Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga Weekly BLOG 1

The Day I met Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga here in the middle of Southport

I had heard that Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga, the true crime author was coming to Southport. I had heard his name mentioned many times and heard lots of stories about him; some good, some not so good. I did hear though that he was a man of his word and what you see and hear from him is what you get. In the interview he insisted that he didn’t want to be portrayed as a hard man, which I promised him I wouldn’t do. I will only speak as I find.

Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga is a man who has done a lot of things in his life, and always, for a good reason… in his eyes. The way I see it he is no angel, then again he is no devil either which I discovered later on during the interview.

Charlie was doing a book signing in Waterstones when I first clapped eyes on him and I asked if he would be interested in doing an interview with me. He agreed with this so long as it was somewhere quiet. I suggested The Royal Clifton Hotel on the promenade; it’s fairly quiet in there.

So, a few hours later I went off to meet him feeling a little apprehensive but I needn’t have worried; as after shaking his hand I found that he put me right at ease and made me feel very comfortable.

He had insisted we meet in a nice quiet place but as I walked through the foyer I could hear music resonating from the lounge; which was where we were to meet. The music was from the grand piano being played. There were few of the residence sitting comfortably as they enjoyed the entertainment on this quiet, bright, summer’s day.

I was greeted as I stepped into the lounge by Karen, his P.A. and girlfriend. She had been accompanying him in Waterstones when I had met him earlier on. As she shook my hand and greeted me warmly I gave her a quizzical look and glanced around the room wondering where he was. She smiled and pointed to the grand piano set in the bay window, where this beautiful music was being played by the pianist. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Here is Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga with the reputation of once being one of the most dangerous men in Britain; a man who had been accused of murder, bank raids and armed robberies and many other hard hitting crimes; sitting at a grand piano playing lovely, soft, classical music with an audience gathered around the room. He looked up at me as I approached him and immediately changed the tone of the music; he began to belt out a real, blues, rock and roll song; ‘Blue Berry Hill’ by Fats Domino. He smiled at me and to my surprise he started to sing the lyrics too.

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When he had finished he stood up to greet me and firmly shook my hand. I knew then that this was no ordinary gangster!

I have read his books and in some parts they are spine chilling and violent but, having said that, he has followers and book fans all over the world, far and wide; a great many of them as far away as New York.

He supports many charities, in particular Victim Support, as the man hates with a vengeance women beaters and child abusers and feels passionately about supporting women and children who, through no fault of their own, fall victim to violence, rape and abuse at the hands of some sick, depraved men who think it’s okay to perpetrate such vile (and cowardly) acts.

I have to admit that on first meeting Seiga his appearance wasn’t quite what I had expected; you know, the archetypal tough guy, the way the ‘gangsters’ of today present themselves; This man was different; he had an air of mystique about him. He was of average build and smartly dressed. He didn’t wear all kinds of jewellery or put up some tough guy front. He was clean, well presented, mild mannered and he spoke in a soft, slightly accented voice.

He didn’t want to talk too much about his past crimes but what he did point out that grabbed my attention was, quote: ‘did you know in this country they value money more than a child’s life?’

When I asked him why he went on to say; ‘If I was still at it (into crime), not that I am, and went out and robbed a large amount of cash from a bank then later on I came unstuck on that move and got arrested and charged, I wouldn’t see daylight again. The judge would say you play for high stakes which warrant a high sentence, they are the infamous words always quoted for crimes which they deemed more serious than any other crime!

The sentence, I would receive could be anything from ten to fifteen years… or maybe longer at twenty years. I mean, after all the Great Train Robbers got thirty years for stealing a large amount of cash. However, if a paedophile was found guilty of one of these heinous, wicked crimes on a child, his sentence would be much lighter; in fact, so light that it has been known for some of them to walk free from court and be put on probation as long as they agreed to go for some sort of medical treatment… and you and I both know that there is no cure for those evil, filthy bastards!

So you see; money is valued higher than a child’s life or a woman’s dignity at being raped by some lowlife. That, to me and I think a great many of the public, is not real justice.’ He paused for a moment after telling me this and he looked for my reaction before adding, ‘I know what justice I would dish out to those filthy beasts!’

It’s right what is said about Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga; he tells it how it really was with no holds barred.

Now a successful true crime author; Charlie Seiga has his books; Killer (International bestseller), The Hyenas, Vigilante and Bad Boys Don’t Cry for sale on Amazon and iTunes as downloads and as physical books through good bookseller like Waterstones and many local independent shops as well as online through Amazon and eBay and all are available through Charlie’s own website:

Two of Seiga’s books have continued to sell strongly for a decade now and are the type of genre and stories that never date. He does not use ghost writers or employ researchers; it is all his own work; straight from the man himself!

His new offering; The Jelly Gang is almost complete and will be available very soon.

So watch this space for more information………………..


Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga Weekly BLOG 2

OTS (Onthespot) asks Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga Can Money Buy Happiness?

I bumped into Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga again this week here in my hometown of Southport. Apparently, he comes into Southport most weeks to have a meal or to socialise. It was in Southport’s Vincent Hotel where I had this chance meeting. He invited me to his table and we struck up a conversation. We got talking about things in general before getting on to the subject of the economy and money which is very hard to come by these days. I asked him ‘ is money everything though, Charlie? Can it buy happiness?

This is what he quoted to me…

Throughout my life as an active villain, my first priority was to have money, and when I say money, I mean plenty of it. In my opinion, money is a very powerful thing. It can enable you to have practically anything you desire. Some people say that money cannot buy love or bring happiness, but my answer to that is, ‘give me a couple of million and I will show you just how happy it can make you.’

Ever since my youth, I craved the good things that life could offer, nice cars, good clothes, expensive jewellery, lavish holidays and, most importantly, a nice house, home and family. I would never have been able to have achieved or sampled these lovely things without money.

However, money does not come easily, and it was never just handed to me on a plate. I went out and committed some of the most serious offences and crimes in the country in order to have money; armed robberies on banks, and security vans, hijacking lorries, safe breaking and many other serious crimes. I did it all, but at times it was a terrifying business. It certainly was not glamorous, like they portray it on TV and at the cinema. I never got a kick out of it or excitement from it all. In fact, for me, it was quite the reverse and I’m not ashamed to say it!

Every time I did one of those armed blags (robberies) I was taking a huge risk and a gamble. In fact, I was gambling with my life… my young life at that.

I was always fully aware that, if I was captured, then I would be facing a long time in prison – twenty years at least – or worse, still, I could have been ambushed by the armed-response police and been shot dead!

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Pictured above is Charlie inside The Vincent Hotel Southport

As I have been quoted in the past, ‘nowadays, if I was still at it (into crime), I think I would find it difficult in comparison to how it used to be.’ I would just like to say to these young men, (and by that I am not referring to or talking about the low-life, degenerate scum and perverts who abuse women and children and hurt the innocent) those types of pricks can go and f**k themselves. I am talking to the young men of today who are into crime or considering going down that road, and who do still have decent qualities, principles and respect, which they have adopted from the old-school villain. Yes, these types of villains still do exist, although there are not as many of them now, and it is to those kids that I would say, ‘before you go down that road, have a good think about it and consider the risks, because personally I think that these days the Police seem to have it all boxed off.’ Just look at the sophisticated computer systems and equipment that they have today, helicopters, high-tech cameras, armed-response teams and advanced forensics; such as DNA testing. They even have sensitive listening devices and bugging systems, as well as tracking devices; and these are only some of the things that we are aware of. Police technology is far more advanced today. To sum it all up…… in my opinion it is the end of an era!

If you’re a kid with good common sense and intelligence, and I know these days it’s still hard to earn money and there are things you wish you could have, but think about it, because you already possess something that money just can’t buy …… and that’s your precious youth, health and freedom!

Please visit True Life Crime Books website


Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga Weekly BLOG 3 (20th September 2013)

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Pictured above : Charlie at home with his doves

As a fourteen year old kid I would regularly bunk off school with a pal of mine called Joey.  We would go into the city centre, particularly on a Friday at lunch time, and I would sneak into city centre offices whilst Joey kept look out and I would raid all their cash drawers and, whenever the opportunity arose, I would do the same to any open safes too.

The money we made was incredible.  At fourteen I was earning more money than a professional adult.

I was the richest poor teenager in Liverpool.  However, eventually all good things come to an end… don’t they?

I was inevitably arrested and taken to the police station.

Picture the scene: 

Young Charlie Seiga (aged 14) is sat in an interview room at a police station.  Two detectives are walking around the room firing questions at him in an aggressive manner.   The first detective says to him “Are you going to tell us about these robberies you have been participating in?”  Charlie is just staring in silence.  The second detective is wearing gloves and he punches Charlie in the back of his head and says “You will tell us about it in the end.”  They handcuff Charlie and lead him outside into the old police yard; it is a cold dark night and the rain is beating down.  The first detective unlocks one of the handcuffs on Charlie and clasps it shut again around a water pipe fastened to the police station wall.  The detectives walk back to the lighted doorway both laughing.  One of them shouts to Charlie before closing the door. “Give us a shout when you are ready to talk to us.”  Young Charlie is left alone in the cold dark yard with the rain beating down on him.

Quote:  ‘I was handcuffed to that water pipe for almost two hours and soaked to the skin.  Although I was only 14 I had been taught whenever arrested ‘never admit to anything and above all never sign anything, no matter what.’

I was sent away to a children’s remand home for a week.


Charlie has been made to stand on a two foot high wooden bock in the reception room of the young offenders remand centre.  He is dressed in a black leather jacket, white t-shirt, drainpipe jeans, trainers and he is sporting a crew cut hairstyle; it’s the James Dean look of the early fifties.   There are four male staff circulating around Charlie, their ages vary between their thirties and forties.  They are all looking curiously at him and passing disparaging remarks about his appearance.  One of the staff who appears to be the head says, “take a good look at this boy.  This is the uniform of today’s juvenile.”

Charlie is then taken to the dormitory where there are twelve beds.  He is quietly shown to his bed.  The boys between the ages of ten and fourteen are all asleep.  Everywhere is dimly lit and quiet, all that can be heard are the sounds of the boys steadily breathing and some softly snoring.  Charlie is in bed awake and lying on his back when he hears the dormitory door being unlocked from the other side.  Charlie turns his head towards the door and watches as it is opens slowly.  He can only see the lower part of a man wearing slippers.  It is a male member of staff who enters the dormitory and walks silently over to the bed which is nearest to the door.  He quietly shakes the young boy awake.  Sleepily the young boy mumbles something then the male member of staff takes the young boy by the hand and leads him out of the dormitory, locking the door behind them.

Twenty minutes or so later, Charlie is still awake.  He hears the dormitory door being unlocked again and watches as the young boy is pushed into the dormitory, alone. Then he hears the sound of the door being quietly and slowly closed and locked from the outside.

The young boy looking shocked and upset walks very slowly and with some difficulty back to his bed.  He can be heard quietly sobbing.  Charlie gets out of bed and goes over to the boy’s bed.  He asks the boy what is wrong with him and why he is so upset.  The boy replies sobbing.  “One of the masters has just…just hurt me.”  Charlie can’t believe what he is hearing and asks, “how old are you?”  “Ten,” replies the boy.  “The dirty bastard!” Charlie shouts.  Then he tries to console the young lad.  When he asks, “has he done this before?”  the boy nods his head.

Charlie starts banging on the dormitory door and shouting.  “You dirty bastard.  You dirty bastard.”

‘I was lucky; I was fourteen and was much bigger than the other boys so no one would try anything with me.  After witnessing what had gone on I caused uproar in the place; banging on the door and shouting.  Before I arrived at the Remand Home I had heard all kinds of stories from kids on the outside about what really went on in there.  That some of the staff were filthy beasts.


