MY NAME IS ROBERT SHERRIFF, I AM A AUTHOR PLEASE BUY I HAVE ONLY SOLD ONE BOOK THANKS

ROBERT SHERRIFF AUTHOR POET ACTOR MODEL PHOTOGRAPHER HISTORIAN SINGER

https://the-dots.com/users/robert-sherriff-author-517519

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MY NAME IS ROBERT SHERRIFF, I AM A AUTHOR PLEASE BUY I HAVE ONLY SOLD ONE BOOK THANKS

My name is Robert Sherriff, I hope this email finds you well. I am 64 years old. I have just started writing books in the last three years to four years. So, I can finish my book series Titled (Dirkbell) I have written and product the first book in the series. My books talk about doing the right thing and helping in your neighborhood.

My name is Robert Sherriff, I hope this email finds you well. I am 64 years old. I have just started writing books in the last three years to four years. So, I can finish my book series Titled (Dirkbell) I have written and product the first book in the series. My books talk about doing the right thing 
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/93554905/posts/2197523047
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/93554905/posts/2197514420
Philanthropist, and Humanitarian. Advocate for Women’s Rights. feminist. activist//Sharing news and tips about // digital marketing // social media // influencers // Radio // Blogger // Writer of ALL Sorts Bio writer. Reading History. Favourite Subject America. A Large Following // Follows you//…………………. Youtuber, ……………..I’m that voice. ……………………………………………………………..
philosophy, draw, travel, history and strong faith. Thirst of wisdom! The Passion.
 Music – Robert Sherriff Follower  https://soundcloud.com/user-465885016  
Rearing up a child is a collective responsibility. Keeping children safe is your responsibility.
My joy comes from God the finisher of our soul and my Lord Jesus Christ Beloved Son of God.
Talk back Radio in the States (USA)
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/93554905/posts/2197523047
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/93554905/posts/2197514420
Philanthropist, and Humanitarian. Advocate for Women’s Rights. feminist. activist//Sharing news and tips about // digital marketing // social media // influencers // Radio // Blogger // Writer of ALL Sorts Bio writer. Reading History. Favourite Subject America. A Large Following // Follows you//…………………. Youtuber, ……………..I’m that voice. ……………………………………………………………..
philosophy, draw, travel, history and strong faith. Thirst of wisdom! The Passion.
 Music – Robert Sherriff Follower  https://soundcloud.com/user-465885016  
Rearing up a child is a collective responsibility. Keeping children safe is your responsibility.
My joy comes from God the finisher of our soul and my Lord Jesus Christ Beloved Son of God.
Talk back Radio in the States (USA)
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975
Success or Failure, nothing is Permanent!  SO Just put your Best foot.  Maintain Values, Justice and Virtues at all times  and you would Make it THROUGH the Rough patches Always!!  . #athingaday #Success #Failure #Nothing #Permanent #Value #Justice #Virtue #Through
Entered into The Australian Prime Minister’s PM Literary Awards 2019
Robert Sherriff-Australian – Actor-Model-Poet- Author-Singer- Historian – Photographer 
Robert Sherriff-Australian my second book a Children’s book – Dirkbell – see details below – out all ready – please click on links to buy thank you
Please click on link to buy thank you 
https://twitter.com/SherriffBook https://twitter.com/Lloyd8754Rob 

https://www.quora.com/profile/Robert-Sherriff-Poet-Actor-Author
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ 
https://twitter.com/SherriffBook https://twitter.com/Lloyd8754Rob 

https://www.quora.com/profile/Robert-Sherriff-Poet-Actor-Author
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ buy online
https://soundcloud.com/user-465885016
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
https://the-dots.com/users/robert-sherriff-author-517519
ROBERT SHERRIFF AUTHOR OF DIRKBELL 
if you are looking for a good present for child between two years old and ten years old this childrens book is a must cheers Rob 
PLEASE HELP ME MAKE THIS CHILDRENS BOOK ABOUT A BEST SELLER
PLEASE HELP ME MAKE THIS BOOK ABOUT A BEST SELLER –
PLEASE SEND ME A EMAIL IF YOU WILL BUY THANK YOU ROB. robtsherriff871954@gmail.com https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/87171469-robert-sherriff
ROBERT SHERRIFF AUTHOR OF DIRKBELL IS A CHILDRENS BOOK 
Robert Sherriff-Australian – Actor-Model-Poet- Author-Singer- Historian – Photographer 
Dirkbell the squirrel lives at the top of a huge oak tree near the sea, with his wife and their twin babies. Every day he scampers around the woods, collecting enough food for his family.
He is friendly with the mice family who owns the bakery at the foot of the tree but when Cooper, a brown terrier who lives nearby, scares off Tom the cat, then Cooper takes matters into his own hands.
Can he persuade Cooper to mend his ways? Will Tom come back if he does? It’s up to Cooper to save the day and the peace and quiet of his neighborhood by convincing the unruly pup to value friendship and to be considerate towards others.
https://twitter.com/Lloyd8754Rob
http://www.robert-sherriff.com/ 
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ 
https://www.imdb.com/user/ur93657913/?ref_=nv_usr_prof_2 
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/87171469-robert-sherriff
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 

Coming Soon – Detective Crow – New York, New York by R. L. Sherriff 
Detective Crow – New York, New York is the new book by Robert Sheriff. Part Noir Thriller, part Fantasy, part Alternative History of the world Detective Crow includes a host of memorable and captivating characters.
The story takes place on the mean streets of New York and a future where humanity lives in underground bunkers and humanoid robots walk the earth. We shift dynamically between science fiction, historical fact and Detective Crow’s battle with her nemesis Captain Neira and the femme fatale thief Princess Blackie.
In a world populated by rabbits, rats, monkeys, aliens, robots, keystone cop style policing and the major world events of the 20th and 21st Century this book has more laughs and ideas on each page than the average novel. It will be enjoyed by both young and old.
R. L. Sherriff 
Philanthropist, and Humanitarian. Advocate for Women’s Rights. Im that voice. Sharing news and tips about // digital marketing // social media // influencers // Radio // Blogger // Writer of ALL Sorts Bio writer. Reading History. Favorite Subject America. A Large Following // Follows you// Youtuber,…
philosophy, draw, travel, history and strong faith. Thirst of wisdom! The Passion.
 Music  Robert Sherriff Follower on  https://soundcloud.com/user-465885016  
Rearing up a child is a collective responsibility. Keeping children safe is your responsibility.
My joy come from God the finisher of our soul and my Lord Jesus Christ Beloved Son of God.
Talk back Radio in the States (USA)
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975
Success or Failure, nothing is Permanent!  SO Just put your Best foot.  Maintain Values, Justice and Virtues at all times  and you would Make it THROUGH the Rough patches Always!!  . #athingaday #Success #Failure #Nothing #Permanent #Value #Justice #Virtue #Through
ROBERT SHERRIFF – AUTHOR- DIRKBELL- CHILDRENS BOOK

http://www.robert-sherriff.com/ 
https://www.facebook.com/robertlloydsherriff871954
R. L. Sherriff 2016
MAY GOD BLESS YOU
http://www.robert-sherriff.com/ Web
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ BOOK – Dirkbell
http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/1912639270/ BOOK – Nobody’s Home
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42120501-dirkbell?from_search=true
THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING ME AND BUYING AND REVIEWING MY BOOKS

