May 11, 2025 • 30 mins
Crime is bigger than both the Beatles and Liverpool Football Club in this city, and I am nestled in the epicentre of one of the most criminally minded group of men in Europe, and it's chaos of a different kind.
During the three and a half years I was in prison I wrote over a million words by hand. Tales From The Jails is a contemporaneous account of my life, and attempts to thrive rather than merely survive, whilst incarcerated.
Most names have been changed. The events have not.
This is a Jekyll & Pride production.
Producer: Trevessa Newton
Title Music taken from The Confession, on the album Crimes Against Poetry (written and performed by The Shadow Poet, produced by Lance Thomas)
Copyright Jekyll & Pride Ltd 2025
@jekyllandpride2023
@theshadowpoettsp
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
During the three and a halfyears I was in prison, I wrote
(00:03):
over a million words by hand.
Tales from the Jails is acontemporaneous account of my
life, and attempts to thriverather than merely survive
whilst incarcerated.
Most names have been changed,but the events have not.
Episode 33 T he Meat Wagon.
(00:37):
It is the 15th of the ninth,2016.
Incarceration never ceases todeliver surprises, most of them
not very pleasant.
What a 48 hours it has been.
I'm on the eve of a POCAhearing, which I was only made
aware of yesterday.
(00:59):
Of all the people to deliver thenews, it was the person who
hated me more than the judge,Toenails.
I cannot help with smile at howsimilar they are.
Like siblings sharing the samemalevolent DNA and as such, both
consumed with trying to destroyme.
(01:22):
It must have killed Toenails tohold back his delight, but he
was holding back a second boutof bad news too that he was
savouring on.
Neil and I were due to beshipped out to Haverigg 100
miles away on the west coast ofCumbia, and he knew it.
(01:42):
He'd seen it on the list bychance and kept it quiet.
I remained composed as hedelivered the news from the
corner of his mouth.
My stomach turned like a wash onfull spin, but I found myself
saying, wow, that's a relief.
I've been wondering what wasgoing on with this POCA stuff.
(02:04):
It's a day out, isn't it, awayfrom here?
I'll be able to catch up with mylegals properly.
Toenails was gloating, althoughhis dodgy eye didn't give him
away, his silence did.
Just when I thought my world wasonce again collapsing, all my
(02:26):
efforts to survive to thispoint, Mr.
H appeared like a guardian angeland asked me had I put in for a
transfer.
Absolutely fucking not, was myfirst response and what's going
on, my second.
Thankfully he took both Neil andI off the ship out list and back
(02:48):
onto hold.
That means we can stay at Waltonand continue working in
reception.
I'm sure it must sound crazy.
Preferring to remain here thanto leave to a Cat C prison.
But ironically, it is not.
Visits for T and my family wouldbe a nightmare.
(03:10):
Things aren't great here, buttrekking every week for two and
a half hours one way andcancelled when the weather is
bad was not a consideration.
I'd be back at the beginning ina place that is having its own
horror stories leaking out.
Reception is the best job in theprison, and the perks in here
(03:31):
are far outweigh taking chancesthat a lower category prison is
going to be any better.
I'm strangely settled here,making the best of a very bad
situation.
I've written before, we can wakeup in our beds and by the end of
the day, be sleeping in anotherwithout any choice or notice.
(03:56):
No, for the foreseeable future,unless I'm shipped out, I'm
staying.
I didn't announce I was stayingto the lads straightaway.
No.
Instead I waited.
I knew Toenails and his gimpFlemmo would be desperate to
wind me up POCA one day andshipped out the next.
(04:20):
True to form they couldn't helpthemselves.
I stayed out of the way, keptbusy and was last at the lunch
table.
I wanted Toenails to havealready begun with the gloating,
with the rest of the lads.
He had everything he could havewished for.
My head fucked, being shippedout and 48 hours to wind me up
(04:43):
and probably be instigating onelast time to have me terrorized
through the doors.
For the first time in nearlyeight months, I wanted Toenails
and the gimp to be as sly and ashorrible as possible.
Here's the wounded soldier.
(05:04):
What happened to you?
Don't you feel like eating yourlunch?
Here y'are Flemmo will have yourjacket potato.
