development, the insurer MMI, I had two case managers, one after the other, 1st was a Mr Paul Mills the other was another brain dead bimbo, a Jill Tucker, now these two idiots plus MMIs management, hounded, pursued, harassed me, they accused me of lying, as well rapid metal did this also, they just about drove me totally insane in there presence of me, they were well aware of my childhood up bringing, and even mentioned I’m like a time bomb waiting to go off, with all what happened to me as a child. 
In my opinion that these cold and unassuming calculating hard horrible people within this system
As well Lawson and Downs, Lawyers for MMI including Rapid Metal. Contributed to the horrible and traumatic treatment I had received from MMI Insurance, it had to come to a point that I would eventually break, then start to open the subconscious and unlock what I had tried to suppress for so many years. And I started to reinact my dark and abused childhood nightmare. And I would stand up in a court of law and state that these people worked on my childhood experiences as a way to intimidate me to a point that I would just go away. That’s there way, to deny everything and of course reject the claim. And give you the less amount of compensation as possible. They never compensated me for my deep vein thrombosis that happened 4 to 5 days after my knee operation and I ended up back in hospital for a further 5 days. My Lawyer Mr George Carabelas. Of Carabelas Mahony Lawyers. Here in Adelaide S.A.  Would back these statements up.

I have been to a Specialist Doctor and have been diagnosed with “acute bowl syndrome” from a nervous disorder. And is getting worse, I cannot afford the prescription “Colofac” as it is not on the PBS.  It cost $32.70 and that would be every two weeks if I were taking it. Maybe less. 
So, I have to live my life without it. Which is very embracing and difficult as well uncomfortable and dictates when / or how far I can go out or even if I can go out at all.

I have a weak right side of my body, my right leg, I have  a limp, and the calf is withered, its only quarter of the size of my left leg. my right foot is paralysed. and during the winter months of the year, it would seam that the blood don’t go down the vain, the right leg gets so cold that I have actually burnt my pance because my leg needs to be so close to a fire or heater to even get it anything near the feeling of some warmth within it. It has the fealing of frezing. My right arm is weaker than the left my right wrist is weaker and feels the cold more so than the other. 
It is in my opion that this is a direct result of this inhuman reject of a human being called Vincent Glanaine our Mr mister wonderful keeper of defenceless children for the weekend of every year. I have had this problem since my childhood. And now as I’m getting on in age and with my left leg injured (work cover) I have no strength in either leg.  

Since 1969 on getting kicked out of the orphanage without any knowledge of how to cope and manage with the outside world and with no education and no skills at all and nothing in hand but a hatred for life and everything in it. Now today 33 years later I have even a greater hatred for life, I still have no education and no skills that are a use to anybody. And still have even more hatred and contempt for the human race. Because no one wants to listen, no one wants to know anything about anything no one believes me. In the things that I say that have gone on in my life as a child. Wether it is injury’s incurred by the nuns themselves or this demon called glinane or the other old boys in their bashings to abuse me. Wether it be physical injuries or psychological injuries. 
Some of the things that I have lived with all through out my miserable life are countless of disaster’s failed relationships a failed marriage failures in the work place I have had 1000’s of jobs in my life, can only remember two of them that I left on good terms. And just failures at life in general. I have terrible anxiety and nervous tensions, Irritable bowel syndrome, excessive worry and caution and mistrust of people and everything. I have trembling twitching, I’m shaky I have muscle tension and cramps, excessive body aches and headaches sometimes there so bad that all I can do is to just go lye down. Sometimes shortness of breathe, dizziness and nausea, diarrhoea, more than frequent urination. Intense emotions, I always have had grief, gilt, and terrible fear and anger. I’m very withdrawn. And I attempt to shut out people and everything. I can’t have relationships. And now I find I have just given up on this, so really there is nothing to look forward to in life anymore. I have a life with no one in it. Been for the most part of my life. I’m having problems with concentration and memory. It would appear I have no short time memory. That’s why I can’t read and the like. I have bad panic attacks. I have lack of commutation problems and extreme social phobias. And phobias just on life.

At the end of this year 2003 living out in the bush totally isolated from everything and everything and doing some research into my way of life, or lack of it. And going back editing and going through this letter/statement, now with the knowledge of learning more of and finding people who have been such a great deal of torment as a child such as I, will and do suffer from. “Posttraumatic Stress Disorder” and as I learn more of it, it does start to make sense of my life and all the abuse that I was dealt with as a child. And I’m sure that I have suffered from this all my life. But I’m sure like the Victorian Govenmemt of the day when I was a child in the early 1960’s who had a duty of care to keep children out of harms way. Failed to do so. Which is why I am who I am today. They never listened or looked for a solution to fix things no one will listen to me now today. And fix things. People are just like work cover, they don’t want to hear, or know
About things and hope you just go away.  
To add to the PTSD is the above paragraph also the following
I’m stressed out totally all of the time, I have over anxiety, scared of people; don’t trust any people any of the time. People give you words and promises but like life, they always fail me. I don’t fit in anywhere in life. I have nightmares cold sweats and have the fealing of someone standing over me when I go to bed of a night time. Which makes me frightened to go to sleep. And makes me exhausted   and find myself only having a couple hours of sleep of a night time. And contributing with all the other problems that I have, makes it hard to function in my daily life.

Written by
Bryan Cronin
Author...  1989 now again in 2002 ………………………………....................................

 
I do have to add to it  now...  in light  of having the  lawyers (in Melbourne ) one, Maurice Blackburn and Cashman and (ms Kara Ward ) and a Ms Vivian Walker who was handling my case till  just before Christmas..  and sacked me from there  mass law suite . I asked for them to send me all that they had on  file   of my case...  now to my surprise  they had some letters sent to  them by the nuns.. unknown to me of course.. till last Sunday when I went to pic my mail up  from the P.O.  there was all these letters from  my father, written during the early 1960's ( what a shock )  I never knew I had a father till now... 
now again that's an added  on to the letter that I have sent you.. cos he sent me  monies...   for me and my up keep...   and that was in the old pound's shilling's and pence day's..   then after  1966 they went to dollars and cents of course. and I never received any of this.. plus presents that  my father sent..  and a bank account was suppose to be opened up for me..  in 1969  in  Sebastopol. Ballarat Victoria...  that  I was never told about...  and didn't find out about till last Sunday.. Jan 4, now in  2004...
plus a whole lot of other stuff...  so I need to go through it all. then add to the letter that  I have sent you.. I read  the attached letter you sent, and it does give the optunaty to withdraw some... !! not that way !!,   but yes!!  I will be adding to  it.. so  it will be longer than   what  it is already...  you can use it and read it in  Parliament..  with my blessing.. 
these nuns need to be and there cares of the day need to be exposed for what they really are...  I do believe that  the Vincent Glenaine tried to  end my life while I was a child. within his care...  
better end it before you get sic of me...  as it would apaire I could go on.. 
again I thankyou for your communication..
 
kind regards
 
Bryan Cronin