Coming Soon Detective Crow – New York, New York book by R. L. Sherriff 


Robert Sherriff Author of Dirkbell 
Dirkbell the squirrel lives at the top of a huge oak tree near the sea, with his wife and their twin babies. Every day he scampers around the woods, collecting enough food for his family.
He is friendly with the mice family who owns the bakery at the foot of the tree but when Cooper, a brown terrier who lives nearby, scares off Tom the cat, then Cooper takes matters into his own hands.
Can he persuade Cooper to mend his ways? Will Tom come back if he does? It’s up to Cooper to save the day and the peace and quiet of his neighborhood by convincing the unruly pup to value friendship and to be considerate towards others.
Entered the Australian Prime Minister’s PM Literary Awards 2019
robtsherriff871954@gmail.com 
http://getbook.at/DBell 
https://twitter.com/Lloyd8754Rob
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ 
https://www.imdb.com/user/ur93657913/?ref_=nv_usr_prof_2 
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/87171469-robert-sherriff
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
ROBERT SHERRIFF AUTHOR OF DIRKBELL AND NOBODY’S HOME
http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/1912639270/ 
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
Part of the Prime Ministers sorry day. 
Talk back Radio in the States (USA)
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/

Adult book sex abuse in State care – Wards of the State
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME – please click on links below 
https://medium.com/@robtsherriff871954/robert-sherriff-my-written-words-for-god-7-2c973c212481
My third book another Children’s book – Detective Crow – New York, New York 
Waiting for my illuster to finish his work. – See blurb below – See Pictures in attachment
My forth book – a Children’s book and Adult book 
My Childs Father Is an Alien My In-Laws Are From another Planet 
I am writing this book at present. 
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME – http://getbook.at/NOHOME
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/
robertlloydsherriff871954
Entered into The Prime Minister’s PM/Literary Awards 2019
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 … 

ROBERT SHERRIFF – AUTHOR- DIRKBELL- CHILDRENS BOOK
United States:
My books are available from all good books stores and to mention a few below thank you Rob 
https://wordpress.com/view/robertsherriffauthorpoetactormodelsingerhistorian.wordpress.com
Titles are automatically made available to more than tens of thousands of retailers, libraries, schools, e-commerce companies, and other channel partners, including Barnes & Noble, Chapters/Indigo (Canada), and other well-known book retailers and wholesalers across North America.
United Kingdom | Europe: Adlibris , Agapea, Amazon.co.uk, Aphrohead, Bertrams, Blackwell Book Depository Ltd, Books Express, Coutts Information Services Ltd, Designarta Books, Eden Interactive Ltd, Foyles, Gardners, Trust Media Distribution (formerly STL), Booktopia, Mallory International, Paperback Shop Ltd, Superbookdeals, The Book Community Ltd, Waterstones, Wrap Distribution, Australia & New Zealand, Fishpond, The Nile, James Bennett, ALS, Peter Pal, University Co-operative Bookshop, and avalible in all good book shops world wide.

https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/

My books up to date. Please see attachments. There is quite a fair bit of information and I do not know if your link allows me to upload all.
My first book NOBODY’S HOME – Biography – out all ready



Entered the Australian Prime Minister’s PM Literary Awards 2019
Robert Sherriff-Australian – Actor-Model-Poet- Author-Singer- Historian – Photographer 
Robert Sherriff-Australian my second book a Children’s book – Dirkbell – see details below – out all ready – please click on links to buy thank you
http://getbook.at/DBell Please click on link to buy thank you 
Dirkbell the squirrel lives at the top of a huge oak tree near the sea, with his wife and their twin babies. Every day he scampers around the woods, collecting enough food for his family.
He is friendly with the mice family who owns the bakery at the foot of the tree but when Cooper, a brown terrier who lives nearby, scares off Tom the cat, then Cooper takes matters into his own hands.
Can he persuade Cooper to mend his ways? Will Tom come back if he does? It’s up to Cooper to save the day and the peace and quiet of his neighborhood by convincing the unruly pup to value friendship and to be considerate towards others.
robtsherriff871954@gmail.com 
http://getbook.at/DBell 
https://twitter.com/Lloyd8754Rob
http://www.robert-sherriff.com/ 
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ 
https://www.imdb.com/user/ur93657913/?ref_=nv_usr_prof_2 
https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/87171469-robert-sherriff
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
ROBERT SHERRIFF AUTHOR OF DIRKBELL AND NOBODY’S HOME
http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/1912639270/ 
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
Part of the Prime Ministers sorry day. 
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/
Adult book sex abuse in State care – Wards of the State
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME – please click on links below 
https://medium.com/@robtsherriff871954/robert-sherriff-my-written-words-for-god-7-2c973c212481
My third book another Children’s book – Detective Crow – New York, New York 
Waiting for my illuster to finish his work. – See blurb below – See Pictures in attachment
My forth book – a Children’s book and Adult book 
My Childs Father Is an Alien My In-Laws Are From another Planet 
I am writing this book at present. 
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME – http://getbook.at/NOHOME
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/
robertlloydsherriff871954
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
Entered the Prime Minister’s PM/Literary Awards 2019
Please read this. Don’t run away. This book it is about (“Domestic abuse”) and (‘Sexual Abuse”) Most people don’t want to talk about it? You say taboo you say “NO” too hard subject.
Everyone is entitled to be brought up in a safe and secure environment, free from violence, abuse, and cruelty. It is one of the fundamental rights of anyone brought into the world by parents who should love and care for them above all else.
But for Robert Sherriff, it wasn’t like that. First behind the closed doors of a seemingly ordinary family home and then in the dark recesses of a society that was ill-equipped to deal with the trauma and suffering he experienced, Robert found that mercy was just a dream.
At the hands of a brutally violent father, his complicit mother and a society indifferent to his suffering, Robert became another statistic in the South Australian State’s role of shame, exposed to institutional abuse, rape, and murder.
In his book, Nobody’s Home, Robert tells his story in graphic detail as he literally struggles to survive a system where young children were commodities and the law turned a blind eye to unimaginable evil.
He writes about the men and the mechanisms that consumed their innocence and then discarded them to a life of shameful silence, only truly beginning to live freely when his father took his own life.
By speaking out, against the odds, Robert is concluding his miracle of survival and giving hope to others. if you are an abuse survivor this book is for you. Remember it was not your fault. you were a child innocent. You trusted everyone you did not know there was so much evil in this world who listened to your screams who listened to you crying who who-who? 
I hope you put my book on your list. I feel it is important as abuse survivors to read other stories. We must support one another. My book is honest look into my past. If you ever decide to read my memoir NOBODY’S HOME, please click on any of the links below.
Robert Sherriff Author-Poet Actor – NOBODY’S HOME – PLEASE BUY – TRUE STORY
SEX ABUSE – HORROR – TERROR – DOMESTIC ABUSE – RAPE – MURDER – SEX ABUSE
https://www.pinterest.com.au/robertsherriffpoetactorauthor/
Entered the Australian Prime Minister’s PM Literary Awards 2019
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME 
SEX ABUSE – HORROR – TERROR – DOMESTIC ABUSE – RAPE – MURDER – SEX ABUSE
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 AUST
https://www.booktopia.com.au/nobody-s-home-robert-sherriff/prod9781912639335.html … 
https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B07H3XHJZ5 
https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B07H3XHJZ5?ref_=pe_572741_40935641bodys … 
UK-eBook – https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07G9M4BQY/ 
USA-Paperback – http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/1912639270/ 
Robert Sherriff Author-Poet Actor -AVAILABLE NOW 
Robert Sherriff Author of Dirkbell – CHILDREN’S BOOK 
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 … 
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 
https://wordpress.com/view/robertsherriffauthorpoetactormodelsingerhistorian830946476.wordpress.com
Dirkbell by Robert Sherriff
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Dirkbell-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639342 AUSTRALIA
https://www.amazon.com.au/gp/profile/amzn1.account.AGAZ3PKJ3SOCCMPCCEJVIQZYHOCQ
USA: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/ 
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1912639297/
https://www.fishpond.com.au/Books/Nobodys-Home-Robert-Sherriff/9781912639335 … 