Flemmo laughed like cannedlaughter right on cue.
Yes, lads.
It's true.
I'm on the list for the ship outalong with Neil.
(05:26):
Gutted for you G, came from Dan.
That was nice.
It's true lads.
Poor Neil and I are booked onthe ship out bus.
Mr.
H has just pulled me to confirmit.
Told ya, came from Toenails.
But lads, Mr.
(05:47):
H then asked me would I like tostay.
You made it clear I'm better offhere and I and my fellow friend
Neil can stay as long as wewish.
Something about really good ladsare hard to come by down here.
Something else about you can'ttrust people.
I was in dramatic thespian mode.
(06:11):
Toenails went silent, Flemmochoked on his fat meal, and I
continued.
Speaking of trust, especiallyamongst us lads, you know, the
prison code stuff, all togetherdown here.
Well, lads, what it flushed outwas our prison oracle knew Neil
(06:32):
and I were on the bus.
And he didn't tip us off early.
Imagine, he hates me that muchhe was prepared to throw you
under the bus, Neil.
The reality is lads, we justcannot trust him or Flemmo.
That's not what fucking happens,was about as far as Toenails
(06:53):
got.
this time, he was sliced andsavoured slowly by me.
Regardless of what comes nextwith him, I'm outing him in
front of the rest of the lads.
Worse for you, my friend, is youknow you should not have
informed me.
It's privileged information, butyou could not help yourself.
(07:17):
You were so desperate to gloatand fuck with me that in doing
so, you put a noose around yourown fucking neck.
Did you throw me under the busthen, was his first response.
No, I did not.
I'm not a grass.
But you think you are so clever,desperate to see me suffer that
(07:41):
you ended up shining a lightupon yourself and put a noose
around your own neck.
Lost your appetite?
Here y'are, Flemmo will help youout.
You could cut the air with aknife.
Of course, I'm fully aware thatmy response to Dumb and Dumber
may provoke a worse backlash.
Toenails was not only wounded,worse, the lads knew the facts
(08:06):
about the situation.
The devious duo was now fullyexposed.
The lads never said a word and Ileft the table.
It's difficult to describe inwords the constant bombardment
from Toenails.
It's never subtle and alwayssly.
(08:27):
I was obviously curious howToenails may respond.
A wounded animal can bedangerous.
However, for now I have far morepressing concerns.
By 4:00 PM Jeremy, my solicitor,was informing me in a legal
visit that the judge was holdingcourt for my POCA hearing.
(08:49):
My arch nemesis, or I his, mustonce again do battle.
Maybe I'm being naive, still ona high from the lunchtime duel,
but somehow it didn't feel likea battle right now.
I'm feeling stronger again, andalthough prison has no easy
days, somehow I feel like I'm ina good place.
(09:16):
The woman of my dreams loves me.
I've made it this far againstall odds, and in the short term,
I'm staying here.
Contrary to the judge's damningwords that I am a man of no good
character, I can enter thecourtroom knowing I have more
integrity than he.
(09:37):
I care, I tell the truth and Ilove.
It's daunting what lays ahead,but I'm ready.
I say this without anyarrogance.
Strange as it may sound, Ibelieve one day the truth will
out.
(09:59):
The Beatles movie premiere is inLiverpool Today.
Hollywood stars and musiclegends descend on my hometown
as I write in my cell only twomiles from the action.
But it could be on a differentplanet, such is the void between
us.
Ron Howard's rocumentary focuseson unseen footage of the Fab
(10:21):
Four in the wild days of theiryouth and the height of their
chaotic fame.
Paul and Ringo have attended thebig night, and the closest I am
to the red carpet premiere iswatching it on the tiny TV.
I cannot help smiling at theirony.
Crime is bigger than both theBeatles and Liverpool Football
(10:43):
Club in this city, and I amnestled in the epicenter of one
of the most criminally mindedgroup of men in Europe, and it's
chaos of a different kind.
It's the eve of POCA, and I'llbe returning to the courtroom in
the Queen Elizabeth Courts.
A place that holds no goodmemories.
(11:06):
Jeremy said the judge hasdelayed his retirement to deal
with my case.
I think that says everything.
He cannot rest until he's buriedme.
