[0:06]Very possible, isn't he? Very possible. Right. With a good glass of Shatal Shatal, eh, Josiah? Oh, you're right there, over there. Right. Who would have thought, 30 years ago we'd all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Chasseley, eh? Them days we're glad to have the price of a cup of tea. Right. A cup of cold tea. Without milk or sugar. Or tea. In a cracked cup and all. Oh, we never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper. The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth. But you know, we were happy in those days, although we were poor. Because we were poor. My old dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't bring you happiness, son." He was right. I was happier then and I had nothing. We used to live in this tiny old tumble-down house with great big holes in the roof. House. You were lucky to live in a house. We used to live in one room, all 26 of us, no furniture, half the floor was missing, we're all huddled together in one corner for fear of falling. You were lucky to have a room. We used to have to live in the corridor. Oh, we used to dream of living in a corridor. It would have been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us. House! Well, when I say house, it was just a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us. We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and live in a lake. You were lucky to have a lake. There were 150 of us living in a shoebox in the middle of the road.
[1:50]Cardboard box! You were lucky. We lived for three months in a rolled-up newspaper in a septic tank. We used to have to get up every morning at 6 o'clock and clean the newspaper, go to work down the mill, 14 hours a day, week in, week out, for six months a week. And when we got home, our dad would flash us to sleep with his belt. Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at 3 o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, work 20 hours a day at mill for tupens a month, come home and dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle if we were lucky.
[2:27]Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to have to get out of the shoebox in the middle of the night and lick the road clean with our tongues. We had to eat half a handful of freezing cold gravel, work 24 hours a day at mill for four and seven six years. And when we got home, our dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.
[2:47]Right. I had to get up in the morning at 10 o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of coal poison, work 29 hours a day down mill unpaid mill on 'em for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our dad would kill us and dance about in our graves singing hallelujah.
[3:06]Are you try and tell the young people of today that, and they won't believe you. No, they won't.