One week later, I appeared at the magistrate’s court.  I don’t know why or how but I was not charged.  I had been on an identity parade arranged by the police but nobody had picked me out.’

That was my first experience at the hands of the Police and the Criminal Justice System, but that was nothing compared to having to face my Mother, I felt I had really let her down.

It must have been a relief at the Remand Home that I was released as it would shut me up about what I had seen in there, but, this sort of filth had been going on for years with no one reporting it and it all being covered up.  These days it is all coming out and the authorities are finally listening and beasts like these are getting charged; although it is not good enough for me; the sentences they get for these filthy perverted crimes are a joke!

That experience really shocked me and made me sit up and reflect upon my life.  It actually made me consider leading an honest life, but although I was still only a kid I found it hard to be good and a lot easier (and more lucrative) to be bad.  Obviously, I chose the latter and continued to live that way of life!

‘As a post script to this little story I don’t recommend this life to any young kids of today.’

Just one of my memories as written about in my new book; a powerful, true story and my definitive childhood autobiography… ‘BAD BOYS DON’T CRY’ which is available to download and read now on iTunes and Amazon.


Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga Weekly BLOG 4 (25th September 2013)

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Pictured above: Charlie in Southport with a young female Community Support Officer


Years ago on most council estates there was a very strong close-knit community, people were sociable and talked to each other; they also shared compassion for one another.  If one of our neighbours was having a hard time other neighbours would rally around and try to help out.  It was also very safe in those days, nobody worried about locking their doors, and you could more or less walk into anybody’s house and feel welcome. Nobody stole from their neighbours, it was practically unheard of.

Men and women, young or old, were never intimidated; children could play out in the street and feel safe. Maybe it was this way because of the rules we had amongst ourselves.  We had golden rules, which were very seldom broken.  On the rare occasion those rules were broken, and the person or persons responsible were found out, well it was God help them.  They would be severely dealt with, and I don’t mean by the bizzzies (police).  Most of the men that lived on the estates got it sorted themselves.People actually ‘Sheriffed’ their own communities.  That’s the way it was.

Today everything is so different; things have taken a turn for the worse.  Loyalties and family values have almost disappeared.  A major breakdown in society has descended, and everything has spiralled out of control.  The police can’t seem to resolve anything; they’re fighting a losing battle and are completely demoralised.  Most of the streets have become lawless.  Criminal gangs are roaming the streets and are committing the vilest of acts imaginable; rapes, violence on the old and infirm, arson attacks on family homes, gun crime and senseless murders. Unfortunately, some decent hard working people still live amongst it all. They feel trapped and can find no way out, it is an unbearable existence for them.  Nobody calls the police; people are too frightened of being labelled a grass.  The ones who have reported crime and asked for help have deeply regretted it because of having to face a backlash of reprisals from the marauding street gangs.  These drug-crazed gangs of lowlife scum have no morals whatsoever; they would think nothing of setting fire to a woman’s house even if there were babies inside.  This low-life have no compassion at all.  So this is now the way of life on most of these council ghettos.

I went back to the council estate where I used to live, it was the first time in over twenty years; I wished I hadn’t.  It is now a depressing hellhole of a place.  Everywhere was vandalised, it resembled a war zone, but worse was to come.  Little did I realise that by going back I found myself in a situation a person could never imagine.  I went on a trail that took me to the homes of old people, men, women and children, where I actually saw first-hand the injuries what those gangs of sick degenerates had inflicted upon them.  After witnessing and seeing some of the old neighbours living in fear and too terrified to go out of their doors, it got to me.  I knew then that something had to be done.  My belief was; those who intimidate these unfortunate people should be intimidated themselves, in a more frightening manner, so brutal that I could guarantee they would never do it again. If you wonder why a man would choose to take the path I did; which meant getting myself involved in the most brutal of violence, then maybe when you have read the book ‘Vigilante’ you might understand.

This is taken from the very powerful story told in my most recent book ‘Vigilante’ which is relevant for today’s society.

Warning: the book contains violence in the most graphic detail.

Please visit True Life Crime Books website


JUSTICE? BLOG 5 (Saturday 11th January 2014)

In the past I have been classed as a ruthless villain or a gangster. Well, that is what the Liverpool police and newspapers had me down as. I have always denied ever being a gangster. But I can tell you this; if myself or my friends; that is, good loyal, honourable people from the old school who grafted with me when we were all at the other business (crime), were ever arrested for any of the robberies we committed, the sentences we would have been very severe; especially if a lot of money was involved. We could get 15 to 20 years and whilst awaiting trial we would certainly never be let out on bail.

Which brings me to the present day; there is a high profile case going on right now in the Liverpool crown court where a paedophile ring of eleven Asian men, some aged into their fifties and sixties, are being charged with crimes of the kidnap and raping of young English girls after plying them with alcohol. I hate these crimes with a passion. In my opinion the rape of a woman or a child is one of the most heinous crimes that can be committed. Let’s face it; little girls suffer enough when they get older, never mind being raped as children.

What’s made my blood boil about this case is that these filthy, low life, paedophile beasts have all been granted bail…..they are walking freely around our city! They have been brought from Rochdale and Oldham to be tried in the city of Liverpool.

Obviously, it is thought by some of these so called ‘do-gooders’ that these Asian men would not receive a fair trial in their home town. That’s a fuckin’ joke in itself isn’t it?

No doubt the young girl will be ripped to pieces in the witness box under cross-examination by the lawyers who are representing these vile degenerates. This filthy scum are protesting to the judge and prosecutor that they are innocent. A young girl is giving evidence of being kidnapped and raped several times by these beasts and here they are screaming to the courts that they are the innocent party that the judge and the courts are corrupt and they are not getting a fair trial.

‘A fair trial?’ They are walking around our city whilst the court is in recess; going for lunch and gloating about it. I will tell you this…if it had happened to my child or any of my friends’ daughters, it would never have made it to court; we would have dealt with them ourselves and given our own justice in our own way; ‘if you know what I mean?’

So far as I am lead to believe the evidence against these paedophiles are just the young girls statement…would this be enough to stand up in court? Would it fuck! These beasts know it’s going to be a weak case, especially if their lawyers find some loop-hole to exploit. They will come out of court exclaiming of how innocent they were.

Even if they are found guilty they won’t get dealt with severely; their sentences will not reflect the atrocious crimes they have committed.

However, as I’ve said before; if it was a bank robbery or any other crime involving money the robbers wouldn’t see daylight again, which just goes to prove one thing:


In my latest book ‘VIGILANTE’ you can read of the real brutal justice that is inflicted on these vile paedophiles, as the ordinary man in the street takes the law into his own hands and guarantees that the lowlife beast will never rape or molest any other child… ever again!

Warning: the book contains violence in the most graphic detail.

Please visit True Life Crime Books website


THE MERSEY….. River of Secrets BLOG 6 (Saturday 25th January 2014)

Liverpool waterfront is a magnificent sight to behold and experience these days; what with the three graces in all their splendour and the other outstanding buildings and museums down there.

Just to stroll along this part of the city and take in the fresh air at the riverside is; I find, a good way to chill out, a place to contemplate and take stock.   When I was just a kid, the river Mersey was so polluted, dark and murky, it was such a depressing place to be.

This of course, was all down to the big grimy factories and warehouses many of which were still in ruins from the bombarding during the war.

These foreboding structures seemed to stretch for miles along the docks.

Most of these enormous old buildings used and abused the river by disposing of their waste into it; which inevitably, over the years completely contaminated the water.

These modern days though, due to the environmentalist, and with funding from regeneration projects, things have vastly improved and the area has been transformed and all for the better.

A big clean-up project was started some years ago, and the river bed was dredged and cleaned up, and due to the time and effort the water is now practically free of contamination; even fish are thriving in the river.

It’s funny; you know, when I was first informed of the cleaning up of the Mersey I thought to myself ‘ I wonder if anything of interest was ever found by any of the people working on the project at the time?’

I mean, what I am getting at, is that, many years ago my friends and I; when we were at the other business (crime), we used the river to get shut of anything we didn’t want….and by that I don’t mean bodies!!

There has been many an occasion where we have thrown the odd stolen safe into it… always empty of course!

Around that era, it was common knowledge, amongst the criminal fraternity, that if you wanted to get shut of anything for example disposing of any incriminating evidence that could get you nicked; you simply dumped it into the Mersey.

Yeah, I bet the bed of that old river Mersey must hold some secrets from years gone by!

Please visit True Life Crime Books website

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ABOVE: Charlie relaxing in The Vincent Hotel Southport with a close friend.


Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga Weekly BLOG 7 ‘DREAM SEQUENCE HYENAS’

DREAM SEQUENCE  HYENAS BLOG 7 (Sunday 2nd February 2014)


The dreaded darkness is once again upon me.  Sleep overwhelming me, no matter how hard I fight it. I know I can’t hold out much longer.

Maybe it’s the comforting fire making me so drowsy.  I lit it over an hour ago, but now it’s reduced to a few glowing embers.

My little brothers and I seem to be in the heart of a jungle.  They are both fast asleep on either side of the fire, tightly wrapped in blankets, only their small heads visible.

I must stay awake, I can’t let any harm come to my brothers – they are my responsibility.  These words instilled into me by my mother echo in my mind:  ‘Charlie, you are the eldest and the strongest, take care of them.’

I tell myself to stay awake, though sleep is enticing me.  I force myself to sit upright, resting my back against the trunk of a big solid tree, in the hope that it will combat the drowsiness.  But it doesn’t help and I feel my body succumb to the familiar paralysis.

‘Don’t worry,’ I tell myself, ‘I have my faithful knife.’

I am always tooled up and, out of all the weapons I have ever used, the knife remains the weapon of choice for me; it’s silent and swift; no fuss.  Knives are easy to get rid of and have none of the identification marks of a gun.  No harm will come to my brothers; I’ll make sure of that.

But then it comes again, in waves this time, the dreaded darkness.  My head begins to roll, but again I pull it up and in that instant… I see it!  A big hideous beast is walking slowly and silently out of the dark jungle, towards the fading light of our camp.  I see only its eyes and the cavern of its mouth, saliva dripping to the grass below.  I’m paralysed.  Or am I?  I try to shout, to warn my little brothers, but my voice is just a low whisper.  The hyena looks over at me, its yellow eyes staring straight into mine.  In the past, I have looked many a man straight in the face and stared them out, but the look from this animal is too intense for me.

I try to tear my eyes away from its evil gaze but feel frozen, forced to observe the beast.  It stops in its tracks, it’s horrible eyes moving to my innocently sleeping little brothers.  It glances back at me almost taunting, as if saying, ‘Just try to stop me!’  It creeps quickly over the ground between us, until it stands over my younger brother’s innocent body.

Frantically, I scramble on the ground for my knife, eventually reaching it and getting my fingers around the handle; I try to lift it, but I just don’t have the strength.  Then it happens…….the hyena’s face contorts into an almost human grin, twisted and wicked, then, in a swift movement it howls a terrible hideous note and tears at my brother’s face.  In one smooth motion the hyena holds the full face of my brother in its teeth. With shrieks of laughter the hyena twists around and kicks and runs back towards the quiet trees to hide its sins, my brother’s face still in its mouth.

Suddenly, I am released from the spell and find my voice.  I scream with fear.  My body is stiff and my eyes are bursting out of my head, I breathe in short, sharp bursts and try with all my might to turn away from the sight of my brother’s bloody, twisted body, twitching in the darkness…

I wake up screaming and gasping for breath.  I struggle in my bed, at the sweat and sheets, at the air around me, at the darkness and the dream; this same dream night after night; without fail, without mercy.  Once again in the darkness, I resolve to be stronger than before, to be faster than before, and to put an end to this.