Apparently the word amongst thelegals in general is no one can
believe I managed to secure alegal team for the appeal.
(11:29):
I'm actually aware the stakesare high and the judge will be
sharpening his blade once again.
The reality between the two ofus is that if I win my appeal,
well, it exposes the judge morethan anyone else.
And although his retirement isimminent, this will kill his
reputation.
(11:51):
And the so-called legacy willhave to be rewritten.
It's the 16th of ninth, 2016.
It's the big day.
(12:12):
I didn't sleep much through thenight.
It's not unusual in Hotel Waltonwith its shocking reviews on
TripAdvisor.
The guard didn't knock with apolite good morning G, no, he
flashed the light and, alrightmate, Cour t, see you at seven.
AM, that is.
(12:34):
In this cramped cell with thetoilet attached, not to be
confused with an en suite, trygetting ready without waking
your pad mate.
Only one coffee, t he realitybeing, I didn't want to be
desperate for the toilet andbeing purposely denied.
I've danced that tango before.
Nothing is made easy.
(12:55):
In fact, I'm expecting to betreated worse than ever.
Sadly, I could only wash in thesink.
There is no sharp suit for theoccasion.
No, it's black jeans and a plaingray T-shirt that looked like it
had been sprayed on.
I'm in good shape and can'tdeny, I wanted the judge and his
(13:17):
cronies to see I hadn't fallenapart.
I was strong again.
The last thing I did whenleaving the sleeping wing was
post a birthday card to mydaughter and a letter to T.
I was expecting to be slungstraight into the G4S meat
wagon, but instead, down inreception, I was allowed to make
(13:39):
myself a coffee and relax in thekitchen.
The officers on duty were chattyand jovial with me, and this
helped me to remain relaxed at atime when usually anyone in my
position would be highlyanxious.
Mr.
B put an end to the fun,chomping on toast, stains on his
shirt and smelling of BO in fullprize prick mode.
(14:02):
He told me I could not take mybook to read.
Mr.
S called me at 8.
30 and I did the walk of shameonto the meat wagon, subjected
to cuffed, loaded, then lockedinto the box.
Imagine an aeroplane toilet,then half its size and comfort.
Then imagine if you can, thatit's never been cleaned.
(14:27):
Cuffed and squeezed into adehumanizing space.
A tour but it is not.
A window seat of a differentkind.
I can see out of the porthole,but the outside world cannot see
in.
If you have claustrophobia, Iguarantee you're having an
attack.
What caught me by surprise weremy thoughts and feelings as we
(14:50):
exited the security gate andreentered the real world for the
first time in eight months.
Within seconds, memories of athousand kind flooded back.
I'd travelled up and down theseroads hundreds of times in my
life.
(15:10):
I didn't notice at first, butI'd started to sing to myself In
My Life by The Beatles.
Ahead was a 20 minute tour ofthe city.
And here I was reflectingthrough a song.
There are places I remember, allmy life, though some have
(15:43):
changed some forever, not forbetter, some have gone and some
remain.
(16:04):
All these places had theirmoments...
How does a person in thissurreal position not reflect on
one's own life?
My life was woven into thebricks and mortar of the city.
Most roads have my footprints.
(16:24):
I was born here 51 years ago andnow I'm resident in its
notorious prison.
We sat idling at the trafficlights.
A white van pulled up alongside.
It was a local builders.
The window was down and the ladswere smoking and joking about
the occupants of our bus.
(16:47):
Scousers at their worst.
Further on, my chariot of doomand discomfort crossed Queens
Drive, the artery that links thenorth of the city to the south.
We diverted through Kirkdale.
That was another decayingborough.
(17:07):
Then we turned onto VauxhallRoad, and I smiled as the canal
appeared.
Yes.
A canal that runs through thecity.
It winds and wanders its way tothe Albert Dock.
I thought of the Scouse hippies.
They bring their barges throughhere en route to the River
Festival.
(17:28):
I never make that trip.
Usually I rock up at the AlbertDock and make a guest
appearance.
I love to give it the old,permission to come aboard,
followed by, remember lads, I'vegot the official skipper's
licence.
Sadly, the canal seemed morelike Walton.
