My mum used to beat me with a wooden spoon

Ahem. I've been taking these vitamin C

pills recently because they're supposed to

be good for you when you have a cold.

Tastes like vomit. I'm actually trapped

inside the house because my wife lost the

second key to the apartment, so I have to

stay inside. I can't go outside and leave

the door unlocked.

When I was a young— when, when I was

a young boy, me and my sister used to

fight a lot, usually over the computer. I

wanted to play Command and Conquer and she

wanted to play The Sims, and we had a lot

of fights, arguments over who got to play

which game. And these fights usually ended

with me hitting my sister, and then my

sister would start crying, and my mum

would get angry, and then she would hit me

using some kind of objects, usually a

wooden spoon, a commonly found object in

any household in the kitchen. And what she

would do was she would chase me around the

house, and I would get hit on my buttocks

and the back of my legs, and it was very

painful. So what I

used to do was I used to try and hide the

wooden spoons to stop her from hitting me

when I was a naughty boy. And I would hide

the wooden spoons around the house, but

instead of using wooden spoons, she would

use different objects like a walking stick

or wooden cane, and these things were even

more painful. So I stopped trying to hide

the wooden spoons. Usually when my mum was

chasing me around with a wooden spoon or a

cane or a walking stick, I would try to

escape to the toilet or the bathroom. I

would go straight for the bathroom because

the bathroom had a lock on the door. You

could lock the door from the inside. So I

would make a frantic dash towards the

bathroom and lock myself in there. And my

mum would be running up the stairs, and I

used to beg her. I would start begging. I

would say, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't

do it again. Please, Mum, please, Mum,

don't hit me! I would be desperately

begging for my mum to not hit me inside of

the bathroom, and my mum would be on the

other side of the door trying to force the

lock open whilst banging on the door with

the wooden spoon. It was terrifying as,

as a 10-year-old kid, as a young boy,

it was very scary, and I was very scared

of my mum. And because me and my sister

would fight so often, I would get beaten a

lot, and pretty much every week I would

have bruises and some kind of physical

damage on my legs from being hit by a

wooden spoon. It wasn't severe. It wasn't

like she was really hitting me violently.

She would just hit me a few times fairly

strongly, but it wasn't like child abuse

or anything serious like that. So you

don't need to start getting worried, or,

you know, don't need to start criticizing

my mum for abusing me because it was never

that bad. It was just, you know, just like

a few, few spanks, sometimes maybe more.

I remember the last day she ever hit me.

I was around, I think I was around 14 or

15, and I was finally getting bigger than

my mum and I was physically able to stop

her from hitting me. She tried hitting me

with the wooden cane again and I just

grabbed it and in my hand like some kind

of kung fu movie, and I didn't let go,

and I didn't let her take the cane back.

I actually grabbed the cane off her. I

didn't hit her with it, that would just be

mean, but that was the last time she ever

tried to hit me. I guess she realized that

I was getting bigger and stronger than she

was, and she could no longer do that,

because if she kept trying to hit me, I

think I would have ended up hitting her

back Eventually, it wasn't just

beatings. When I was a naughty boy, she

used to do— she used to carry out other

forms of punishment on me. For example,

breaking my toys. I remember I had a

monster truck, one of those

remote-controlled cars, and I used to love

that thing. And one day I was fighting

with my sister again, and instead of

hitting me with a wooden spoon, she got

out one of my dad's hammers and she got

out my monster truck and she just smashed

it to pieces like a crazy person. It's

still ingrained in my memory. I remember

her just smashing that monster truck to

tiny pieces. And then there was another

time when I was about 12. Again, me and my

sister were fighting and she got my

PlayStation 2 and she just chucked it out

of the window. And my bedroom was on the

second floor, so she chucked it out of the

second floor window and it hit the ground

and it smashed into tiny pieces. And she

got all of my games and she chucked those

out of the window as well. They all

smashed into tiny pieces. She tried to

chuck my TV out of the window as well,

but it was too big and it didn't fit, so

she gave up. I ran outside and I was

trying to fix my PlayStation 2. I was

trying to salvage it, and I remember

sitting on the concrete outside just

crying, putting the pieces back together.

I tried Putting it back together, and I

tried plugging it in, but it wouldn't turn

on. I couldn't get it to work. My dad

tried to fix it as well, but he couldn't.

It was— it was a lost cause.

All of my games were smashed to tiny

pieces. The cases were smashed, but the

discs inside, most of them were fine, so

that wasn't too much of a problem.

And I was just so sad. I was actually

crying over my PlayStation 2 because I

loved that thing. It was my favorite item,

my favorite possession in the world when I

was, when I was 12. I think my mum felt

really bad about it, and she ended up

buying me a brand new Xbox and a new TV,

so I wasn't upset for too long. This would

happen a lot. She would break one of my

toys as a punishment, and then she would

buy me something better, something new.

