Wayne Warrender

Wayne never knew his father—his mother, Marjorie (whom he refused to call “Mother”), made sure of that.

His childhood was a house where chaos was routine, and safety was an illusion. With a mother who had a dangerous grip on reality and a stepfather whose violence would land him in prison for attempted murder, survival often meant silence—and staying out of the way.

Set in the backstreets of 1960s and ’70s Manchester, England, and later in the valleys of South Wales, this is a memoir of stark contrasts, because it wasn’t all darkness.

Between the madness were moments of mischief, laughter, and raw humanity. Told with sharp wit and unflinching honesty, He Said He’s Sorry is a story of contradictions—of loyalty and betrayal, fear and resilience, absurdity and love. Wayne charts a path through broken homes, family betrayals, three failed marriages, and the life-altering decisions that shaped him.

This is the story of a boy who never stopped trying to make sense of it all—and a man who finally did.

Some stories survive the telling. This one demanded it.