It was now a flight tippingparadise, overgrown and unloved.
(17:53):
As we passed the Eldonianestate, another modern community
born out of inner city housing,I swelled with emotion.
We passed the social club, myUncle Tommy's funeral wake was
held there.
An ex inmate of Walton broke myhalcyon thoughts.
(18:13):
I recognized him immediately.
He left Walton about a monthago.
He was walking along the road inflip flops, although he looked
like he'd been out all night.
I smiled when he looked directlyat the bus, almost into it.
(18:34):
He, like all of us who have beenin the back of the meat wagon,
his look was one of, I've beenthere before.
I fucking hated it.
And I feel sorry for the ladsstuck in the back.
They're probably on the way tocourt, which was true of course.
The van slowed down as weapproached the city centre.
(18:57):
It was peak time and everyonewas in a rush except me.
What have I got to rush for?
Memory after memory laid on mymind.
Over 30 years of my life spentworking and socializing in one
square mile.
(19:18):
The stories, the people, theevents, all whispering to me at
the same time.
Such was the tsunami ofnostalgia.
We passed the YMCA, although nowonly reads YM.
The CA has disappeared.
It did look like a cross betweena rehab and a fucked up mecca,
(19:41):
and that was only from theoutside.
Ironically, not next door, butmetres further on, is the
Mercedes garage with the big AMGletters adorning in its front.
It made me think of the raidback in 2010.
I drove home to meet the policein one of the best cars Mercedes
(20:03):
had made to date, a CL 55 AMG.
It drove like it was floating onair, looked amazing, cool, and
classy, and luxurious with aproper engine under the bonnet.
What a contrast to this meatwagon with someone else's piss
(20:23):
running through the cubicle.
Reality checks come in alldifferent forms, sizes, and
smells.
There is no one compares withyou and these memories lose
(20:45):
their meaning...
here I am.
An outcast in my own city ofbirth, and yet thousands of
memories, thousands of momentsthat I've lived and breathed,
stare back at me with a hauntedlook.
(21:05):
But of all these friends andlovers, There is no one compares
to you...
and these memories lose theirmeaning when I think of love as
(21:38):
something new.
Ironically, I'm now a prisoner,in one of the most notorious
landmarks.
Not far from anyone and yet amillion light years away.
I've been in the city centresince I was 16 and first left
(22:00):
school and now 51, looking atthe shadows I've left behind.
Boundary Street.
I had such plans for thebuilding.
The Waterloo Warehouse, whereRichard, my old business partner
and best buddy, lived back inthe early years of publishing
(22:23):
and bands and dreams withoutlimits.
The Liver Building looksmajestic as much as gothic, as
we turned into the Stalag 17court building.
Underground.
The last time I was here, I wasleaving in one of these wagons
(22:44):
after receiving a seven yearlife bomb.
Suddenly life, the day ahead andhow things change rapidly and
never in your favour, well, theycome sharply into focus.
I wasn't blocking out what tookplace here, the trauma.
(23:07):
No, somehow it feels almost likemy mind has put up automatic
defences.
One thing is for certain, whenyour confidence begins to drain,
you know powerless is returninglike a Christian being thrown to
the lions.
The bus descends from daylightinto an underground car park.
(23:31):
It's dark, oppressive, and onedoesn't feel like a VIP.
No, we all feel fucked.
I have more freedom working inreception than here in the
bowels of the Queen ElizabethCourts.
It's a kaleidoscope of thoughtscolliding with a sick in the pit
(23:51):
of your stomach feeling, theoptimism that left Walton lost
in Beatles songs was lost inless than a breath the moment
the darkness arrived.
I asked the guard who escortedme, could I have a non-smoking
cell?
A tip from the lads inreception.
(24:12):
There's less chance of beingcaught up with the real
scallies, aka, the cutting crewthat fill cells.
Angry, abusive, and superdickheads and not my idea of a
fun day out.
Luckily, a five foot by 10 footone was available.
The best I could do whilewaiting without having a clue
(24:32):
what lay ahead was half meditateand half hope my legals turn up.
If I open my eyes, then I had achoice of facing waste
splattered across the walls, orread the graffiti buried below
it.
There's blood too, just to addsome colour.