Robert Sherriff
Australian – Actor-Poet Author-Singer- Historian 
Part of Wolf Creek TV series 2015 
Part of Movie ‘Maurice’s Symphony’ 2015
Motivation Speaker
Movie – Snuff 2016 
Movie – CULT 2016
Australian Copyright Act 1968
0466246021
robtsherriff871954@gmail.com
http://www.robert-sherriff.com/ 
https://twitter.com/SherriffBook 
https://twitter.com/Lloyd8754Rob 
https://storywrite.com/R_sherriff_poet 
https://allpoetry.com/R%20sherriff%20poet 
https://plus.google.com/u/6/117308783850646023359 Nobody’s home https://plus.google.com/u/4/117577792823049426575 Dirkbell https://plus.google.com/u/5/113724266468388428230 both books
https://www.imdb.com/user/ur93657913/?ref_=nv_usr_prof_2 
https://www.imdb.com/user/ur93657913/?ref_=nv_usr_prof_2 
https://www.linkedin.com/in/sir‐robert‐sherriff‐actor‐poet‐author‐singer‐a956a6166/
https://indaily.com.au/news/2018/10/22/adelaide-abuse-survivors-welcome-apology-but-action-must-follow/
https://www.sbs.com.au/news/sa-abuse-victims-tell-their-stories
Robert Sherriff Author of NOBODY’S HOME – when you buy please click on links below 
Entered into The Prime Minister’s PM/LiteraryAwards 2019

Biography
Robert Sheriff is an Author, Poet and Actor, Singer, Historian from Adelaide in South Australia, Australia. I am writing this as a third person to help you understand me. I know that you will not agree with everything Robert says in this Biography. 
Robert Sherriff was a part ot the Stolen Generations The Goverment removed him from his parents in 1961. Were he went on to suffer sexual abuse by adults employed by the state goverment of South Australia. He is now retired. Robert at one stage had 18 people working for him with the NBN. He is a Author Poet Actor Model Singer Histirian 
I am part Australian Aboriginal. On my Mother’s side. My Great-Great-Great-Grand Mother. Her Mother was a half cast. She got pregnant to My Great-Great-Great-Grand Father. I was part of the Stolen Generation. Then on my Father’s side, my bloodlines go back to Scotland. I only went to grade three. I self-educated. I have been for married 38 with six children ten grandchildren two greatgrandchildren. I am sixty-three-years old. My wife’s name is Carol. I believe in God. I am retired they call what I am doing my bucket list,
Robert self-educate as I only ever went to grade three. I can send you a lot more of my history.
I have been married to Carol for 38 years. I am father of six, a grandfather of ten and a great-grandfather of two 
Robert is now the voice for all those who dont have a voice
Robert’s latest book ‘Nobody’s Home’ is an autobiographical story of his childhood where he endured the violence of his alcoholic father and his systematic sexual abuse in the care of the all these South Australian State Government Instructions. Robert survived one of the darkest periods in Australia’s recent history where children were currency in the hands of evil men who could operate with immunity. This book reveals the horror of children in care in the sixties and seventies and explores Robert’s journey from victim to survivor. When Robert wrote this book he wrote it as a seven-year-old boy. A teenager boy to 61 year -old-man. All his personally would come to the surface. Robert is 64 now this book has taken three years for him to write. 
Don’t read this if you are e one of those people who thinks they fucking know it all don’t even scrutinize me don’t even try to understand me as you don’t know me the man behind the man I am who I am God gave me life God gave me my faith God held my hand. Did you? So, put away your pessimism. Give me your mind, your time, your heart, and your ears. The thing I want the most from you is your voice, a voice that is high and loud. A voice. That will shout out to the World. And make a difference in this World. This peregrination spans over 88 years. It takes you into the past and brings you back to the present day and then back to the past again. Tell your friends to buy a copy and read this story a story that will stand a story that will inspire, my story. A story of hope and courage. The World is my stage. Your stage. This is my story there are a millions of other stories out there Robert just prays by getting his story out there he can give people hope.
Robert is also a father of six, a grandfather of ten and a great grandfather of two his other projects include writing for children, and he has recently published the first in his ‘Dirkbell’ series; a picture book for young readers. Robert has been married to carol for 38 years.
Robert in the last twelve months was C/O Author of two poetry books. He talks of love hope life and God. These are his written words. Robert hopes to bring a book of poems out and Religish book out by the end of 2019 praising God for all his gifts of life and love. To Michael Terence Publishing. 



An Old Book 
When you read an old book
Do you really touch it?
Feel it deep inside?
Smell it?
When it was written? 
Can you feel the history?
The era?
Another time?
It worlds apart from us
The glory?
The passion?
The fantasy?
Magic?
My old friend 
ROBERT SHERRIFF AUSTRALIAN ACTOR BORN 8/7/1954
Australian – Actor-Poet Author-Singer- Historian 
Part of Wolf Creek TV series 2015 
Part of Movie ‘Maurice’s Symphony’ 2015
Motivation Speaker
Movie – Snuff 2016 
Movie – CULT 2016 
Australian Copyright Act 1968

My Parents were both born out of wedlock. In them days, this was a no, no. WHO cares. Get the fuck over it. Does this give him the excuse to be a prick? Who would take it out on all those people around him? People he loved. This was his biggest hang-up. His mother was a pro and I think he would have often thought out of all these 100, s of men who was his father?
My Father nearly drowned when he was nine this is the chain of events that could have almost been a major part of history that could have affected his descendants 35 people who would not have been born if my Father had drowned? My Parent’s first met in 1952, July. My Mother told me it was love at first sight. My parents got married in 1953, my Father had all his RAAF mates at their wedding, and they all got drunk. My Mother was outraged she told me. I was born 10-25pm 8th July 1954 one of twin baby boys two pounds each born at Carlton hospital Victoria Australia. My Brother was born 10-35pm. You could hold us in one hand surely a gift from heaven how lucky? Little did I know I was about to ascend into a hell a hell of horror a horror from hell a place of darkness and no light. Some people do not deserve children. Years later we were told we were the lightest babies to survive up till 1954 in Victoria. I can only imagine how big I was. You could hold me in one hand. Then if Robert’s father had killed him when he was seven years old 17 of his descendants would not be here. 
Our God listens 
Remember God is in all of us his Spirit and the Son the Holy Ghost our bodies and his church and in our prayers. Our mouth is his voice a voice for all. Our eyes are his eyes even if we are blind. Our God listens to our prayers we listen to him. We are the Rock of Gods church, and God is my only true God. Love God as you love yourself. To love yourself you must show love. AMEN. 

God loves me for who I am. AMEN. 

Mount Everest 
We all have a Mount Everest in our lives to climb. She is so beautiful yet so precarious. No mountain is tall enough to make me feel too small. Nothing will ever knock me down. Or keep me down. I am stronger than that. I will walk tall hold my head up high. Will you walk with me by your side lets climb that mountain together? Let’s never give up. There’s help. I will reach far and wide for the clouds the stars in the dead of night with God by my side. We talk I give praise to God.
AMEN. 
ROBERT SHERRIFF AUSTRALIAN ACTOR BORN 8/7/1954
Australian – Actor-Poet Author-Singer- Historian 
Part of Wolf Creek TV series 2015 
Part of Movie ‘Maurice’s Symphony’ 2015
Motivation Speaker
Movie – Snuff 2016 
Movie – CULT 2016 
Australian Copyright Act 1968

In other words, “your Stupid “my Fathers response 

We moved to Port Pirie South Australia, where our Father’s Mother lived. It is here where my life will be changed forever, the day my Father would break my arm and four ribs with a broomstick and punched after punch and kick after kick. They don’t shot horses, do they? Well, fucking shot me. THEN. Let’s go do it. I remember the times when my Father was beating me, I would scream out while crying Daddy; please stop Daddy stop I love you. Stop, stop, stop. When you find it tough, put your hand on your Heart and feel the beat. Please love me.
I remember the police took me to the hospital then back to the Police station stripped me of all my clothes and took photos of me naked I then went back to the Hospital. My Father went to court, and he was fined £50 pounds a lot of money back in 1961 The Judge called my Father a Vicious Creature. The day my Father went to court he admitted two other counts. {I was in a serious to critical condition}
The State of South Australian Government made me a Ward of the State when I was 6-7 years old. Back in 1961. It might have been a lot better if my Parents had an abortion. I it was not legal back in the early 50, s? The Governments of the past and present in SA South Australian have blood on their hands for those Wards of State who has committed suicide and those who don’t have a voice. Or I want is justice for every one of these Wards of State. And to give them a voice.