Of course, this was going to affect me.  I couldn’t just forget about it.  But I had been strong where others would have been weak, had held out where some men would have broken.  Remembering this makes me certain this lowlife scum can be beaten.  And so it begins; a trail that takes me to the homes of men, women and children where I see at first-hand the injuries these sick bastards gave them.  ‘I decide that I have taken just about enough of this fuckin’ scum.  This scum would sell children to paedophiles if they could make money out of it!’

There was only one thing for it…..they had to go.

The stories I heard about these people were sickening.  I thought I had seen them at their worst, but they just made me more and more determined to get my revenge on these dogs. I always get my revenge no matter what I have to do or how long it takes…’

This is the Prologue from my Best Selling book THE HYENAS a true story!

Please visit True Life Crime Books website

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 Charlie Seiga was one of the most dangerous men in Britain.  Men were murdered in and around the city of Liverpool, and many times the police marked him out as the killer.  The killings were swift, brutal and brilliantly organised.  The victims; liberty takers and sadists, were all hard bastards who dealt in the most vicious kind of violence.

He was born 1940 in Huyton, Liverpool 14.  Growing up after the war years times were hard, particularly in the late 40’s and early 50’s.  Kids went hungry and food was rationed.  Some families had to beg, steal or borrow to survive.  There seemed no way out for some kids; but Charlie found his own way out.  On a routine basis; together with his childhood gang, they did what they had to do; providing food to put on their families tables amongst other things.

IN 1952 Quote from Charlie: ‘My life of crime began after I had a vicious street-fight with another kid.  He was the local hard-case bully; he and his gang used to way lay me and my two friends.  My friends and I were good little earners at that time, and because they couldn’t make anything themselves, the hard case bully used to force us to hand over any gear that we had on us.  It was like a sort of mugging that goes on today.  He was bigger and older than me; aged 15, but I fronted him up and made a mess of him.  That gained me the respect of all the local street kids, and I became a gang leader; I was just 12 years old!’

AT THE AGE OF THIRTEEN he meets his mentor a woman of thirty-eight years old, her name is Winnie.  With Winnie, Charlie progresses further, she has him well groomed and dressed as an office boy wearing blazer and shirt and tie and she teaches him how to steal expensive diamond rings from under the noses of high class jewellers.  This was well planned out, displaying real classic cases of robberies which were highly rewarding.

IN 1954 at the age of fourteen and with his young villainous gang they committed crimes that would put a professional criminal to shame, and he became one of the richest teenagers in the city of Liverpool, where they operated from.

1955.  At fifteen years old he eventually gets caught for a jewel heist and even though he is a juvenile he still gets severely treated and interrogated.  Police methods were ruthless in those days.  He was taken outside in the freezing cold winter rain and handcuffed to a cast iron drainpipe for hours all because he refused to sign a confessed statement.  Eventually he was remanded to a juvenile remand home, where he witnessed the sexual abuse of young boys; by their carers, who liked to be called Master or Sir.  Charlie rebelled over what he had seen, and due to the subsequent uproar he caused in the remand home he was finally released on bail and, ironically, all charges against him were dropped.

Quote from Charlie:  ‘Before arriving at Woolton Vale juvenile remand home, I had heard all kinds of stories from kids on the outside about what went on there.  Some of the staff were beasts.  At night in the dormitory it would sometimes happen.  One of the staff would come in pretending he was just saying goodnight and then select one of the little kids and the filth would start.  Some of those kids were only about nine or ten years old.  The beatings I witnessed were terrible too.  How these people got these jobs was beyond me.  Those days, forty-five years ago, everything was ‘hushed up’ and it would be twenty years before the outside world faced up to the problem and accepted that for decades it had been the kids telling the truth and the wardens and staff who had been lying.  I knew then that nobody would believe the kids if they complained.  I was fortunate nobody tried anything on me…maybe it was because I was bigger and older and could handle myself.’

1956; aged sixteen Charlie turned more and more into a young gangster; but a gangster with a difference.  One who will grow to live by his code of honour.  He hates women beaters and child molesters.  His presence becomes a constant challenge to the lowlife that prey on those who cannot defend themselves.

1957, at the age of seventeen he mastered the art of safe blowing; which at the time was considered the pinnacle of excellence amongst the top criminal fraternity; and they gave him their respect.  He was eventually arrested and remanded to an adult prison.   As the crime was serious and high profile; high-ranking police officers from different parts of the country where safe-blowing crimes had taken place, came to interrogate him, (which in those days, was very severe), but he refused their requests to talk.

At the High Court in the city of Chester, he stood charged with this serious offence.  The right honourable Mr Justice Castles; who presided over his case, was quoted as saying: ‘He is like a young lion who had tasted his first blood.’  But through a legal and a technical point at the trial, the seventeen year old Charlie Seiga walked out of the court free, and made history for being the youngest safe-blower in Great Britain!

In 1964 at twenty-two years of age, he served a prison sentence of two years in Walton Prison, Liverpool.  It was alleged he was dangerously armed with a shot gun; it is said he kept a gang of men including a police officer at bay, whilst his gang escaped.

QUOTE FROM CHARLIE: ‘To be honest when I entered the prison I had acquired a massive reputation, it gained me respect amongst the top cons, so with a bit of pull here and there I was given a cushy job.’

He was appointed work on the prison reception.  One of his duties was to serve meals to the last person in Britain to be hanged!  He recalls seeing the condemned prisoner (his name was Allen) arriving back from court having been sentenced to death, being taken to the condemned cell, and being the last person to speak to him.

QUOTE FROM CHARLIE; ‘I remember saying to Allen “You’ll be ok, you’ll get your reprieve.”  He seemed confident because six months before; a man named Masters was in the same condemned cell and he got reprieved.  Also at that time in 1964 capital punishment was about to be abolished.’

Allen though was unlucky…he was hanged!

On the morning of the hanging all the prisoners in Walton Prison went from uproar to complete silence.  We all knew that he was dead.  After about an hour all our cells were unlocked; a friend of mine who was a cleaner told me he had been ordered to clean out the condemned cell; he told me it had been in a terrible mess there were blood stains on the walls and some of the furniture was broken.  Later on one of the screws told us that Allen had put up a ferocious fight.  I believe what used to happen was that if the condemned man struggled or tried to resist there would be a gang of screws as a back-up, who also assisted the hangman.

IN THE LATE 1960’S AND 70’S Charlie became one of the most successful villains of his time.  Police believed he was the brains behind the major firms involved in bank raids, wage snatches armed robberies and other serious crimes involving hundreds of thousands of pounds, but they remained unable to convict him; he became known as the ‘Houdini’ of the criminal underworld.

IN THE 1980’S AND 90’S, crime had rapidly changed, the old school type gangster had almost disappeared, a new breed of criminal had emerged; and the vast majority of these became ruthless in their activities.  The gun became; and still is, the weapon of choice.  Gangster wars had broken out amongst the criminal fraternity!

IN 1998 he went on trial for murder; he was accused of pumping three bullets into the head of one of these new lowlife breeds.  He had also been questioned over other killings which were swift, brutal and brilliantly organised.

QUOTE FROM CHARLIE:  ‘It is quite true that I have been accused of killing other men and questioned about unsolved contract killings; the Liverpool Murder Squad; in their eyes still believe I was responsible. But they are wrong. ’

QUOTE FROM THE TRIAL JUDGE:  ‘This is a classic case of a contract killing.’ 

He was acquitted.  No one has ever been convicted of the murder.


Regina V Charles

Particulars in Support of Reg. 9 (5) (B)

This was all in all as gruelling and hard-fought a murder trial as any I can remember in my 27 years at the criminal bar, in which time I have defended in literally dozens of important murder trials.  This was a trial which demanded long hours of preparation at nights, weekends and in the early mornings in my hotel room to prepare for cross examination.

It was a dramatic and even a thrilling case.  Nobody present will ever forget its atmosphere or the scenes of pandemonium in the public gallery which accompanied the final not guilty verdict.

This trial lasted 19 working days in all and I have to say I underestimated both its length and factual difficulties at the outset.  This was, in summary, in the very top league of contested murder trials in this country.

Jonathan Goldberg



Liverpool Police Force 1998

Charles Antony Seiga – D.O.B. 7/4/1940

Charlie Seiga had a reputation for being a violent character.  Intelligence was constantly being received of shootings being perpetrated by this man, but rarely would anyone come forward to complain about him.

He was known to be a careful planner and always seemed to provide a back door for himself when he knew he was to be arrested.  He would often disappear after such events, and when the heat died down, would calmly walk into a police station and give himself up, knowing full well that the complaint had either been withdrawn or that the complainant, through fear, had been bought off.

He would vent his violence on other criminals who harmed or tried to bully his family or friends.

Having left the police force and now retired, it came as no surprise to me when I read about Seiga being arrested for a contract killing.  How he got out of that one I do not know, and the secret of that job, along with many others, will no doubt be carried with him to his grave.  The police are not looking for anyone else in relation to this matter and, in my experience; they must be more than satisfied that they had the correct man in the dock.

He was commonly known as Charlie Seiga, but we had another name for him – Killer!

Charlie Seiga became the longest reigning gangster in Great Britain; stretching from the 50’s right up to the late 90’s.  He retired from a life of crime a few years ago; he is now reformed and is a successful crime writer.


Charlie ‘Killer’ Seiga   ‘Forthcoming Events’

(Saturday 22 March 2014)

It’s been a busy couple of weeks.  Channel 5 asked me to take part in a documentary.

The production company are ‘TwoFour’ they are responsible for the BAFT winning programme called ‘Educating Yorkshire’ and the recently aired documentary ‘Harry’s South Pole Heroes’.

There is a six part series of one hour programmes due to be shown in the next six weeks.  The topic is gun crime and the two cities they focus on are Liverpool and Birmingham.

They wanted a view point from both sides of the tracks and following talks with the Chief of Merseyside Police on the subject and after following and filming the police out on house raids they wanted the opinion from the other side of the tracks.

This is where I came in.   They wanted to talk to me about the history of crime in the city from the 1950s right up to the present day.

They were interested in how things had changed over the years and how the use of guns had now come into use even on the streets of the suburbs surrounding the city of Liverpool.

The word ‘gangster’ has very different connotations these days.  It no longer applies as it did to the ‘old school’ bank robber etc. active in the 1950s up to the 1980s.

A ‘gangster’ in those days was a man who was respected amongst his community, a man who would look after the good people in his neighbourhood.

We talked about the distinct differences between the past and present; the present very much being guns and drugs.

The so called ‘gangsters’ of today are low life characters who have no morals or empathy at all.

They are unscrupulous in their dealings and have no problem ruin young lives, corrupting the youth of today.

These perpetrators shoot indiscriminately in their communities where ordinary, law abiding, decent people have been injured and some actually killed!

The production company did some filming out and about in the city then they interviewed me at home in the off where I accomplish much of my writing.

They have assured me that they will stress in the edit that I am now a reformed character and am no longer involved in crime.

The first episode of these programmes is due to be shown on Channel 5 in about five weeks time.

I will keep OTS posted the date and time as soon as I have it confirmed!


Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 9 Television Documentary ‘BRITAIN’S CRIME CAPITALS’

I was recently contacted by ‘Twofour’ productions who are the company responsible for the BAFTA award winning series ‘Educating Yorkshire.’

They asked if I would be willing to meet with them to discuss Liverpool crime, particularly gun crime.

They explained that they wanted to make comparisons between the way things were in my day as opposed to how things are today.

At the meeting I agreed to take part in the documentary and within a week a cameraman/interviewer and his assistant came to Liverpool to film and record an interview.

First of all they had me walking around the city centre whilst they asked various questions regarding bank robberies and wage snatches.