(24:54):
It was two hours before the doorwas unlocked.
I was handcuffed and taken offto an interview room, the size
of a telephone box.
More waiting and more anxiety.
I remember thinking, I wish Iwas back in Walton.
The first surprise was De Niro'sbarrister appearing, looking
(25:16):
more disheveled than he didduring the trial.
He was nervous, but he was thatin the trial too, and looked
more afraid than JMC did a fewweeks back.
I'm a pro, so I made him feelwelcome, relaxed the atmosphere,
told him he looked well.
Are you here with good news orbad news?
(25:39):
What's happening to my legalteam?
The good news was that my absentbarrister Lennon is, in his
words, as good as it gets.
He explained that as I probablyknew, not much would happen
today.
Apparently, De Niro and Johnnywere upstairs and to expect a
new hearing day to be set.
(26:01):
But the best thing he said werehis parting words.
You look really well, George.
Are you working out much?
I couldn't help laughing and Ithink the T-shirt must be
working.
The last time we'd seen eachother was sentencing day.
And to be honest, for all mywoes, ironically, I looked
(26:27):
healthier and happier.
For not so good news and notsuch a good start, suddenly I
felt re-energized and didn'treally care about the rest of
the day.
It was another two hours, satwith thoughts and boredom, then
the key unlocked the door.
(26:48):
It was the same script,handcuffed and marched to an
interview room, somewhatfilthier than before.
The barrister reappeared lookingmore nervous than earlier.
He explained that the judge,whilst he was stuttering and
spluttering, had decided to dealwith the hearing and matters
(27:09):
without me.
Honestly, it made me laugh andhim smile.
He leaned over and saidnervously, but wanting to, if I
may speak candidly, George, Ithink what has just gone on and
(27:30):
then proceeded to confide histhoughts out loud.
It's not for this page, thatwould be unfair and I was
grateful, but I can say this,apparently the judge is trying
to firstly smooth and oil thePOCA through so that I and my
(27:51):
legal team don't or can'tchallenge it.
Secondly, it would appear thatthe judge is acutely aware of
the pedigree of my barristerLennon, but there's more.
The judge is very keen inkeeping hold of the POCA case,
but at the same time, he wantedto drive it through quickly so
(28:12):
that he can retire.
Me, his final victory, crushed.
Again, his parting words werethe ones that resonated the
most.
You'll bounce back from this,George, honestly.
You will.
I told my client, and Johnny,you're looking good.
I mean, who gets that during theworst of times?
(28:38):
Ironically, I sensed thedespicable Machiavellian system
was nervous.
The judge left me down in thecells below the courts while he
coerced the proceedings.
His treatment of me speaksvolumes as to his contempt for
me, but more, he wants me out ofthe way.
(29:01):
In the courtroom, I may have tobe silent, but I can take notes
of what is really taking placeand that terrifies them.
You know, what comes next.
Another two hours in a cell.
They're just playing with me, tofuck with my head, and play with
my emotions and grind me down.
(29:25):
The rest of the day passedquickly, and most of it a blur.
Back on top bunk, I'm smiling asI write.
Is it possible that the judgekept me in the cells all day
because he couldn't face me?
He's in for a restless night andtoo many whiskies, not a great
(29:46):
combination.
Me, I'm not bothered.
Tonight, I'll sleep better thanlast.
The woman of my dreams is on avisit tomorrow.
During the three and a halfyears I was in prison, I wrote
(00:03):
over a million words by hand.
Tales from the Jails is acontemporaneous account of my
life, and attempts to thriverather than merely survive
whilst incarcerated.
Most names have been changed,but the events have not.
Episode 33 T he Meat Wagon.
(00:37):
It is the 15th of the ninth,2016.
Incarceration never ceases todeliver surprises, most of them
not very pleasant.
What a 48 hours it has been.
I'm on the eve of a POCAhearing, which I was only made
aware of yesterday.
(00:59):
Of all the people to deliver thenews, it was the person who
hated me more than the judge,Toenails.
I cannot help with smile at howsimilar they are.
Like siblings sharing the samemalevolent DNA and as such, both
consumed with trying to destroyme.