My heart
My heart would be so broken. When they put in Glandore boys’ home, I felt like the fire had gone out? I was so overcome with grief, shattered. I was scared I was in fear of my life after what had happened with my father. I thought this was the regular thing a seven-year- boy goes through? And as I have said many times. The sex abuse will last a lifetime. 


Reporting of physical abuse to police or rape back in 1961 was not a big issue for the Police most times. The woman did not report attacks to Police. Men in Australia thought they had the right to slap around a child break ribs and arms and just get a fine. Males in Australia also thought they had the God given the right to rape their Wife. Who was going to stop them? Most times they did not report it to police. Not sure if this happened around the World? Or just in Australia. Separate times different countries various locations.
My Father’s hate for me was so virulent, yet I loved him so why? I think my Father knew his happiness was his greatest enemy, and his insanity was his tormented friend a friend who could not show any response only the evil within his mind an account without a destiny a mind that became lost in his own self- importance. Could I never understand why? Should I show pity? Yes 40 years later. Have I no right to judge my Father it is not my call? It will be God, s call. I have forgiven him if I don’t it would kill me. 
My Father on many occasions raped my Mother in front of me as a child. In one sense I was horrified he was hurting my Mother. I did not understand anything about these sexual assaults until I was older. I then knew what a sick piece of shit he was. Thank God, I did not take the same road as him. The beast from Hell. 
John Bartlett started at Glandore boy’s home 1955 third most senior officer.
He was a very tall man, solid build; he looked like a bear. His hands were quite big, and he had dark black hair. He was in his mid-30, s. He had very deep brown eyes. I would have loved to be able to read his mind to see where all his hate began. I wonder if he was related to my Father. He was not a happy man never laughed.
Here is the bastard who sexually assaulted me again and again plus all the other boys. He was an ass-hole, mean bastard; prick, scum of the earth.
Bartlett had his son at Glandore for a trip he was born with Cerebral Palsy
His son was crying and screaming a bit Bartlett smashed the fuck out of him it scared the shit out of me and the other kids I will never forget that day.
I told the Police after the first attack at Port Pirie and Glandore Boys Home. I would get so hot and found the only way to cool down was. To tip water. All over my head. So, since then whenever I became a little flustered I still tip water over my head. Crazy hey?
I don’t know what age he lived to or if he is still alive?
I believe he has earnt himself a dance with the Devil.
THE SHED – The day my innocence was stolen Glandore Boys Home.
I will always remember the day my innocence was stolen. I was a seven- year-old boy. I had just gone through the cruelest thing, the most disturbing and grotesque experience. That could happen to a child. The people I most loved trusted. I looked up to my parents. I loved my parents; it did not matter what they did. I loved them and wanted them back even after what my Father did. I would fret about them; I was so loyal to them even after my Father belted me to an inch of my life. My Father broke my arm and broke four ribs. This child at some stage would have had his spirit broken. And being apart from his Mother, who he would miss every night, the tears the pain the poor little boy would go through don’t forget he is still only seven-years-old he is still a babe. He is such a tiny child. He would have fretted so severely for his Twin Brother; he missed so much. Imagine the pain this boy felt being torn apart from his family. He would cry all night and cry out loudly and vigorously. He then would scream the place down and cry, sob. O how he would sob. But did anyone care about this little boy? Who could not understand, what was happening to him? And what it was all about, and I still can’t get it? I still cry up till this day and year. Why these bastards did what they did that happened to me. Remember I did not want to be a part of this experience. So much violence. That was at home or the sex abuse. At Glandore Boys Home. STOP. Let me get me get off this train ride. Set me spirit free. Please show me mercy. Throw me off this train to nowhere. It is during this time I found out you died, and I cried why do people die? I saw a dead bird on the ground, and one of the boys then told me it had gone to birdie heaven. That little boy inside me is talking like that seven-year-old. To me. He has been so sorrowful while written this book. I remember the time I was crying out the front of Glandore boys home naked. And I wanted to be dead. Like that bird that other kid told me about, I said I was going to walk in front of a car. And get broken up and then I must of realize I would not have been here anymore I did not care I just wanted it all to stop hurting. It was just not fair. What do you expect what was in my mind? Stones, rocks, throw me of that freight train.

I can recall the incident. They say you cannot remember what happens to you when you are a seven-year-old boy? What a lot of crap. I remember he took me into the shed, between the kitchen office and the school. It was so very dark in there. And there were no windows to let in the light. I was so frightened in my mind; my heart would have been racing prostrating. I cannot see the adults face. But I recall the male adult and the large shadow he cast. I could not see him as the sun was gleaming it was so bright, I was frightened, scared, trembling as I started to have that experience where I was out of my body I could see a golden yellow light. I now know for sure that the male person was John Bartlett. I see his face all the time even now. My clothes and undies; singlet, shoes were all stripped of me. I don’t want to tell you a lot about what happen that day. I do know that there was something inserted into my anus. I was screaming he then put his hand across my mouth and face. I started gasping I felt like my whole body was turning blue. I was like, a rag doll, so tiny. I thought I was going die. 
I remember touching my bum. On my hand, there was red blood and shit. It smelt bad. I recall being curled up on the ground in a fetal position. I curled my body up to try and protect myself. The fetal position felt safe. A place I called home for six months you could not hurt me I wanted my Mother. She would have killed you. My Father would have skinned you alive. The funny thing about my Father. He could hurt you. But don’t you. I was absolutely in shock at seeing blood and shit on my hand. WTF? Why was I was sexually abused by adults employed by the state Government; this is one of the evilest, and most gross acts you could do to a seven-year-old boy. You owed that boy a Duty of Care, and you failed miserably. How weak was this attack the most heinous act upon a seven-year-old boy who was small in comparison to other seven-year-old children? Being a twin and still trying to catch up with that growth spurt. Remember he was a two-pound baby. Still, I was quite small I have the wounds and scars and emotional scars that will never heal. The mind can be a stranger you see things that are not there you hear things that are not there you feel things that are not there my pain has so many deep roots I have lived with these feelings for a long time. All the staff at Glandore boys home should hang their heads in shame. Various times different ideas different values. Who would believe a child who was seven years old? No one. What if it was one of their children? That was put through the hell of being sexually abused. I do know there was violence hurdled towards other children and me. We were continually abused by staff and other boys and by some asshole staff members the abuse was of a sexual nature. I was found naked between the school and the kitchen, and the man that sexually abused in the shed at Glandore was John Bartlett. This man reminded me of my Father a brute of a man no heart. I man I would have loved to have met when I was an adult. What would have been his reaction? Would he have been sorry? 
I remember looking down I did not feel the pain in my body anymore. At First. Then the pain was very extreme. I believed I thought I was going to die. We were all like soldiers only thing is we had been our tears. We were in a War Zone where we could not win. Were we casualties of the State? I know that all these so-called Human Beings could not break my Spirit. No human being should ever be subject to this abuse. Its bull shits. Don’t remember I am an only seven-years-old boy. This story is not about pain and suffering it’s about sexually gratification. One thing I have done over the years is scratch my face so bad that when I am asleep, I keep on having these bad recurring nightmares. The nightmares I have suffered since I was that little seven -year -boy. I scratched Barrett’s face in the shed. I have for years scratch my face at night when I am asleep. I gouge my face so bad to the point that my face is bleeding. And I leave large red scratch marks all over my face. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, and the sweat would be pouring out of me. Over the years, I have had to cut my fingernails each week. I have done some bad damage to my face there are scares. What ever happen to me in life I will always put a face to it. I have seen the Devil. I did not know the Devil, could be resurrected; I do now.