And I don't think this was a good form of

punishment because it sent me this message

that I could do something bad, like making

my sister cry, and I would get something

good out of it, and I wouldn't have to

suffer consequences for doing something

bad or wrong. I would actually get

rewarded. Maybe, maybe that

affected me somehow, and that made me into

the person I am today. Wouldn't it be

interesting if they carried out some kind

of experiment on, on a child, and every

time he did something naughty or bad,

instead of punishing him, they would

reward him? Give him a sweet, give him a

new toy, pat him on the back and say,

well done, Jimmy, you did a good job.

What kind of person would Jimmy turn out

to be if he kept getting rewarded for

being, being a bad boy? I don't think

Jimmy would be a very nice person because

he spent his childhood being rewarded for

doing bad things. I think Jimmy would have

absolutely no problem with doing bad

things and not feeling guilty about it. I

don't know about you, but I think it's— I

think it's fascinating how much of an

impact a child's upbringing can have on

the kind of person it will turn out to be

when he grows up.

If I had my own child, I don't think I

would be able to hit it or spank it. I'm

not sure what I would do to discipline it.

I don't think I'd be very good at

disciplining a child. Maybe I'd get a

bottle of water in one of those spray

containers and just spray it with water

when it's bad or misbehaving. I don't

think spanking a child is very effective

because even though I knew I would get

spanked by my mum, it never really stopped

me from fighting with my sister or making

her cry or doing bad things. I just kind

of accepted that if I do bad things, I'll

get spanked. But for some reason, I didn't

really care. I didn't really care about

getting spanked. I didn't want to get

spanked, but I wasn't really that scared

of it. It wasn't— I didn't see it as that

harsh of a punishment because usually I

would get something out of it after being

spanked, like a new Xbox or a new TV or a

new monster truck. And to me, getting

those new things was worth getting spanked

over. I was such a bad kid

when I was a young boy. I used to make my

sister cry all the time. I used to draw

pictures on the walls using crayons. I

would make other kids cry. I used to make

my next-door neighbor Ricky cry all the

time when, when he beat me at games.

I can't believe Ricky was in the same

class as Chris Broad. Can you believe my

best friend Ricky used to be in the same

class as Chris Broad for 7 years and he

never told me about it? How come I never

knew that Chris was in Ricky's class?

What a small world we live in.

I decided to come outside anyway. I feel

trapped in there. It's just nice to come

out for a walk now and then and get

away from the computer, get away from all

the YouTube stuff.

It's nice and breezy today, cloudy.

I think this is actually one of my

favourite places around my area. It takes

about— it takes about half an hour to walk

it, so it's a bit far, but it's, it's so

nice and peaceful. There's hardly any

people around. It's nice to make videos

here because I don't get interrupted.

Be nice if I had a bicycle. I'm thinking

about getting a bicycle, then I could get

here faster,

and then I could ride my bike up and down

these dirt tracks. That might be fun.

So what is the point of this video

exactly? Um, well, there isn't really any

point. I just feel like making a video.

Probably won't upload it since it's so

boring. There's not really anything

to talk about. I don't know what to talk

about. Do you know what to talk about.

Hasn't really been anything interesting

going on recently. You already

know what happened. I had a fight with my

wife, left for a few days, got back

together, everything's great again.

Not sure how long that's gonna last. Who

wants to place bets? How long until the

next big argument and I livestream from a

hotel again? I'm gonna say 2 weeks

minimum, maybe 3 weeks. I was flossing

my teeth last night and my wife was next

to me, and then she said, it really

stinks. And I already know this because I

floss every night and I actually smell the

floss, and it does stink. It smells bad,

and I don't know why. I brush my teeth

twice a day. I use Listerine mouthwash. I

floss once a day, sometimes twice a day,

but my, my mouth does— my breath does

smell bad before brushing.

My gums also bleed sometimes when I floss,

even if I suck gently on my molars at the

back. Sometimes they start to bleed. I

might have gingivitis. Is that What it's

called. Was it halitosis? I think

halitosis means bad breath, and gingivitis

is like gum disease. So I

might have to go to the dentist. I haven't

been to the dentist since I was 14 years

old. I don't see anything wrong with my

teeth. I inspect my teeth in the mirror

and I check them to see if they're okay.

They look fine, and I regularly,

regularly scratch the plaque off my teeth

use my fingernails. I don't even know how

you could— how could you clean in between

your molars? Up, up into the gum?

How do you clean that area out?

I don't have any tooth decay, there's no

pain, so I don't really know what the

problem is. Maybe I just have bad breath.

My wife doesn't. When she flosses,

there's absolutely no smell. But when I

floss, it smells so bad. It smells like my

cat's breath. Ugh, there's these

dragonflies hovering around. They look

gross and they're really big. And there's

sand in my sandals and my feet hurt.

This is why I wear— this is why I wear

socks when I wear sandals, because if you

don't wear socks, you get little grains of

sand and dirt that get flicked up

underneath your feet and it's kind

of uncomfortable. What's this

guy doing? Playing a spot of golf? Why