I explained that I was not trying to justify myself or the part I may have played in this kind of crime but I did want to stress that no ordinary man or woman in the street was ever hurt during any of the crimes.

We only took from the big companies and those who could afford it.

During recording I explained that there was a vast difference between our kind of crime and the crime of today.

Gun crime is happening virtually every day on some of the council estates around the fringes of Liverpool where criminals are shooting other criminals.

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Pictured above: Early days Southport connections-Johnny Rodwell (middle) Bobby Cato (right)

However, I don’t want to put people off visiting our vibrant city of Liverpool as it is amongst the safest cities in England.

I wanted to point out that if a person was shot years ago the perpetrator would be described as a ‘professional contract killer’ and for their service they would receive a large amount of cash.

Nowadays though, you’ve got these criminals blasting away at each other and some of those higher up the ladder would recruit young kids to do this for a mere pittance.

They are unprofessional and some of them are committing these crimes for buttons; more often than not they would do it for just a bag of gear (drugs).

However, that’s their way of life; and if they want to go ahead bumping one another off with guns so be it.

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Pictured above: Charlie takes time out with Paul Rodwell in the Vincent Hotel, Southport.

After all, these street criminals, often drugged up, are only settling scores amongst themselves so as long as no ordinary man, woman, child or any innocent bystanders get hurt who cares if they do kill one another…I don’t!

Towards the end of interview I described in detail what had happened at the time I was about to be executed by some of these scum bags.

I also pointed out that this gang had made a big mistake in not killing me.  In fact this was to prove their downfall.

I always get my revenge on scumbags… no matter how long it takes or what I have to do to get it!

During the interview I tried to explain how the way things are today compare to how things were in my era.

I’ve had no part in the final edit of this documentary so what concerns me is the way this has been done.

The way an interview is edited can result in what you have actually said being totally misconstrued.

The editor may have cut out all of the things I tried to make a point about and so I could be completely misrepresented.

If this is the case I will be very, very, disappointed; especially if they have me portrayed me in a negative way.

Therefore, this is in the hands of the editor due to me having no involvement in the final edit!

As of the 12th April 2014.

Charlie Seiga

The first episode of a brand new series of documentaries called:

‘BRITAIN’S CRIME CAPITALS’ which begins on Monday on Channel 5 at 9pm.

EPISODE 1 – LIVERPOOL (Monday 14th April)



30th April 2014

I am writing this blog today to highlight the case of Nathan Kenny, a clean living young man who has never been in trouble before but is about to be put on trial for taking the life of a known paedophile, child abuser and woman beater.

This blog is to ask for the support of as many people as possible to attend the court during Nathan’s trial to add voices to ours in protest of the case brought against him.

The paedophile Michael Fennah, was a known offender, a low life who had a history of paedophilia and child abuse.

Nathan and his sister were just very young innocent children when they were subjected to disgusting and depraved sexual abuse at the hands of Michael Fennah.

They were just children and unable fight back.  The details are too harrowing to divulged, but to follow is an extract from a recent email that Nathan’s family sent to me recently.

Incidentally, whilst supporting her young son this loyal and clean living lady is terminally ill with cancer and as well as the anxiety of her son being in prison on remand for murder she is enduring some very serious surgical operations.

God only knows what this poor woman and her young son are going through; one with not long to live and the other could be facing at life imprisonment.

This is from a recently received email:

‘We are going through such a difficult time at the moment and my poor sister, Nathan’s mum, has cancer.

Nathan is a kind, caring young man, whom we all love and adore and we are with him every step of the way.

That beast (Michael Fennah) sexually abused young Nathan and my sister many times over.

Other women have also come forward to tell us that he did the same to them and their children too.

I’m glad the horrible man is dead but Nathan doesn’t deserve this.

If I could I would have killed him myself!  What Nathan did was not premeditated at all but Michael Fennah would not leave us alone. He tormented me and my family for twenty years; I wouldn’t even go shopping alone.  We were all terrified of him!

Thank-you again for your help, it’s so kind and we are glad to know that you’re behind us.’

Let’s face it… these days, child molesting paedophiles appear to be on the increase and when some of these are arrested and charged they end up walking free from court due to the victim’s evidence not being strong enough or some loophole found by the lowlife’s lawyer.

Many of the bizzies (police) who have arrested these paedophiles are frustrated at the lack of justice being done.  Often, it is said that there is a lack of strong evidence against the lowlife which makes it difficult for the charges to stick they have to watch as they walk free from the courts.

They themselves, especially those policemen and women with young children, find it very difficult to stomach seeing the beasts the walking free from our courts.

At one point a newspaper headline stated that a young man had run over his father in a car the point is it wasn’t his father it was his step father who was an evil paedophile the very one who was committing violence and sexual acts on him and his two sisters.

At first, I myself thought when reading the article in the paper that was a bit heavy a young man running over his father but then when it all came out in the open was that it was an evil

I’m not condoning what young Nathan did but let’ s not forget that this is a young man who is facing a life sentence for the murder of this evil paedophile who ruined young Nathan’s life and many others.

A man who bullied and abused children and those who could not defend themselves and who’s childhoods were taken from them and destroyed.

If it was my child who had been molested or raped by one of these depraved paedophiles I would take the law into my own hands and give them the justice they deserve.

This beast Michael Fennah is now dead, and I for one am glad!

Again, I ask that if any of you feel strongly about this injustice and are able to attend court to support this young man and his poor family it would be very much appreciated.

I also intend to have a journalist attend to report on the protest and the court case.  The pre-trial is on 6th May 2014 and the trial begins on 12th May 2014.

I would be grateful for any support given and will keep you posted on developments.

Thank you,

Charlie Seiga  


‘Real Justice has been done’ Says Charlie Seiga  Weekly BLOG 11

16th May 2014

Absolutely brilliant news that Nathan Kenny’s sentence is only to be 3 years which means he should be back with his family in 12 months.

Nathan Kenny, aged 33, appeared at Liverpool Crown Court charged with the murder of 52-year-old Mike Fennah on December 17th 2013.

Mr Fennah was knocked down by a silver Renault Megane in Scott Avenue, Whiston, not far from his home and died from head injuries.

Credit to the Judge who has shown common sense and empathy with regard to abuse and violence Nathan suffered as a young boy at the hands of the paedophile Michael Fennah.

I didn’t attend the courtroom myself in person as I didn’t want my past record to influence anything in a negative way for Nathan. However, I was represented by friends and acquaintances and would like to thank the 2,700 facebook followers who gave their support over this case.

Real justice has been done! My best wishes to Nathan and his family and friends. They can now get on with their lives and in the knowledge that many of you people out there have been on their side.

Thank you all again.

Charlie Seiga 

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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 12  A crime which I respect…

8th June 2014

Currently standing trial at Liverpool Crown Court are a gang of modern day safebreakers who used explosives to blow open the cash machines (safes) outside a number of High Street banks in Liverpool and up and down the country.  They stole close to two million quid.  To me these men appear to be professional young men who are highly organised.  This is a crime I respect as historically I was doing it myself!

The reason that I have the greatest respect for the safe robbers currently on trial is primarily that there were no guns used; there were no killings or any violence at all, therefore none of the public got hurt.  The only people hurt were the people who owned the banks… the wealthy bank owners… and let’s face it how many wealthy bank owners have robbed from us; the poor in recent years?

Incidentally, the gang are from my home town of Huyton.

As stated, I take my hat off to these young men.  After all, isn’t it much better than the crimes committed by the low life scum of today such as mugging old people, committing violence against women and children and peddling drugs to youths?  At least these men have not stooped to anything like this which is why they have my admiration.

It’s funny how history has repeated itself and it s vividly brought it all back to me.  I was a seventeen year old kid with a gang of older men; including my older brother, who robbed banks up and down the country using high explosives.  The crime when committed in those days of 1957 up to the early 60’s was called safe-blowing.  Our explosives were gelignite and detonators.  Like many a professional criminal, in the game we chose to be in and the game that this modern day gang are now in, a grave mistake can be made and that mistake is to underestimate the bizzies (police).  Some of them are clever bastards too and through the use of modern techniques and devices available to them today they came up with the idea of using a tracking device bug planted inside a number of wall safes which were likely to be targeted by the safe-robbers.  Obviously this lead to their downfall as they were traced back to their slaughter (where they money is chopped up) and their ‘tools of the trade’ were found there too.

As aforementioned, these men are currently on trial at Liverpool Crown Court.  Bearing in mind that no one was hurt whilst these crimes were being carried out, (and they were very professional moves that these men did) the sentences they receive will be very heavy… and why?  All due to the fact that this country values money more highly that a life; even the life of a child!

Their sentences will be nothing like the low sentences dished out for the mugging of old people, for the rape and murder of women and children or for paedophilia.  How many times have we heard of the meagre sentences these low life scumbags are given.  These will be no comparison to the long sentences the safe robbers will receive for their crime.

Purely coincidental timing but, my latest book ‘The Jelly Gang’ has just been released as an eBook for kindle on Amazon.  ‘The Jelly Gang’ is what we were called all those years ago and is a true story based on safe robbers of the 1950’s and early 1960’s.  There are similarities between us and these modern day professional safe robbers with regard to the methods and explosives used etc.  What a coincidence… and not only that but, some of these young men come from the same place I was born and bred and from where myself and our circle operated all those years ago… Huyton, Liverpool 14!

Charlie Seiga

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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 13 “A TASTE OF A PAVEMENT JOB WITH A 3.8 JAGUAR CAR”20th July 20141959.  Liverpool city centre.  “Smash and grabs were all the rage in the late fifties and my friends and I targeted not just Liverpool but other major cities too.”Picture the scene:It’s night-time about three in the morning, a Jaguar with three men inside; Charlie Seiga and two friends: Joey and John.  John is at the wheel.The car is cruising down a long major road which boasts quality stores such as high-class jewellers and desirable furriers.  The Jaguar drives almost to one end of the street and does a three point turn, there are two policemen on foot patrol about 80 yards away.  The Jaguar drives away out of sight to the far end of the street where two more policemen are on foot patrol.  Again the Jaguar does a three-point turn and heads back to the centre of the street.  Inside Joey says, “We’ve got two bizzies (policemen) at each end of the street, do you think it will be ok.”  “Look Joe the bizzies are on foot, we can have it away before they can get anywhere near us.” Replies Charlie.The Jaguar accelerates and then suddenly pulls-up with the engine still running and half mounted onto the pavement outside the jewellers.Charlie quickly gets out of the car wearing industrial gloves and wielding a twelve-pound sledgehammer.Joey gets out holding two 18 inch wooden pieces of railway sleeper.  (The sleeper was to prevent the grill dropping that sometimes was activated when the window broke, to stop bandits robbing the jewellery).ots-charlie killer seiga car jaguar southport ots onthespot ots quickly caves in the shop window and Joey at the same time throws the two blocks inside onto the display counter.  “Come on Joey there’s no grill!”  Charlie is holding a shallow cardboard box butted up to the window frame and Joey starts scraping the jewellery into the box with unfortunately, shards of the broken glass windowJohn revs the car engine and shouts, “Hurry up; the bizzies are on their way.”  Two policemen are running towards the car with their batons drawn, one is blowing a whistle.Joey takes no notice and carries on with his work.  Charlie says, “Ok Joey let’s do one!”  “Hang on there’s more at the back, look Charlie”  replies Joey.Charlie says “I know but let’s fuck off; those bizzies are getting a bit too close.”  John is screaming, “Come on for fucks sake, come on.”  Joey throws the box into the back seat and gets in and Charlie gets in the passenger seat.  The police are only a few yards in front of the car, they are  spread out trying to block escape.  John drives right at them but jams on the brakes pulling up just two meters away from hitting them.Quote from Charlie:  ‘John was very sensible, in fact we all were, we didn’t want to run over a policeman and kill him; that would have been murder!