Falling Star

What I loved to do as a child was an image, I lay on my back at Glandore boys’ home. On the oval and look at the night sky. And picture what it would be like to ride a falling star, as its flicker’s, shine’s, and it glows in the evening sky. A light so bright it lights up the night sky faster, faster, quicker than the speed of light were on some planets. Parents loved their children. (O how often I prayed for that right) 

Robert Sherriff 2nd 2016

As a child, I was a little seven-year-old boy who suffered such a traumatizing miserable childhood. I would suffer such horrific injuries. Broken bones. Beaten to an inch of my life. 1961 I was covered with the terrible bruises after the most savage beaten by my Father. Then I was to be tragically sexually abused. By adults. Employed by the State Government of South Australia. I have seen the face of this evil. The face of these monsters? Have they the face of the Devil? No, the face of evil and terror is left on the face and in the minds of every lost and frightened child. Perhaps it will expunge the hate and tragedy I have seen in my life. You know you hurt me all my life. 
There were many suicide attempts.
I believe because of the Complex trauma that I this was suffering this affected my developing brain. I had to comprehend it, and it may have prevented me with my capacity to integrate sensory, emotional and cognitive information, which may lead to over-reactive responses to subsequent stress and long-term effects such as cognitive, behavioral, physical and mental health problems. I often suffered from fits of delirium.
Glandore Boys Home.
These males or male who worked at Glandore boys’ home who sexually abused me this gross harness act on myself which involved penetration and occurred more than once. This sequel has caused me great psychological distress, substance abuse, and sexually related problems. I have been impotent for fourteen years and all my medical problems are related to the sex abuse.
Because of the physical and sexual abuse, I had to endure the attempted suicide/suicidal thoughts occurring during adolescence and an adult. My maltreatment as a child was responsible for my adolescent suicidal thoughts, and my suicide attempts, the sexual abuse, and my emotional abuse might be more important than the physical abuse or neglect, from one year of age onwards. Such a sad part of my life I believe my psychiatric “borderline personality” inside me has created the creation of self-hatred and low self-esteem in my mind from sexually abuse as a child. I thought that I deserved to be punished further for being “bad.” This led to self-mutilation by cutting, burning, a history of “accidents”, by the seeking out sexual experiences where there is an element of punishment involved.
This period of my life on many occasions I attempted self-mutilation
I think sometimes I just wanted desperately to be so vulnerable, precarious. And so, overwhelmed emotionally. And be available so I would pretend and imagine who I am and complain to all the time. About how I am so open and yet hide behind my Glass mask. A glass mask without any eyes a mask that does not show who I am. My emotions. What I am where I have come from my pain O the pain my mental health issues my two faces have I that no one would ever try to listen to or help or care or love me but. Anytime anyone or somebody extends me. Some sort of affection or their right hand of peace. I would reject it with banter and the emotional walls due to some weird Internalized fear of trusting people. Or sharing my real emotions my feelings I Was so scared of my feelings I would hide like when I was a child playing Hide and seek. In a one on one setting like I was literally just frozen like the Titanic hitting an iceberg in 1912. About whom I am and how I feel about other People just because openness terrifies me, so I in this weird doublethink way Describe myself as an open person. But you know that I actually reject any Degree of emotional intimacy as a reflex like the Doctor hitting my knee with a hammer. And so, I stew in feelings of inadequacy and shame and become more emotionally stunted with each passing day. When I look at a Photo of myself, I ask why what happened. Where’s my yesterday? 
Dissociating – I wanted to touch on dissociating again, my weapon. Shield.
My identity as a child this caused me the most traumas at an early age which was not appropriate. I had to learn to develop and then from an un-developmental level, with regressions to advanced levels when the ego structure is overwhelmed by the experience of the sexual abuse, I learned from an early age to leave your body. A time when you should be doing boy things. Playing soccer, football or playing like any seven-year-old boy.
I could float, and I would see yellow all would be calm no one could hurt me. I was in space to out of limits of my brain this would protect me from any danger.
As am writing this, I am having an out of body experience now; this serves me the Master well. There was only one other escape for me as a child? Jesus. 
As an Adult, I experience it all the time 24/7 as soon as I feel I am trapped.
I wanted to touch on Dissociating again. I became a Master at it; I control it.
Again, I think it was the little seven-year-old Boy trying to protect me
My shadow will never disappear as long as the sun follows me.
If I break if I’m hurt who will fix me?
No there is no way I can tell more about the sex abuse I endured no film nor pictures will tell the story it’s all in my memory banks my hell my mind. Once the sex abuse started, I became an entirely different child. After what had happened, I did not care anymore about anything anymore. These sexual crimes could turn little boys into men. I was locked up in a child prison I did nothing wrong I was the victim a victim who was abused by my Father then a victim of the system to which this would be my hell. Remember evil is not in your heart it’s in your mind. Whatever happens to you in life don’t run face your fears face your demons. I have failed her “life” sometimes she is also patience with me. She leads me on. The only time you will ever lose is if you give up. Please weep for these little boys. Be kind to them pray for them. Murder was covered up. The boys buried at Glandore boys home
Sometimes I wish I could take that little boy inside the man and love him, hold him, sit him on my knee. The little boy who has been abandoned by all these he loves. Please like me.
There will be some things that are so bad I will never be able to recall them for they would Spiral out of control, out of space and mind. My thoughts I could not think or take anything in. My heart would become so empty. A little seven-year-old boy who craves love. Without love, you die. So, does the soul. Please love me.
I would pinch myself hit myself and leave bruises over my body. I would like to bang my head hard and try and hurt myself. I would hide under the bed or around the corner of the street. I would hide behind tree’s and up tree, s. I would hurt myself as much as I could I knew how far to go. I would hide under my bed when things get tough, I still do. I was a ratbag. Are all children ratbags yes, I think so? Please love me.
As I said, this takes you back and brings you back and back to the past again. 
A story that will cause fear, and disgust to all those who read it. My story. That has happened in my life; I have gone to and come back from the hell and some real dark places. Only places the Devil knows. Fight like hell you two can go back from those dark places too. You can cleanse yourself of all your evil an evil that is meek and evil that is without a soul. All you need to do is ask for help and pray to your God. I am not my Fathers son. 
The highest level I passed at school was grade three reasons I only obtained this level of Education was because I was a Ward of the State. I became so lost in this World. I did not care about an education while, why should I? They started it by lighting the fuse they light the fire that will sizzle and send sparks flying to my brain. A mind that I believe had shut down a brain that could not take anything anymore. As you might read somewhere in this book, I only got to grade three. I would self-educated myself by reading newspapers and books and watching quiz shows 24/7. Remember I could not read or write. Even now I am still learning, every day I learn something new. I was hungry. I learned to speed read when I was about twenty-two years of age. I started to change my life around I wanted me to be proud of myself. I wanted to stop being that frightened seven-year-old boy. Please love me. 
My Father once told me he was more frightened of me than I should be of him. How true. I know this for a fact. Don’t forget children turn into adults. 
When my Father hurt me, I could see what was happing. I would float around the room like white feathers from a pillar, light and soft feathers and warm I sometimes wondered if my Father was from a different planet. My Father was always angry he would go to hotels and look for fights. There was never an ounce of love in my parents’ house. When you have a house with no love, you have a house without faith. 
When I was young the Time. Seconds, minutes and days of the week. Months and years would always be so slow. I would hate to the listen to the minute hand tick, tock, tick, tock. The sad thing about all this sexually abuse was these officers would go home at the end of the day, and their children would be older than me. Were they safe? And then they would go to bed with a clear consequence in their head and then next day go and do it all over again.
To me everything from my early days was always black and white. 
From an early age, I was using razor blades to cut myself up. I would go and hide in the toilet and cut pieces of my hands and arms by cutting myself. I would have been about ten years old when this started. I was trying to hurt them, but I took it out on myself. I did it every second day. I would need stitches. They could not work out why I was mutilating myself so bad? Did I know? Yes. I still have some of the scars on my hands to this day.
I had been on a self-destructive road for a very long time since the beginning of time. I think this would have started when I was two up to seven-years-old it would skyrocket.