(01:22):
It must have killed Toenails tohold back his delight, but he
was holding back a second boutof bad news too that he was
savouring on.
Neil and I were due to beshipped out to Haverigg 100
miles away on the west coast ofCumbia, and he knew it.
(01:42):
He'd seen it on the list bychance and kept it quiet.
I remained composed as hedelivered the news from the
corner of his mouth.
My stomach turned like a wash onfull spin, but I found myself
saying, wow, that's a relief.
I've been wondering what wasgoing on with this POCA stuff.
(02:04):
It's a day out, isn't it, awayfrom here?
I'll be able to catch up with mylegals properly.
Toenails was gloating, althoughhis dodgy eye didn't give him
away, his silence did.
Just when I thought my world wasonce again collapsing, all my
(02:26):
efforts to survive to thispoint, Mr.
H appeared like a guardian angeland asked me had I put in for a
transfer.
Absolutely fucking not, was myfirst response and what's going
on, my second.
Thankfully he took both Neil andI off the ship out list and back
(02:48):
onto hold.
That means we can stay at Waltonand continue working in
reception.
I'm sure it must sound crazy.
Preferring to remain here thanto leave to a Cat C prison.
But ironically, it is not.
Visits for T and my family wouldbe a nightmare.
(03:10):
Things aren't great here, buttrekking every week for two and
a half hours one way andcancelled when the weather is
bad was not a consideration.
I'd be back at the beginning ina place that is having its own
horror stories leaking out.
Reception is the best job in theprison, and the perks in here
(03:31):
are far outweigh taking chancesthat a lower category prison is
going to be any better.
I'm strangely settled here,making the best of a very bad
situation.
I've written before, we can wakeup in our beds and by the end of
the day, be sleeping in anotherwithout any choice or notice.
(03:56):
No, for the foreseeable future,unless I'm shipped out, I'm
staying.
I didn't announce I was stayingto the lads straightaway.
No.
Instead I waited.
I knew Toenails and his gimpFlemmo would be desperate to
wind me up POCA one day andshipped out the next.
(04:20):
True to form they couldn't helpthemselves.
I stayed out of the way, keptbusy and was last at the lunch
table.
I wanted Toenails to havealready begun with the gloating,
with the rest of the lads.
He had everything he could havewished for.
My head fucked, being shippedout and 48 hours to wind me up
(04:43):
and probably be instigating onelast time to have me terrorized
through the doors.
For the first time in nearlyeight months, I wanted Toenails
and the gimp to be as sly and ashorrible as possible.
Here's the wounded soldier.
(05:04):
What happened to you?
Don't you feel like eating yourlunch?
Here y'are Flemmo will have yourjacket potato.
Flemmo laughed like cannedlaughter right on cue.
Yes, lads.
It's true.
I'm on the list for the ship outalong with Neil.
(05:26):
Gutted for you G, came from Dan.
That was nice.
It's true lads.
Poor Neil and I are booked onthe ship out bus.
Mr.
H has just pulled me to confirmit.
Told ya, came from Toenails.
But lads, Mr.
(05:47):
H then asked me would I like tostay.
You made it clear I'm better offhere and I and my fellow friend
Neil can stay as long as wewish.
Something about really good ladsare hard to come by down here.
Something else about you can'ttrust people.
I was in dramatic thespian mode.
(06:11):
Toenails went silent, Flemmochoked on his fat meal, and I
continued.
Speaking of trust, especiallyamongst us lads, you know, the
prison code stuff, all togetherdown here.
Well, lads, what it flushed outwas our prison oracle knew Neil
(06:32):
and I were on the bus.
And he didn't tip us off early.
Imagine, he hates me that muchhe was prepared to throw you
under the bus, Neil.
The reality is lads, we justcannot trust him or Flemmo.
That's not what fucking happens,was about as far as Toenails
(06:53):
got.
this time, he was sliced andsavoured slowly by me.
Regardless of what comes nextwith him, I'm outing him in
front of the rest of the lads.
Worse for you, my friend, is youknow you should not have
informed me.
It's privileged information, butyou could not help yourself.
(07:17):
You were so desperate to gloatand fuck with me that in doing
so, you put a noose around yourown fucking neck.
Did you throw me under the busthen, was his first response.