One of the bizzies throws his baton at the windscreen.  John puts the car into reverse but the other bizzie grabs Charlie’s door handle.  John reverses fast but the bizzie holds on; eventually letting go and falling to the ground.  He narrowly misses the front wheels.  Charlie says, “Go forward again, they’ll cut us off going the other way out.”  The Jaguar screeches forward but the other bizzie jumps into its path.  John brakes hard, screeching to a halt again.  The policeman grabs the silver Jaguar bonnet crest and keeps hold, not budging.  Charlie shouts, “Back up again and swerve him off it.”  The Jaguar reverses fast swerving at the same time making the bizzie let go.  The car speeds away out of sight.

Quote from Charlie:  ‘In those days the police had some bottle… but then thinking about it they were just plain fucking stupid, almost getting themselves killed.  Speed was of the essence and crucial in doing this type of work.  Having a high performance car like the 3.8 Jaguar saved us on many occasion.  Thinking back all those years ago; we were just three young kids who lived in , the fast lane and wanted a taste of the high life….but I wouldn’t  recommend it to anybody!

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which can be bought online on  or my website:  or call on 07539 460 997 to order your copies….


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8th August 2014

There have been many rumours and stories over the years and much said in the press about the last man to be hanged in Britain; but what you are about to read here is absolutely true…

I was a young man of twenty three years old serving a sentence in Walton Prison in 1964.

Capital Punishment was still in force at that time and I met two men (murderers) who were sentenced to death by hanging at Walton Prison Liverpool.

The first man was called Joseph Masters who was in the condemned cell awaiting execution, he had an appeal going on at the time and was hoping to be reprieved by the Home Office.

Once a prisoner’s appeal has been granted by the Home Office, (no matter what time of day or night) he is immediately taken from the condemned cell and down to the reception; which is where I worked in the prison at that time.  There he would change his clothes and then be put in another cell on one of the ordinary wings.  Here he would serve a life sentence instead of hanging.

Joseph Masters did get reprieved; it was mid-night when the notification came through and another prisoner and I were woken up and taken down to reception to process him and give him his change of clothes.  I said to Masters at the time, ‘God I bet you’re made up that you’re not going to be hanged.’  I remember him yawning and stretching in reception and complaining at the disallowance of his cigarettes.  Here was a man; who had just been saved from the death penalty and all he could do was moan on about losing the little luxuries he had been allowed in the condemned cell.  I just don’t understand what makes a man like him tick…to me the man was a right head case.  In the end I had no sympathy for him; after all he had killed an elderly man over something petty.

A short time later; infact it was only about two or three months later another prisoner came in who had also been convicted of murder.  Again I was working on reception at the prison and was ordered to carry his food to him at meal times.

He was called Peter Anthony Allen. I vividly remember walking in complete silence, flanked by two screws, as I carried a tray of food to Allen’s cell.  Allen’s court case was on going at the time so he hadn’t been sentenced to death yet.

Once a prisoner has been found guilty by a judge and jury and sentenced to death he is immediately taken to the ‘condemned cell’ and no one can get near him then.

One of the guards unlocked Allen’s cell door and I walked in with his meal.  I remember that last conversation I had with him.  I said to him, ‘You won’t hang, they are about to abolish it.  These were my last words to him.  He was hanged shortly after so I never saw him again.

The only time any of us saw Allen was when he was walking around the exercise yard.  He looked a solemn figure, alone except for the prison guards who had escorted him there.  The prison exercise yard was a large walled quadrangle which was surrounded on four sides by the prison building.  This housed at least half of the prisoner population.  Therefore, the prisoners who, like myself, had a cell window overlooking the yard were able to see him as he took his exercise.  It was strange watching him and knowing that soon he would be going to his death.

When occasionally, some of our mates in there would get very depressed about serving their time, all we would have to do to console them was remind them of how it could be so much worse… they could be as unfortunate as Allen who was going to be hanged very soon.

A week before the hanging there was a meeting between some of the prisoners; the talk amongst us was of crashing Allen out of his cell so he could escape.  I was asked for my opinion by one of the top villains, Jimmy London; who was a mate of mine at the time.  I said to him and the other prisoners gathered there that it was a waste of time for him to escape as he wouldn’t make it to the outside.  Crash him out of his cell by all means but then I would give him a blade, that way he could take his own life.  He could end it quickly if he cut his jugular; it would be over in minutes.

In my opinion I think hanging is degrading; at least if he took his own life he would die with a bit of dignity.  It was a crazy pointless idea we had, and one that never got off the ground.  Just before the hanging took place the prison went from being deathly silent to a loud uproar of screaming and banging from the convicts who were all locked in their cells.

Shortly after, Allen was hanged.  It was 8am and he was the last man to be executed in Walton Jail; and in Britain.’

About an hour after the execution all of our cells were unlocked and a pal of mine, who was the cleaner on our prison wing, told me and a few other friends that he had been given the task of cleaning out the condemned cell.  He went on to say that the cell was in a terrible mess; there had been blood stains on the walls and some of the furniture in there was broken.  Later, one of the prison screws told us that Allen had put up a terrible fight, but obviously to no avail as there was always a gang of screws on hand as back-up who would assisted the hangman in restraining the prisoner.

PS:  I did find out later that the murder he committed with another guy was on  somebody defenceless; a vulnerable old man and the way I look at it…fuck him he deserved what he got.  I hate lowlife scum!

When the truth began to emerge at Allen’s trial I and quite a few of my friends lost a lot of sympathy for him.  Firstly, in court he and his co-accused; a fella called Evans who was hanged in Manchester at the same time as Allen, blamed each other for the murder.

In my opinion they turned out to be two rats, as the man whom they murdered was, in comparison to them, a defenceless and vulnerable old man.  So the way we looked at it; they deserved what they got!

I was inspired to write this blog after reading a piece in the Liverpool Echo on Tuesday of this week by Paddy Shennan.  The article was about the hanging of Peter Anthony Allen, the last man to be hanged in Walton Jail, Liverpool.  He was reporting on a story by Liverpool City Council’s Historian, Steve Bins.  There were inaccuracies in his report, but then, how would this man know the details of Allen’s hanging… he wasn’t there.  I was!

Charlie Seiga.

This story and more are to be found in my internationally bestselling autobiography ‘KILLER’.

Visit my website at:

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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 15  ‘This is the amended epilogue from my first international bestselling book KILLER….’

August 16th 2014

Throughout my life as an active villain, gangster or whatever else the police and press have labelled me, my first priority was to have money, and when I say money, I mean plenty of it. In my opinion, money is a very powerful thing. It can enable you to have practically anything you desire. Some people say that money cannot buy love or bring happiness, but my answer to that is, ‘give me a couple of million and I will show you just how happy it can make you.’

Ever since my youth, I craved the good things that life could offer, beautiful women, nice cars, good clothing, expensive jewellery, lavish holidays and, most importantly, a nice house, home and family. I would never have been able to have achieved or sampled these lovely things without money.

However, money does not come easily, and it was never just handed to me on a plate. I went out and committed some of the most serious offences and crimes in the country in order to have money; armed robberies on banks, security vans, hijacking lorries, safe breaking and many other serious crimes. I did it all, but at times it was a terrifying business. It certainly was not glamorous and I never got a kick out of it or excitement from it all. In fact, for me, it was the reverse. In a way, it was a means of support as well as a gamble. Every time I did one of those armed blags I was taking a risk and gambling. In fact, I was gambling with my life; my young life at that.

I was always fully aware that, if I was captured, then I would be facing a long time in prison – twenty years at least – or worse, still, I could have been ambushed by the armed-response police and been shot dead.

As I have previously stated, nowadays, if I was still at it (meaning into crime), I think I would find it difficult in comparison to how it used to be. I would just like to say to these young villains, and by that I am not referring to or talking about the low-life, degenerate scum and perverts who abuse women and children and hurt the innocent. Those types of pricks can go and fuck themselves. I am talking about the young villains of today who do still have decent qualities and principles of respect, which they have adopted from the old-school way of crime. Yes, these types of young grafters still do exist although there are not as many of them now, and it is to those kids that I would say, ‘before you go down that road, have a good think about it, because personally I think that these days the Police seem to have it all boxed off.’

Just look at the sophisticated computer systems and equipment that they have today, helicopters, high-tech cameras, armed-response teams and advanced forensics; such as DNA testing. They even have sensitive listening devices and bugging systems, as well as tracking devices; and these are only some of the things you are aware of. Police technology is far more advanced today. To sum it all up, in my opinion it is the end of an era.

The other side of my criminal life involved violence. I had to deal with violence along the way, I have never wanted it, but when it came, I had no choice but to use it and to use it in the best way I knew how. I have had many street fights throughout my life, and in some of those I have come off best and then there have been others where I have come badly unstuck and have myself taken some terrible beatings; but, then again, I have never professed or claimed to be a hard case. There is no shame or embarrassment if a man loses a fight. At least he can hold his head up high and say that he has had a go. You can always go back and have a straightener, but these days that is a very rare occurrence and in my opinion, straighteners do not exist anymore.

Everybody in and around the city of Liverpool who knows me will back me up when I say that I have never deliberately or intentionally gone out of my way and picked a fight with anybody. There have been many occasions when I have walked away from somebody with whom I have been arguing with over something trivial, such as getting pushed in a queue or a disagreement with another driver in a car. In these circumstances or situations, I have always been the one to apologise first; but do not misunderstand me, if a person went too far and took my apology as a sign of weakness instead of manners, or even if they overstepped the mark by laying their hands on me, then in my younger days, I would have defended myself to the hilt.

One thing I have always believed is that nobody, no matter who they are, should ever underestimate a person’s capabilities. Appearances, as they say, can be deceptive. And once you have a reputation, no matter what it is for, it is very hard to shake off.

I am fully aware that certain people and authorities have used this fact in order to associate me with a whole range of crimes. If I were to list everything I have ever done or been involved in or charged with, believe me, the list would be endless.

Again, do not misunderstand me, I am no angel and I was obviously involved in a wide range of criminal activities for a long time. During my life I have been charged with using and being in possession of firearms, as well as many other offensive and dangerous weapons. You name them, I have used them. I have also been charged for GBH several times, as well as threats to kill, attempted murders and murder. There have been numerous occasions when I was been questioned in relation to murders, which have been committed in and around the Liverpool and northwest area.

I can even go back to the early seventies when the murder squad came to see me over a killing which had taken place in Cumbria; a man was found dead in one of the lakes up there with both of his hands severed from his body.  I have been taken to court and charged with the aforementioned offences but the only convictions I have are three GBHs, the last of them being in 1966 when I was given a three year jail sentence of which I served two.  It was for violence against three police officers and the only violence that was committed against one of these police officers was three stitches in his little finger… now can you really call that a bad injury as a result of a serious act of violence?  Did it really warrant the sentence that was handed down to me?  I was given a year for each stitch.  If that wasn’t an injustice then I don’t know what is!

And why have I never been convicted of these aforementioned offences? Well, it’s because a Liverpool jury has always believed in my innocence. But the Police on the other hand, have not and never will.

I am also aware that various people have branded me a killer. I would like to state that I am not a psychopath and would not get a thrill out of killing somebody just for the sake of it. I am not a callous or cold-blooded person. I too have feelings. I love my children and family and my true friends. However, I do believe that nearly every one of us, especially men have the killer instinct inside of us.

In 1998 when I was writing my autobiography KILLER the Home Secretary, Jack Straw, was urging the public not to turn a blind eye to crimes which are being committed and to ‘have a go’, meaning that you should go to the aid of somebody who is being attacked or who is a victim of the crime itself.