My Mother was a dreamer, and from an early age, she wanted to escape her poverty and lifestyle she dreamt of Hollywood and wanted to be a singer or a movie star? Somehow, I think she wanted me to be that star? I have shared her dreams. 
She got lost in her darkness; dreamers learn to steer by the stars.

Opened Up
Whenever I have opened to someone, anyone, I always push them away. It has happened to me all my life. I have had no control over it. I don’t know why this happens. Or is it that the little seven- year-old boy who is too scared to reach out to someone, anyone? Is it that little seven- year-old boy who cannot trust anyone? Or the most important question can’t he trust himself? Why? Is it he is too frightened to get too close to someone and be knocked down again? Or is it that twelve- year- old boy who is trying to solve the World’s problems. All those he has had contact with on the streets. Who would love this child? 

LET ME EASE YOUR PAIN 
God has given me this gift a to help those who are in pain a deep pain and these who can’t talk about their pain that has dark roots a pain they need to stop. Since a young boy from about twelve-years-old I have had people tell me all their problems, I was a social worker, counsellor, a physiatrist a friend. It has happened all my life in the first five minutes of meeting you I can tell you more about you than you can. It is a gift why me? While has, God gave me this gift? I will know about your life. Your children, your marriage. Your work your mind in general if we have good eye contact. I can touch your mind heart and your soul. You have had this pain as a friend for a long time. When I speak to you, I blocked out the rest of the world. It’s you and me it is a gift given to me to that gives me the power to take away your pain, your grief. 
I am someone you can trust
I have an open heart an open mind
I have eye contact 
I show Love; I touch, I hold.
Remember It is not your fault
Remember It is not your fault
Remember It is not your fault
Remember It is not your fault
Remember It is not your fault
Robert Sherriff 2017

Readmitted to Glandore – BARTLETT

On the 16th January 1966. I was returned to Glandore boys’ home where I remained barring holidays and placements until 20th December 1968. Foster homes were another matter. 
I still remember when I was eleven or twelve years old. My Mother had me arrested, and the Police took me to Police headquarters in Adelaide. The Government then ordered to go with Police and escorted me back to Glandore Boys Home. I remember the same staff members were there when I was returned to the boy’s home. With the addition of giggle pot. Mr. Don Craig funny man. I remember the other Aboriginal lads here were now playing good football they had just won final for that grade and year; we cheered them on. I was not going to put everything in this book but have decided that I will. I will not put all the explicit details in regard to these people who were there to protect this little seven-year-old boy I would have thought they were there to protect this small child not use someone’s misery to fill their sexual gratification. One officer, he carried a stick he loved to use it. He hit us time and time again. He was always smoking around us. 

I said Bartlett abused me was in the sick bay I think it would have been late 1965 or early 1966. I had been in the sick bay for a few days now I had tonsillitis. Two nurses put me in the bath I was naked with freezing ice. I still remember that bloody cold bath at the time I was 11-12 years old at the time. I remember the weather was warm Bartlett later that day came in my room sat on the bed I was the only boy in sick bay at the time. And I seem to remember he woke me up. It was so semi-dark so there for it would have already been nighttime as in them days we did not have daylight saving plus we had curtains on all windows that were shut.
Bartlett sat on the left side of my bed and put his hand over my mouth. And then put his hand under the bed covers and touched my penis; he fondled my penis for a while without saying anything. I could hear how healthy his Breathing became, and he was starting to sweat and was shaking, if my Father found out he would have killed him I know that. 
I remember he was continually looking around the room to check no one coming and he kept on watching all the time. Fuck this fucking shit. NO.
I remember I was lying on my back and at the time I was trying to move my body away from him to stop him touching me.
Bartlett was a big man, and I feared him, I had seen him in action with his son who he belted on one other occasion. Plus, the shed was at the back of my mind. He was Breathing heavy. And I was trying to slow down my breathing to escape him. I would in my mind leave the room and float AWAY. Please, God, help me take me away from this man. Please.
After he stopped fondling me, he just got up and left. I didn’t tell anyone about that incident because I was too frightened. I remember the nurse came in the following morning I was sobbing. I was uncontrollable heart broken. Why me? Why? I felt again like I was just a tool for their hands. 
I can’t remember the conversation, but I said nothing about Bartlett or to Bartlett. I have now been in the sick bay for two weeks. High temp, but Bartlett kept on visiting whenever he had the chance. Fuckin pig. Asshole.
He abused me about another twenty times while I was in sick bay, every time after dark. I remember on a couple of occasions (BARTLETT) got his penis out and pulled back the covers on my bed. He also took my pajamas off I did not wear undies under pajamas. He then Masturbated me with his hand (right hand I think?) until I ejaculated. I was then made to masturbate him until he ejaculated. I used my right hand. This story is not about pain and suffering it’s about sexually gratification. Sick PRICK. 


BARTLETT SEXUALLY ABUSED ME – Glandore Boys Home

My recollection of the time that Bartlett came in to see me from the dining area past the kitchen and office (from my right as I lay on my bed).

Bartlett sat on the left side (edge) my right hand of my bed and the toilet was 
On (my left hand the bathroom) as soon as Bartlett sat, I bolt for the bathroom.
I remember it was dark at the time.
Bartlett followed me to the bathroom and found me on the floor near the wall, and I was shaking and crying, please don’t hurt me.

I remember that to this day; I shall never forget those words I said to him.

Please don’t hurt me.

He grabbed me by the hair, and I struggled to get away, but he was just too strong, don’t forget for my age I was small. I was crying, but this did not stop him stripping me naked.

He dragged me towards him as he sat on the toilet seat with his trousers near his ankles. You could hear how heavy his Breathing was becoming 
He then started fondling my penis and testicles, at this stage, I was uncontrollably sobbing and struggling to get away from him. At one stage, he put his hand around my throat. Again, I felt myself starting to float. I thought he might have tried to kill me.

I remember that I was continually saying “don’t” to him, but he just carried on.

He forced me to sit on his knee, and I could feel his erect penis against my buttocks.

I continued to struggle and was crying, shaking and howling with fright. To try and keep me quite he put his hand over my mouth again and got me around the neck and said shut the fuck up. This really scared me.

I managed to get down on the floor now at which point BARTLETT was now 
Behind me.
I remember that I had stopped struggling now because he was on strong. 
I could not move. He was holding me with his legs. 
Bartlett must have been masturbating behind me all a suddenly 

I felt a warm liquid on my back; I knew it was semen.

He then made me have a shower, and he tidied up my bed.

I can’t remember what happen next other than I went to bed.
At this stage, I had not told anyone about what Bartlett did that night.

Bartlett is sexually abusing me again and again. He caned me, and he caned me. I also remember on a few occasions when Bartlett saw me, he would shake with fear, and I would walk away from him.

I avoided him when I could. Bartlett never said anything about the abuse he inflicted on me. And when I would not do what he wanted he would get violent he often gave 
me the cane because I would run away from him and he gave me a few backhanders a couple of times. Other times I would start screaming to get the attention of the other boys. Well, you know what (FUCK HIM) THE PRICK.
When you find it tough, put your hand on your Heart and feel the beat.