I have been having a go for years, going to the aid of the defenceless old people and women who have been the victims of violence and beatings by low-life scum. It is all very well for the Home Secretary urging people to have a go, but what guarantees does he give for protection? Just supporting a person goes to help someone who is being viciously attacked, mugged or raped, and accidentally killed the low-life scumbag who is committing the offence? The police would have no hesitation in charging him with manslaughter, if not murder, even if he was protecting his own family.

Finally, I am always being asked if crime pays. Well, that is easy to sum up isn’t it? Look at all of the old gangsters. For instance, the Great Train Robbers, poor bastards; the sentences they received were inhumane.  Most of them ended up serving thirty years in prison and came out to fuck all!

Next, take say, Frankie Fraser, he has wasted almost forty years of his life behind bars, as have a fair number of his friends.

Then finally, there are the Krays, they got sent down when they were young men in their prime. They were caged up for over thirty years only to come out in boxes…dead.

Not forgetting the aforementioned had never hurt a child or a woman and yet they get these inhumane sentences.

Obviously, crime did not pay for all of these guys. Time and again you will hear the same old reasons or excuses, the ‘what ifs…’ and ‘but if only…’. Maybe it could have paid for all of these old villains, but they were all careless or made major mistakes somewhere along the line, like we all do sometimes.

To put your trust in somebody is a very big risk to take. It was true in those days and is even more so nowadays. I did, and came very badly unstuck. I was enticed and tricked from my home in broad daylight, then ambushed in a house by a gang of young drug-crazed scum. I was held for two days and tortured. But my ordeal was fuck all compared to what these perverted, sick bastards did to the ordinary, inoffensive families around the city – but that is another story!

Charlie Seiga

Huyton, Liverpool, 2002


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 16 ‘TORTURED’

August 24th 2014

Some time ago I was accused of killing a lowlife gang member.  Subsequently, I was cunningly enticed into one of their squalid dens of iniquity….

‘I was in constant pain.

Photo above: This facial photo shows a knife wound inflicted when Charlie was threatened that both his eyes would be cut out.

My back had been bitten and torn by one of those crazy animals, he had ripped off my shirt and began biting into my back, laughing hysterically, trying to tear chunks out of me as though he was a mad dog.

They were all young, in their twenties, and I was approaching sixty, I had no chance against them.

Boiling water had slowly been poured over parts of my body and the skin was blistering and peeling off.  I was screaming in agony and cursing them at the same time.

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Photo above:  The scalding burns on Charlie’s lower anatomy were they poured boiling water over him.

I thought they had finished torturing me but then they strapped me tightly to a chair.  The blood was running down my face from the knife wound which they had inflicted on me when threatening to cut my eyes out.   This blood blurred my vision as it ran into my eyes resulting in me only being able to half open them.  One of the lowlifes whose name was Lea started to laugh then he shouted to me, ‘how do ya like that eh?  You’re not a big fuck off gangster now are ya?’

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Photo above: Vicious bite marks from where one of those sick bastards tried to rip lumps out of Charlie’s back whilst laughing like a hyena.

He sneered and turned to one of the others, ‘give him the needle.  That’ll shut him up.’

The gang member he spoke to was a physical wreck of a man.  His skin looked like it would drop off his face if he touched it.

When this gaunt scumbag disappeared out of the room I realised this was serious; I believed he was fetching me a needle for heroin.

A moment or two later he returned to this torture room and with my eyes still blurred I could make out his thin and gaunt figure with sunken eyes slowly coming towards me.

Blinking continually to clear the blood from my eyes I opened them wider and the picture of him became clearer, he had a silly smile on his drugged up face and he spoke in a strange and weird voice to another one of the gang.

‘Hold his arm out for me.’  He turned to me then and spoke to me in a soft voice with the silly, stoned smile still on his face.

‘Come on Charlie, after you’ve been boxed you’re gonna feel great.’

I tried to recoil away from him; I had regained my senses now and was panicking.  I shouted at him.   ‘Don’t put that filthy thing in me.’

As one of the gang was holding my arm tight I could see this smackhead was going to shoot the dirty needle into my arm.

Now I really started to panic.  He brought the needle closer.

I started to struggle with what strength I had left but with the other one holding my arm tight I just couldn’t move and the smackhead was smiling wider than ever now as he was about to shoot the dirty needle into my arm.

I shout out, ‘ok, ok, I’ll make the call.  I said I’ll make the call.’

I had finally given in to these beasts.  Let’s face it, who wouldn’t?

I am certain that if I hadn’t given in to them, they would have injected my body full of heroin and that was the one thing I couldn’t handle.

The thought of a dirty needle, which could be contaminated with AIDS, entering my body, made me much more nauseous than the beating and scalding I had already received.

Nearly two days had passed since that perverted, sick bastard, Lea and the rest of that lowlife scum had mutilated my body.

“Charlie, we respect you as a man,” said one of them ominously.  ‘But you know who we are.’  He had a gun in his hand.  I immediately knew this was the end, they were ready to kill me!”

But their big mistake was not killing me…. I always get my revenge in the end, no matter what I have to do or how long it takes!

This is a true story as told in my book ‘The Hyenas’
Available from:  www.True Life Crime,
And on:  iTunes, Kobo, Amazon kindle and
And from:  Waterstones


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 17 ‘VIGILANTE JUSTICE’

31st August 2014

This story is about myself, John and three friends of mine; Steve, Carl and Chris.  The four of us formed a close knit circle to sort out the low life scum on our council estate where the streets had become lawless.  Marauding gangs were committing the most violent acts imaginable including rapes and violence on the elderly.  There were also attacks on family homes.  Unfortunately, a lot of decent people have to live amongst all this and it had become an unbearable existence for them.

That’s why my friends and I decided that the lowlife scum who terrorised the women, kids and elderly people should be terrorised themselves but we took it a lot further than that; the justice we inflicted on the degenerates was swift and brutal.  We actually sherriffed our own community and became known as Vigilantes.

If you wonder why a man would choose to take the path I did getting myself involved in the most brutal of violence, then maybe when you have read this excerpt from my story you might understand.

It all started when a friend of a friend who was asking us for our help had approached Steve and me.  Some woman’s ten-year-old daughter had been brutally raped.  Now if we were to capture this animal I knew I would be putting him in a really bad way.  So I didn’t want to put myself and the rest of our circle on offer; meaning us being identified.  This then put us all in an awkward position because none of us could afford to see the woman to get the full score from her. It was then decided that Carl, who had a friend that knew the woman personally would be doing the negotiating with the mother.  The information about the paedophile would be relayed back to our unit.

To begin with, we were told the paedophile had at first started grooming the girl, it then led on to him intimidating her with all kinds of threats, just so he could have his own way with her.

According to a psychiatrist‘s medical report; which had been read out to the court, the beast had done the most unimaginable filth to the child, which is too sickening to describe.

She was now under constant medication and not only was her little body ruined but her young mind was completely messed up too.

This animal was about to stand trial for rape, but the evidence against him was very weak.  He had been very clever, like most paedophiles are, whilst carrying out these monstrous acts.

He had left no traces of D.N.A. the only evidence the police had against him was the little girls statement, but would that stand up in court?  Would it fuck!

This animal was going to walk free from court and escape justice… or so he thought.

I ask Carl, “What about the girl’s father?  Why hasn’t he done something about this? I mean if it was my child I would not hesitate, I wouldn’t think twice about the consequences. I would just kill the bastard there and then even if it meant me doing a life sentence.”

After I had calmed down a bit, Carl said to me,

“John he was the girl’s father, well her step father, her real dad is dead.”

Well that says it all doesn’t it?  Don’t get me wrong I’m not saying all stepfathers are paedophiles. There are some decent men who have and do take on somebody else’s kids.

I suppose what is the hardest part for a woman is finding the right man they can trust.  Some women can be so gullible when it comes to being charmed by a very persuasive so-called gentleman.

Paedophiles are masters at that game.  Here we have a decent lady, with a little daughter, she has lost her husband, time has dragged on a bit and she has become very lonely and insecure.

What does she do?  She goes and advertises in a lonely-hearts column for some male company.

In her advert she explains in all innocence something about her background for example, she is a widow with a lovely little daughter.

Reading an advert like that is a paedophile’s dream, a great opportunity for the sick bastard.

That is what happened here, she met who she thought was a nice, charming gentleman and married him, but underneath this entire masquerade was a filthy predator who preyed on this woman’s vulnerability.

Whilst his trial was taking place Steve and I had been sitting in court watching and listening to the evidence the police had against him.

As we were listening to the court proceedings and due to the way the trial was being conducted; I knew there and then, there just wasn’t enough concrete evidence to convict.

The beast himself knew this too.  It made me sick to watch him sitting there in the dock with his suit on and all smarmy looking.

Just because of some legal argument that his lawyer had come up with, the judge directed the jury to acquit on the grounds of insufficient evidence, just like I had predicted.

He was found not guilty.  He walked out of that courtroom smiling and proclaiming to some waiting press reporters, how innocent he was.

When the paedophile’s trial was over and a few weeks had passed by, we had done all our homework on that beast.

It was now time for the unit and I to put things into action.  We already knew where he lived, he had moved into some rented accommodation.  A house just by; believe it or not, a kids school.

I had done a stake out on his house quite a few times, watching his comings and goings.  Nobody in the neighbourhood knew his identification as that was kept a secret by the ridiculous laws, which have by the way, recently been enforced just to protect the likes of that filthy beast.

The night before we went to capture him, I decided the four of us should stay in my apartment and that we should move out first thing in the morning, which would be a Monday.

By doing it this way we wouldn’t arouse any suspicion on ourselves.  It was still fairly dark at six o’clock in the morning, plus there was less activity on the roads.

We had already parked our van in the area the night before; it had all the equipment we would be using locked up inside it.

Just before we had left my apartment that Monday morning I went over everything with a fine toothcomb, with Steve, Carl and Chris.

Carl was going to do the fronting up.  He would be dressed up as policeman and ring the paedophile’s doorbell.  Hopefully he would open it, but really, there would be no problem not when he saw a uniformed policeman standing there.  Carl had played the part absolutely brilliantly that morning.  I still remember what he said to that paedophile when the front door had been opened.

“Sorry to bother you first thing in the morning sir, can I have a word?  The station has sent me around?”

“You most certainly can officer,” answered the paedo’,  “do come in.”

I had instructed Carl beforehand that the minute he gained access Steve and I would be no more than thirty seconds behind him.  I also instructed Chris that once we were inside he was to bring the van around and to back it right up the pathway to the front door of the house.  Everything went according to plan.  Steve had gone straight up the stairs to make sure no one else was in there.  The beast was sitting down with a dressing gown on holding his two hands to his face and shaking.

“Could you please tell me what all this is about?  I have done nothing wrong.”

I put my masked face up to him.  My appearance alone must have terrified him.  I spoke to him in a low menacing voice,

“You what?  You’ve done nothing wrong?  You filthy lowlife scum.

You’ve got a short memory haven’t you?  You raped a little girl!”

He moaned back to me. “She wasn’t a little girl, she was ten.  I didn’t do it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from this paedophile and this only infuriated me more.

“The judge found me not guilty.”  He went on protesting.

“Oh, I know he did,” I said to him sarcastically, “but he wasn’t a real judge now was he? I am the judge now, and do you know what?  I have just found you guilty.”

I had brought a pair of handcuffs with me and some tape.  We proceeded to handcuff him and tape his mouth up.  Steve who had been looking around upstairs had come back down carrying a cardboard box.

“Look at this!  It’s full of child porn, that dirty fucker is still at it.”

I told Steve to leave it all in there, but then I changed my mind and we put some of the photographs in the pockets of his dressing gown.