Winda Boys Home
I was ordered by the courts and the Government of South Australia to be lock up as I was wild child. I was sentenced to go to Wanda Boys Home as I now had got so angry. I could see Glandore Boys Home out of my cell at the boy’s home. Wanda Boys Home was behind Glandore Boys Home. I could see all my mates. They would come to the outside of my cell, and we would talk. There were some officers from Glandore Boys Home working here. The ass wipes we called them. There were lots of boys and leaders (officers) at Wanda Boys Home. This one officer use to get his jolly’s of by masturbating in front of us. And drinking. This officer was a fat prick I cannot remember his name he likes to touch you. This officer would have been late 40, s six-foot medium built. Fat, He had a long scar that went down his face; might have got this Second World War? He had grey hair. Teeth were decayed. He had hearing aids in both ears deaf as a donkey. Face red as a beetroot and stunk of beer. He had no humor he had no family we found out he tried to kill himself twice his clothes were always dirty I don’t think he took showers, the smell.
He made the boys take all their clothes of and watch them masturbate. As long as I was there, this would go on. This officer had a thing where he would twirl elastic bands around his fingers all the time and chew bubble gum like a cow. He had been known to visit quite a few boys at night in their cells.
I was then ordered by the Government to attend St Corinne’s Day Clinic. Another time another place where things were all leading down this road, same road? I did not know at the time this would be another path leading up to more Sexually abuse. Mind games. And again, a thing called trust a trust I would now lose with all those I met. Loser. Loser. Stupid. Stupid. I am not my Father. Stop it. Please. Father, I am better than that. I am not an idiot. I am not a loser. 


Counselling
I was sent to a psychiatric hospital five day a week for two years’ part-time and this would consist of day and afternoon counselling. It was a place to go they said to help sorted out young people with their problems. They said there would be therapy. There would be cooking. There would be woodwork, and day trips. A lot of different activities. The first question they ask me am I a high suicide watch? Wow, what a question I thought? I said yes. They told me Counselling was available at this hospital privately. And you could contact someone at this hospital; 24/7. This Hospital was in the city. It was a Government run Hospital. I told the Doctors when I spoke to them. About a lot of things that have happened to me in my life. It was hard for me as I never talked to anyone or anybody about nothing. It took them six weeks to get this little bit of information out of me. I said how scared I was. I said can you imagine every day of your life, at my tender young, young, years. With a tear in my eye. I said I would start to tremble day and night. I would shake with fear. I would cry and not make a sound. I was a very shy quiet kid with good manners. I said tears would just run down my face; my head would spin at a thousand knots an hour. My thoughts got quicker and faster as things spiraled out of control. And I said as things around me changed, I went from that quiet kid. To the storm after the storm with a deadly front. The Hurricanes. The twisters. To the volcano spitting fire and the ash into the sea and air. Then there was the smell of brimstone and Sulphur everywhere. From an early age, I could control my breathing, to the dead, dead calm of the night. I could be as Quite as a mouse. And louder than my three-year-old Granddaughter. God Bless her cotton socks. To hope my Father could not hear me. I would often and have covered my head with sheets and blankets and the pillow to try and hide from this monster a monster of his own making. It did not matter what he did? And even if he could sing Opera or sing like Bieber? Who cares? Even if he was the black swan in Swan Lake. I hated him. And everyone else, I was angry, I was mad. I was trying to escape my living hell. A hell that My Father invented from his empty mind. And carried out from his evil heart and soul. The terror of fear that started from a one-year-old boy to a seven-year-old boy and beyond and to try and understand? Why? The abuse that would have then been mind blowing. Or in my opinion smashing the ten pin bowling skittle targets (called “pins”). Lane by lane by lane. If you hurt me, I retaliate, I will hate and hate and smash, you. I am using just this as a figure of speech. One thing I would not do. Just my thoughts. Not my actions. Thoughts do not hurt. 

Or was I just a computer with artificial intelligence from an Alien race? A wheel within a wheel. That’s right I only got to Grade 3. Ha, ha. Or was I sent here to see just how cruel the Human Race is? To do with or whatever you want: Stupid? When the sex abuse started, those 1001 things were happing and swirled around inside my head. And for a seven- year- old boy to be uprooted from his family. His Mother his Father and brothers and sisters and all his relatives and friends. Why his Father tried to kill him? Leave me alone before you destroy me please, he begged? To be thrown into the World a Den of Evil and full of sin. Then to be able to leave my body. I had to learn the art of doing this quickly. I could see everything from above while floating around overhead the colour was a golden yellow. I always liked this softer colour yellow. I could find peace here. A silence orders. I somehow learnt this would be my escape. This abuse, trauma and the effects this would have over the next 56 years. It has happened all my life when there are any signs of trauma. It will not stop it just festers and rots. Then again, I would leave my body, my safe haven. As I have said when you read certain parts of this book. That takes me back on this journey of discovery, to learn more about myself and help other people. If only I can just get my story to the right people, at last, I would know in some way, I have helped. My epic journey that my O Mighty God has given me a choice. In my whole heart, I have given my life to him; I knew that he had a plan for me a long time ago. One’s journey takes you far. Life teaches you about life. Your life. Remember life is not just about you.
After a while when I started going to this psychiatric hospital St Corrinne a government hospital for sexual abuse. My sexual exploits at Port Pirie took a good turn. Who should turn up but Susan? I know her at Port Pirie. At first, she was strange; she had become a stranger. I could see she was hurting why? When I knew, her she was just that sweet little girl. This bubble of a girl. She was always such a happy girl. All she would do is sing, sing. We played she was like one of my best friends, one of the boys. Susan was my mate. Susan was also quite a tomboy. She would bash any boy that hurt me.
She is now beautiful a little bit shorter than me nice body nice looking breasts long brown hair we started going out we were together 24/7 I would not let her Parents know or mine. Things began to get out of control. She wanted to control me. Talking about rings, wedding, this scared me. I began to lose it big time. As I have already stated from an early age, I wanted to kill myself from a very young age; I was using razor blades to cut myself up it is here things would get worse I was using blades every second day. I dropped her. Give me my life back. Remember you don’t own me. You just want to control me. Poor Susan what was going on with her? She had so many cut marks on her wrists. I ask why? She said life is shit. They found her in the bath after trying to cut her wrist three months ago, she said. And then they moved her to Adelaide to get treatment. She said her parents broke up. She said she could not handle it. I pray and hope she survived this and has had a real good life? The sex was good. It was my fix. My words would always be trust me. I love you. They believed me. Susan, did I did have feelings for her. It was not just the sex. It was the walks on the beach. It was our chats that went to 2am in the mornings sometimes. Susan was placed in a flat about twenty minutes from the hospital. Wonderful place a little plan. Great double bed. 
It was at this Psychiatric Hospital I came to know this fucking asshole
He was a tall man; his shadow was cast far and wide. He was aware that he was evil. Peters had one of those comb-overs hairstyles mostly strands left to right. He was softly spoken and when I think about it had the movements of a horse’s ass. Soft, tender, and feminine. He has been hiding in the closet all his life. He was torn between two Worlds the truth or the lie. Why the sham? Did the same thing happen to him when he was younger? 
Peter’s was a nurse, tall guy mid-30, s. He spoke with a stutter. Average build. He said he loved helping all those kids with problems. I know that’s crap. It was never about what he could do for them. It’s what he wanted to do to them. Everyone trusted this little worm. A worm without a hook. 
He said he needed someone to give him a hand with his magic show
I said yes, and we left the same day to go to Port Pirie; so, he could do his magic show. After we had tea, we walked along the beach. We then left Port Pirie. This spineless man had a plan. He planned this from day one of this trip. He knew why I was going to this hospital. He would use this for his own sick little gratification. It’s funny why do all streets, highways, lead back to Port Pirie? Would I come to know this place as no man’s land? 
On the way, back to town, we stopped at a Hotel of the beaten track. 
We had some food and a drink; when we were having a drink, he said hey try these, vitamin tablets. He gave me three to five. I trusted him. I had a shower by this time it would have been about 11 pm. So, we went to bed to get some sleep. Did, I think? He was going to drug me; this I know I was out of it I felt my whole body sway. I could not stand up; I was all over the place. I woke up naked he was in bed with me. He was naked kissing me on my neck and chest. He was running both his hands done my body then he would touch my face with the back of his right hand. He was breathing deeper and deeper I was in shock his left hand was touching my penis. He was lying on top of me, and then he then grabs both my hands and then held both my wrist down on the bed. I was out of it like I was drunk. Only ten times worse. I was still like a newborn foal. It took me five minutes to gain control of my senses. When I did, I saw Peters. I got out of bed called him a cunt I told him I fucking trusted him while why the fuck has, he drugged me? He was still breathing heavy gasping and sweating for air. I left my clothes in the room I ran naked down the road crying. Again, he was someone who I thought was a friend all he wanted was just to get his fucking rocks of off.
There were cooking classes and woodwork classes, and other hobby classes this fuck head had two sons’ younger than me, and he was a scout leader question I would ask? Or should have asked. What did you do to them? Ask the boys. Your sons were you this deviate around them as well? Drug them? 
THE scum bag has a house at Salisbury he would be 74+. 
How many other people has he drugged over the years?
He was a male nurse at the psychiatric hospital.
He was a scout leader there would have been other boys. Drug them? 
He begged me not tell my Father my Father would have killed him.
By the time, I reported him many years have passed. Limitation of time had passed. Plus, there might have been signs of Dementia.
Detectives were great they are there for you. When they said no charges, I cried. I trusted him, and all he did was slap me in the face like all those other fools. Trust is such a big word. Your word. Your actions. Don’t betray that trust that has been bestowed upon you. Remember you trusted someone once. When you read, this book doesn’t go by your feelings it goes by the facts.
I have forgiven all those who inflicted all this pain. I still have not forgiven myself. The reason I cannot forgive myself I had a voice and did not use it.
One day all sins will die, and all this will come to pass.
When I think of him, I think of him as the prince of darkness. 

Stripped my clothes 
Again, when my father used to come home drunk from the age of 5 to 16 on about 50 Occasions or more, he tore my clothes off, my shoes, socks, and undies of me and threw me out the front door, he sometimes chased me down the road. Was I not worried about someone seeing me naked? No, I was more concerned about the footpath and the cracked bitumen road. I was afraid that I might cut my feet. People, strangers were very kind to me when they found out what was going on. A few times some guys would swear at my Father. They never got too close to him as they would have seen what a fool he was. Drunk. They would always call the Police. I think in my life as a child and teenager through the abuse the Police came out about 50 times. Or more? My Father would always abuse the Police Officers. My Father was a pig to them the way he spoke to them. No respect for them or himself. Other dreams I have, I am running and always running in my sleep. I can’t stop. The other dream I have is real where I am scratching my face in my sleep or his and then as I said. I do inflict large scratch marks on my face. So, scared please stop go away. A nightmare where I still see my Father clawing at my clothes and causing me embarrassment. And I see myself scratching Bartlett’s face. 
I know now why for years when I laid down on a bed in a fetal position Years on end crying just staring at the wall why? 
This story is about pain and suffering it’s about sexually gratification
I never mentioned this again until I sent my Psychiatrist a letter, I could not talk to my Psychiatrist’s face to face I was too embarrassed that was 1990. 

This Psychiatrist once stated to me he thought he would not see me again as he thought I would have committed suicide when he last saw me. At the time, I thought to myself man you are one wit. 

(DDP) Crown Solicitors would not prosecute any of these people limitations of time.

Those walls I have been rebuilding them for over fifty-seven years 
I as a survivor of sexual abuse I have invented myself with many “alters” or sub-personalities this been my only way of coping to handle all my personality’s. I have had this beautiful gift all my life. Even now I think I have this great gift as the Joker. You laugh, or you cry. Please love me.
A movie I can’t watch it talks about love between a Father and son “Frequency.” I still cry when I hear a Father say to his Son I love you.
To my Children, there will be some things that are so bad I will never be able to tell you? I would not be too ashamed. I would not wish to hurt you. I only want to keep on protecting you. Keep this life I lead or had away from your ears. But then again, I have done nothing wrong. I was trying to survive. You know I cannot remember my life before my Wife Carol and my Children?

My Great Support Team
I have had a fire that has been burning simmering for over 57 years; at last, I might be to put that fire out with the help of my good friend’s Doctors, Arthur, and Sanjeev. Thank you, they are my great support. I am a very lucky person to have such good support.
I still believe a lot of good can come out of one’s past

I For the First Time in My Life got Myself a Good Medical Support team 2008.

Doctor Arthur a (Psychiatrist) was born in Australia; he is 50 years old a tall man 6 foot 5. A Little bit of grey hair, slim, a gentle heart, great wit, very distinct and he is a very caring man and has two boys 17 and 14. A good man. 
My Psychiatrist (Arthur) saw part of this book on 6-7-2016
He wrote down four things he sees in me. 
1. (Resilience)
2. (Intelligence)
3. (No Drugs)
4. (Stability in Relationship) 

Doctor Sanjeev a (GP) was born in India, about 50 years old. Five foot eight, he is about my height, this man is a true gentleman in everything he does, the talk, the walk, and I am just full of praise for him. Doctor Sanjeev’s wife is a Doctor. And he is also very charming. He has two boys. A true gentleman. 
My Doctor (Sanjeev) saw part of this book on 7-7-2016
1. He wrote down his thoughts.
2. I have just gone through page seven he gave me words from his Inner Soul.

3. I think I must go through this book to explore this Man further.

If you require medical reports, Please send me a email.

The Australian Government will make an apologize to the nation on the 23rd of October
This will cost 45billion to compensate the victims.

Detective Crow – New York, New York is the new book by Robert Sheriff. Part Noir Thriller, part Fantasy, part Alternative History of the world Detective Crow includes a host of memorable and captivating characters.
The story takes place on the mean streets of New York and a future where humanity lives in underground bunkers and humanoid robots walk the earth. We shift dynamically between science fiction, historical fact and Detective Crow’s battle with her nemesis Captain Neira and the femme fatale thief Princess Blackie.
In a world populated by rabbits, rats, monkeys, aliens, robots, keystone cop style policing and the major world events of the 20th and 21st Century this book has more laughs and ideas on each page than the average novel. It will be enjoyed by both young and old.
R. L. Sherriff 
http://www.robert-sherriff.com/ 
https://www.facebook.com/robertlloydsherriff871954
Philanthropist, and Humanitarian. Advocate for Women’s Rights. Im that voice. Sharing news and tips about // digital marketing // social media // influencers // Radio // Blogger // Writer of ALL Sorts Bio writer. Reading History. Favorite Subject America. A Large Following // Follows you// Youtuber,…
philosophy, draw, travel, history and strong faith. Thirst of wisdom! The Passion.
 Music  Robert Sherriff Follower on  https://soundcloud.com/user-465885016  
Rearing up a child is a collective responsibility. Keeping children safe is your responsibility.
My joy come from God the finisher of our soul and my Lord Jesus Christ Beloved Son of God.
Talk back Radio in the States (USA)
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/naasca/2018/09/29/stop-child-abuse-now-scan–1975

Pieces
when we break 
into tiny little 
pieces
we have
nowhere to go. 
who picks us up?
“God” 
AMEN
Robert Sherriff