“Let the bizzies find all this.”  I said.

We quickly bundled him into the back of the van and drove towards the school, which was only about thirty yards down the road.

The gates were open when we got there and it was still fairly dark.  Chris drove the van inside the school grounds pulling up a little out of view from the main road.

We then dragged the animal out of the van, I told Steve not to damage his face or head, just to break every limb in his body.

We began beating him unmercifully with wooden pickaxe handles, his body was a heap on the floor when we had finished, and it was completely broken.

I though took the punishment a step further, I went to the van and pulled out our tool bag, and from it I took out an old blowtorch.  I lit it and then I proceeded to burn his dick off and the rest of his anatomy underneath.  Carl and Chris turned away, but I couldn’t control myself.  I thought about what this beast had done to that baby girl.  Who knows, it’s possible he might have done it to other kids in the past.  This then drove me on to mutilate him more.  Carl came over to me with his hand clasped to his mouth.  I will admit it was all getting a bit messy.

“John, John!”  He said, “Stop it that’s enough.”

He tried to pull me away.  I stopped what I was doing and stood up.

The animal was completely ruined.  I thought, ‘Fuck him!   He won’t be raping any more babies ever again’.  I walked away from the heap of mess on the floor.

Carl then sort of apologised, to me.  He told me it was making him sick from the smell and everything else.

“Ok, let’s forget about it all.”   I said to him.

The next move I had planned was to handcuff the paedophile to the school gates.  I thought it would be an appropriate way to expose this animal, on full view.  This we did, and to finish off, Steve had brought a big placard from the van that we had already made, we hung it around his neck.  It read:


It didn’t look a pretty sight!

After leaving that horrible mess at the school gates.  We drove the van to where Steve’s car was parked ready for the switch over.  I told Steve and the rest of the team that I would be getting shut of the van today. We had had it a bit too long, and who knows, it could well have been identified.  I also insisted that they leave all their masks and gloves in the van with me, I would destroy them as-soon-as too.  From start to finish, the whole operation we had just done that morning took less than twenty minutes.  Steve got into his car with Carl and Chris as I drove away in the van.

The next day as I expected, the whole of the city was confronted with the news about yesterday’s events, regarding the kidnap and torture of a paedophile.  Some news had gone nationwide, even as far as getting reports on television bulletins.  It was reported that a man who had been recently charged with child rape had been found badly mutilated, and that the police are now convinced it is the same gang of vigilantes who are responsible for other similar attacks in and around the city.


This book contains violence in the most graphic detail

VIGILANTE is available from:  and  and is available as a KINDLE and to download on iTunes and Kobo



14th September 2014

Charlie Seiga was young and ambitious; he craved the good things life had to offer.  At the age of just seventeen he led a gang of older men into doing daring safe blowing robberies up and down the country using high explosives (gelignite).  This story tells, in intricate detail, all about the methods used in safe blowing and how professional these men were at the business they chose to be involved in.  They became known as ‘The Jelly Gang.’

This true story tells, the intricate detail all about the methods used in safe blowing and how professional these men were at the business they chose to be involved with.  They became known as the Jelly Gang (Jelly is the slang word for gelignite)

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QUOTE FROM CHARLIE:  The older guys who I grafted with, one of them being my older brother, were behind on the game.  They were opening safes the hard way using tools that could take hours, whereas the way I did it would take literally minutes.

At that time; back in the 1950s, safe blowing was regarded as the pinnacle of excellence amongst the gangsters of that era.  It demanded a superior knowledge and technique and required meticulous planning of the highest degree. Expertise in the way explosives worked was paramount.  Although on some occasions it was a very dangerous game to be in and there was near death, disaster and injuries in some of the moves the Jelly Gang pulled off.

QUOTE FROM CHARLIE:  I remember on one of these occasions a member of our crew nearly had his head ripped off his shoulders by the peter door completely blowing off missing him by a hair.  He was lucky to be alive!

They knew how to make plenty of money and in doing so they led a fast and privileged lifestyle sampling the best money could buy.

Whilst they carried out these audacious and daring raids they managed to evade capture by always being one step ahead of the police.  Police forces throughout the country were well aware of the Jelly Gang and each police force wanted to be the one that would successfully bring them down

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QUOTE FROM CHARLIE:  We were ahead of the police on the moves we pulled off but then silly mistakes can be made we underestimate the police due to negligence.

However, it was inevitable that their luck would only last for so long.

In 1958 the youth was standing in the dock of the Crown Court flanked on both sides by the older members of his gang.  The judge, directing his words towards the youth was quoted as saying; ‘He is like a young lion who had tasted his first blood.’  He made legal history by becoming the youngest safe blower in England.

This is also the true personal story of the characters involved; how they became what they were and how they lived, some retiring and living a comfortable life and others sadly not so lucky.

To read all Charlie’s blogs please log on to

Available from:
And on:  iTunes, Kobo, Amazon kindle and
And from:  Waterstones


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 18 ‘LIBERATION NOT DEATH’

21st September 2014

On hearing resent news regarding the burning alive of those innocent dogs that had already been rescued from cruelty and were supposed to be in a safe haven in the Manchester Dogs Home whilst awaiting someone kind to come along and give them a happy home .

I believe a teenager was responsible for deliberately causing the horrendous, agonising death of these poor animals.

A week of two before this event there were reports of one person breaking the legs of a pup so badly that the poor little dog had to be destroyed and the other reported of another young scumbag who took great delight in punching a young dog to death.  How brave were they?  Aren’t they hard cases… causing so much diabolical pain and suffering to defenceless young animals who, given the chance, would give unconditional loyalty and unwavering love to any human being.

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Our gang got up to all kinds of unruly behaviour; a bit of this and a bit of that, if you know what I mean.  When we were young kids though, we never sunk to the levels of sick, depraved acts of cruelty upon defenceless animals who could not escape.

This is a story of a gang of young kids in 1951/53.  Read on to see the vast difference in our behaviour compared to that of some of today’s sick bastards….

One Saturday morning I along with my two younger brothers; Billy and Jimmy decided we wanted a little dog.  I knew my old fella would go mad about this; us bringing a dog home and into our house.  He would start shouting and would probably give me a back hander, but I didn’t care because we all wanted a dog.  So, we decided to visit the dogs home; there would be plenty of dogs there to choose from.

Up until then we had never been to a dogs home.  We saw the odd little pup down at the market but never a dogs’ home.

This dogs’ home was situated on the outskirts of Liverpool city centre.  There was a big field adjacent to the home and a long cinder path that ran alongside the field.

As we passed through the large wire gates of the building we began to get really excited, especially Billy and Jimmy; after all, we were going to get our own dog.

The three of us entered the building.  There were rows and rows of cages down each side which all contained stray dogs.  Obviously, a lot of them had been picked up from roaming the streets.  Others had been dumped there by their cruel owners.  It was a dismal looking building inside, with cage after cage of abandoned dogs.  I felt so sorry for them and so did my two brothers.  The dogs’ sad pitiful eyes looked out at us as if pleading for us to take them home.

Some of them jumped up at the bars and barked.  They all seemed pleased that at least someone was paying attention to them.

My brothers were running up and down looking at all the different dogs in the cages.  Jimmy, having only looked at a couple of the dogs had already stopped at one cage pleading, ‘can we have this one Charlie? I want this one.’

Then my other brother Billy had found one he wanted and was shouting.  ‘No! No! I want this one!’

Then they would go to another cage and completely change their minds saying, ‘No, I want this one!’

In the end I said to them both,

‘We can only have one, not one each… just one!’

I was looking at the dogs myself and as I walked along the cages I happened to peer into one particular cage where a small solitary little dog, of brown and white markings, was sat at the very back of it looking all forlorn and sad.  I started to speak softly to the little dog and it started to wag its tail looked up at me with its sad little face and sorrowful eyes.  It was a little bitch and it looked like a cross between a jack Russell and a fox terrier.  I shouted Billy and Jimmy over and they too looked at the sad little dog in the cage.  I said there and then to them, ‘we’ll have this one,’ and then in unison they said, ‘Aaawww.’

Just then, as we had just made our decision, the man in charge; the dog warden, appeared from nowhere.  He wore a brown overall and he looked a malevolent brut of a man wearing a permanent scowl on his face.

He approached the three of us and spoke in a cold unemotional voice,

‘This one’s no good to you, it’s a bitch.  Before you know it, this little mongrel will be having pups.’

Our Jimmy looked up at me puzzled.  ‘A bitch?’

‘It’s a little girl dog.’ I replied.

Then once again in unison they both said, ‘Awww.’

In those days there were no questions asked if you wanted to take one of these dogs home.  You didn’t have to pay for them either; they were free.  The dogs home were just glad to get them off their hands.

‘Yes, we’ll take this one please.’  I said.

He shook his head maliciously with a disapproving look.

‘You do know all these dogs are getting put down don’t you?’

I was shocked.  I hated the thought of that.  It made me feel sick that all those lovely dogs would be put down.

Then he walked into the cage to the little dog who was still cowering in the corner and he picked it up by the scruff of his neck.

Then he passed it to me saying gruffly with a smirk on his face, ’this is one lucky bitch!’

I took the dog off him as quickly as I could.  I had a zipper bomber jacket on, so I unzipped it and put the little dog inside then zipped it up again.  All you could see was its little head.  We stood for a moment and looked at all the other poor dogs in their cold dank cages.  As we passed them all on the way out it looked as if they were all saying ‘Aww, take us with you too.’

The dog warden began to lose his patience with us because we were dawdling.  He more or less shouted at us.

‘Come on then, I’m locking up now for the weekend.  We are closed tomorrow; it’s Sunday.’

He led us to the gate and we made our exit.  I remember glaring at this warden angrily (if looks could kill).  I hated him.  He locked the gate behind us and we made our way home.  We walked long cinder path together laughing and singing the number one of the day, by Leta Rosa.


‘How much is that doggie in the window the one with the waggley tail!’

I couldn’t stop thinking about that dog warden.  He reminded me of my old fella; mean and miserable.  I thought those poor dogs have only two days to live.  They will be getting put down on Monday morning.


The three of us were so excited when we got home.  We walked into the house and found my Mother and old fella there with my sister Dee, her husband Joe and our baby Joe.

I unzipped my coat and put the dog on the mat by the fire.  Funnily enough, it walked right over to my old fella wagging its little tail.

‘What the bloody hell have you brought that in here for?  We can do without that… a scruffy looking dog running around the house.’  My old fella reacted exactly as predicted.

That’s all it took for him to put the dampeners on everything.  I just looked at him and he looked at me.

‘I don’t want that in this house.’

We all protested.  I was beginning to stand up for myself a little. ‘All my friends have got a dog so why can’t we?’


My Mother said to him, ‘what’s up with you?’

And my sister Dee looked at him as if to say, ‘don’t be mean.’  My brothers and I started to play with the little dog and soon everyone was petting it.  It looked so happy to be out of that dog cage and in a warm and happy home.  We had saved her!

It was Sunday morning, the day after my little brothers and I had been to the dogs’ home.  Every Sunday our crowd used to gather on our back field; behind our houses.  This field was another of our favourite meeting places.

Most of us, especially the Catholics, had to go to church on Sunday because the Priests would let your Mother and Father know if you didn’t go.  For some kids that could be a hard thing especially in school on Monday morning.

However, my three pals; Tucker, Spider and Yatesy and I were past all that and this Sunday it would be different altogether.  I couldn’t stop thinking about that evil looking dog warden.  I just wouldn’t put anything past him when it came to any cruelty to those poor dogs which he had caged up.  Any freedom we could give them no matter how short was better than leaving them in that hell-hole of a place that they call a dogs’ home.

As we sat around on the field.  I told them the story of what had happened with this little dog and how the dog warden treated the defenceless dogs that were still caged up.  I told them that I wanted to crash the dogs out.  At least they would be free and they could wonder wherever they wanted to… and hopefully they could avoid being put down.

My three pals were all up for it so we headed off down to the dogs home.  I had an old crow bar with me and Yatesy had a broken piece of metal that could be used on the gate.

We approached the building where the dogs were confined.  We found that the front gate was only on a small padlock.  The lock was easy to snap off as it was rusty and not very strong.  All the dogs started to bark and yelp when they heard us break open the gate.  We could hear some of them whining.

We made it to the next door which was the entrance to the actual building.  All the caged dogs were still making a lot of noise, barking and whining.  However, when they saw us enter the building most of them started to jump up at the sight of us, it was almost as though they knew we were good people and were there to set them free.  I turned to my pals.

‘Come on, let’s hurry up, just in case.’

So Tucker and I went along one side of cages and Yatesy and Spider did the other side.  It was easy to open the cage doors as they were only on a small latch.

We all began petting and stroking them.  They were really excited as we freed more and more of them.

Eventually we were surrounded by happy, licking, jumping dogs.  Yatesy slipped on the floor and some of the dogs were licking his face as if they were thanking him for their rescue.  Little Yatesy was just as happy as the dogs, in fact we all were!

‘Let’s get them all to the main gate, we haven’t got much time.’  I said.


We tried to get the dogs to do as they were told.  When we opened the door to the building there was pandemonium; there must have been fifteen to eighteen dogs all shapes and sized and colours and breeds.

We finally got them to the main gate.  I looked back into the building.

Yatesy, have we got them all out?  Have another quick look to make sure.’

Then I looked at my three pals. ‘Are you ready?’

Before I opened the gate we started counting down.  1…2…3.  I flung the gate wide open!

As the dogs ran out there was a little straggler; a small, slow dog that couldn’t keep up with the others.  As it passed Spider he said to me, ‘that’s the last one.’

He looked at the slow little dog and it looked up at him as he started to stroke it.  Then he picked it up and said to me. ‘I’m taking this one home with me.’


We all ran across the open adjacent field including the freshly liberated dogs.  Funnily enough, it backed on to a park.  We shouted and whistled for the dogs to follow us.  Then Tucker said to me,

‘What are we going to do with them all?’  My friends looked at me for an answer.

‘I don’t know, what do you think?’

We all burst out laughing and ran with the dogs across the open park.  Tucker and Yatesy decided they now wanted a dog each.  The dogs were beginning to scatter in all directions and it was so funny seeing Tucker and Yatesy running after a dog each.  How brilliant though to see all those dogs free.

We all headed home that Sunday feeling great, my three pals carried a dog each.

From that day to this I don’t know what happened to those dogs but I hope they all found somewhere nice to live and never got caught and locked up ever again.

I would have loved to see the look on that dog warden’s evil face when he came to open up on Monday morning and finding all the dogs gone.  Serves him right the cruel bastard!!

This is taken from my new book ‘It’s Hard To Be Good’


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 19   ‘FROM RAGS TO RICHES’ 

27th September 2014                                                                     

Sometimes doing time in prison could have its funny moments; it wasn’t all gloom and doom.  Some of the stories you hear about prison life in some of the crime books others have written are mostly about the prisoners serving time for big robberies or murder and other types of violent crime.  Such as who was the biggest gangster and about people with big reputations etc and of other high profile cases you may have heard on the news.  However, what about the nondescripts the vagabonds of society, the tramps, the drunkards, the alcoholics; they never get a mention.  Well this is a true story about one of these lowlife culprits who had been charged with vagrancy in the heart of the city centre of Liverpool.  Basically, he would stand in a shop doorway begging for money. 

I remember this certain tramp coming in to the prison one day, I think he got sentenced to ten days or so, and my friends and I had the displeasure of having to relieve him of his tattered stinking clothes.  He smelt terrible and his clothes were crawling with lice. He was absolutely filthy! The staff in the reception used to have a long pole with a hook on the end, which was so that you could keep the tramp at bay so you wouldn’t get contaminated. The pole was made especially for this purpose. A big old sheet was put down on the floor and the tramps had to stand on it and strip off all their disgusting clothes. When they had done this, the clothes, or rags, were bundled up in the sheet by the tramp. Then the bundle would be hung on the end of the pole by one of us and taken to be burnt in the prison incinerator. 

The bath the prison provided was especially for tramps, containing loads of disinfectant.  It was like a fumigating, delousing bath.  On this occasion when this particular tramp was given fresh prison clothes to put on he protested and wanted to be given his own filthy clothes back, which by now were in the incinerator.  However, he kept insisting he wanted his own clothes. We explained what had happened to them and he then went stark raving mad, screaming his head off about all his money.  After we had got him under control, the truth came out.  He had a fortune sewn into the inside of his jacket. After being told this, a couple of pals and I headed right for the incinerator.  Hot on our heels were a couple of screws who obviously wanted their cut of the money too, but we were all too late.  By the time we got there all the tramp’s clothes along with his money had gone up in smoke. 

A real classic case of a tramp who had money to burn.  We were all gutted!

Charlie Seiga

Just one of many stories from my book ‘KILLER,’ available to download on Amazon and iTunes.


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 20 ‘VIGLILANTE JUSTICE’

3rd October 2014

I looked down at him, he was like a cornered rat, I snarled at him.  ‘So you’re the animal who robs and beats up old pensioners hey?’ 

‘No, no, not me, you’ve got me all wrong.’

‘Oh no I haven’t.  Don’t be coming that game with me you fuckin’ scumbag.’

I told him the same as I had told the other lowlifes whom I had damaged,

‘Listen carefully to what I am going to say.  We know everything about you, where you live and who you hang out with.  Remember this, you don’t know who we are and you never will.  You won’t be beating and mugging anymore pensioners you fuckin’ animal.’

He started whimpering back to me.  Trying to sound remorseful he said,  

‘I’m sorry, honest to God, honest to God. I won’t do it again mate.’

‘Oh I know you won’t be doing it again,” I told him, “and another thing, those scum bag mates of yours, you get word to them that we are coming after them too.  Right now you’re going to get taught a lesson you are never going to forget.’

He started to shiver with fear and I said to him,

‘You know what it’s like to be terrified now, don’t yeah?  Like those old people felt when they were at your mercy!’

We kicked off with the punishment on the scumbag.  He got the same treatment as the rest of the lowlife got before him.

The blows came reigning down on him from our wooden batons.  After we had finished he was completely out of it and knocked unconscious.  He was lying there on his back both of his arms where out stretched Steve, Carl and Chris thought that was the end of it…. but not me, in fact the punishment wasn’t enough as far as I was concerned.  Unbeknown to them I had a sharp meat cleaver in the inside of my jacket.  I stood on one of the scumbag’s wrists and quickly pulled out the meat cleaver.  Carl could see what was about to happen and quickly started to protest,

‘NO, NO!!’  He shouted, ‘what the fuck are you doing?’

Steve and Chris just stood there in silence.  I had selected the right hand of the animal, the hand that had caused all that suffering to those old people…….

Continued in my book Vigilante.  A warning though – this book contains violence in the most graphic detail so is not for the squeamish as it might upset some people!!!

Sorry to disappoint but Vigilante physical books are completely sold out!

However, it is still available to download on Amazon, iTunes and Kobo…  

Read all Charlie’s blogs by clicking link below.


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 21  ‘EBOLA’  THE PLAGUE OF DEATH

13th October 2014

Ebola is a deadly disease which has never been known to exist amongst mankind before; just like when that other deadly virus called AIDs was discovered.

So far AIDs has wiped out over 36 million people, even though scientist and the medical experts have tried to quell it with vaccines etc the death toll is continuing to rise.

Ebola is more deadly than AIDs because the majority of people in western countries learned that you could protect yourself by taking precautions when having sex and always avoiding unprotected intercourse just incase you were unfortunate enough to be with one who carried the virus.

So far with Ebola there is no protection what so ever, just being in the company of a person without even touching them is enough.  You could just be queuing up in your local shop having just nipped in for a bottle of milk or the paper.  If someone in there has it they only have to sneeze or cough and they will launch it up into the air you breathe.

Our country; our small island, is now vulnerable.  Now anyone could come over to us by train, plane, boat or car having contacted Ebola (and may not even know it yet) and spread it right across the country.  With this deadly disease no one is safe; young, old, man, woman even our children!

The USA is going to test people’s temperatures at airports –    incidentally, they are only testing at some of their airports for whatever reason – but what good would that do when this thing incubates for 10 days?  There are no symptoms including a high temperature until after that incubation period and by then they have passed through the airport and are in amongst the population!

Like I said though, we are an ‘island;’ so we could pull up the drawbridge and cut ourselves off from it all.  It would mean us shutting the airports, the ports and the channel tunnel but it would make us safe.  Word is that it would be necessary to do this for up to three months though and what damage would that do the economy?

Personally, I think this is only the tip of the iceberg.  Already in my lifetime, this is now the second deadly plague which has descended on our planet and each one appears to be becoming more of a threat than the last.  Vaccines, it seems, are getting harder to find that will combat these diseases.  Could it be that the scientist and the medical profession are fighting a losing battle?

After all, the world is becoming vastly over populated.  Therefore could this be, and this is only ‘my’ opinion, but could this be mother-nature, who I passionately belief in, rebelling against mankind?

I mean, it is the human race alone that‘s slowly destroying this planet.  For example; he is polluting the atmosphere, the seas, the rivers and the land.  He is destroying forest and other vital habitats and environments.  More and more animals and many of the bird population are becoming extinct each year.  When you come to think about it, millions and millions of acres of land have been stripped bare and concreted over and the destruction and decimation goes on and on.  I personally believe that man will totally destroy himself in the end!

Please visit True Life Crime Books website

Charlie Seiga

What do you think?  I welcome any comments on any of my blogs!


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Charlie Seiga Weekly BLOG 22 ‘PUT THE BLAME ON WHO?’

3rd November 2014

When the great decline started to kick in on our council estates the older population blamed it on the drug culture.  They said that drugs were the sole cause of the lawlessness and the behaviour of the youth; but  for me I personally think that the kids of today have got it the hardest, unemployment is still rife; kids are leaving school, and some leaving university with some excellent degrees, and going straight onto benefits; and that alone is soul destroying.

The councils are responsible for destroying our communities.   With their greedy ambitions and lame excuses the council started to sell-off playing fields.  The public swimming baths are being shut down, youth clubs and other important premises that used to entertain our youngsters and youths are rapidly being demolished; even ponds and woodlands, where kids could play and go fishing, were ripped up and filled in!

All of this can only be described as legalised vandalism.   I strongly believe that all this has and is still being done just to enable the greedy councils to sell this vital land to private developers.

When I lived in West Derby (an area in Liverpool) I can clearly recall a well known lord; known as Lord Sefton, bequeathing to the public the many acres of parks and woodland he owned.   He did this so that the public could enjoy them for years to come.  Years ago in my childhood my friends and I used to play and hang out on these very acres.  What’s a real travesty is that a couple of years after he passed away his beautiful trees were being chopped down and fish ponds were being filled in.   In their place private houses; not council houses, were being built all over this once beautiful land that Lord Sefton had bequeathed in his last will and testament to the local people.  It was supposed to be enjoyed by the local community.  It was supposed to be somewhere that the youth could meet and play and hang out together.  All this destruction and deprivation was totally down to the inconsiderate and greedy council.

I’m sure that you too will have similar stories from your own neighbourhoods!

Please visit True Life Crime Books website

Charlie Seiga

Submit News Contact us with your community, business or sport news. Phone 07581350321 Email





Submit News Contact us with your community, business or sport news. Phone 07930717137 Email