No, I did not.
I'm not a grass.
But you think you are so clever,desperate to see me suffer that
(07:41):
you ended up shining a lightupon yourself and put a noose
around your own neck.
Lost your appetite?
Here y'are, Flemmo will help youout.
You could cut the air with aknife.
Of course, I'm fully aware thatmy response to Dumb and Dumber
may provoke a worse backlash.
Toenails was not only wounded,worse, the lads knew the facts
(08:06):
about the situation.
The devious duo was now fullyexposed.
The lads never said a word and Ileft the table.
It's difficult to describe inwords the constant bombardment
from Toenails.
It's never subtle and alwayssly.
(08:27):
I was obviously curious howToenails may respond.
A wounded animal can bedangerous.
However, for now I have far morepressing concerns.
By 4:00 PM Jeremy, my solicitor,was informing me in a legal
visit that the judge was holdingcourt for my POCA hearing.
(08:49):
My arch nemesis, or I his, mustonce again do battle.
Maybe I'm being naive, still ona high from the lunchtime duel,
but somehow it didn't feel likea battle right now.
I'm feeling stronger again, andalthough prison has no easy
days, somehow I feel like I'm ina good place.
(09:16):
The woman of my dreams loves me.
I've made it this far againstall odds, and in the short term,
I'm staying here.
Contrary to the judge's damningwords that I am a man of no good
character, I can enter thecourtroom knowing I have more
integrity than he.
(09:37):
I care, I tell the truth and Ilove.
It's daunting what lays ahead,but I'm ready.
I say this without anyarrogance.
Strange as it may sound, Ibelieve one day the truth will
out.
(09:59):
The Beatles movie premiere is inLiverpool Today.
Hollywood stars and musiclegends descend on my hometown
as I write in my cell only twomiles from the action.
But it could be on a differentplanet, such is the void between
us.
Ron Howard's rocumentary focuseson unseen footage of the Fab
(10:21):
Four in the wild days of theiryouth and the height of their
chaotic fame.
Paul and Ringo have attended thebig night, and the closest I am
to the red carpet premiere iswatching it on the tiny TV.
I cannot help smiling at theirony.
Crime is bigger than both theBeatles and Liverpool Football
(10:43):
Club in this city, and I amnestled in the epicenter of one
of the most criminally mindedgroup of men in Europe, and it's
chaos of a different kind.
It's the eve of POCA, and I'llbe returning to the courtroom in
the Queen Elizabeth Courts.
A place that holds no goodmemories.
(11:06):
Jeremy said the judge hasdelayed his retirement to deal
with my case.
I think that says everything.
He cannot rest until he's buriedme.
Apparently the word amongst thelegals in general is no one can
believe I managed to secure alegal team for the appeal.
(11:29):
I'm actually aware the stakesare high and the judge will be
sharpening his blade once again.
The reality between the two ofus is that if I win my appeal,
well, it exposes the judge morethan anyone else.
And although his retirement isimminent, this will kill his
reputation.
(11:51):
And the so-called legacy willhave to be rewritten.
It's the 16th of ninth, 2016.
It's the big day.
(12:12):
I didn't sleep much through thenight.
It's not unusual in Hotel Waltonwith its shocking reviews on
TripAdvisor.
The guard didn't knock with apolite good morning G, no, he
flashed the light and, alrightmate, Cour t, see you at seven.
AM, that is.
(12:34):
In this cramped cell with thetoilet attached, not to be
confused with an en suite, trygetting ready without waking
your pad mate.
Only one coffee, t he realitybeing, I didn't want to be
desperate for the toilet andbeing purposely denied.
I've danced that tango before.
Nothing is made easy.
(12:55):
In fact, I'm expecting to betreated worse than ever.
Sadly, I could only wash in thesink.
There is no sharp suit for theoccasion.
No, it's black jeans and a plaingray T-shirt that looked like it
had been sprayed on.
I'm in good shape and can'tdeny, I wanted the judge and his
(13:17):
cronies to see I hadn't fallenapart.
I was strong again.
The last thing I did whenleaving the sleeping wing was
post a birthday card to mydaughter and a letter to T.
I was expecting to be slungstraight into the G4S meat
wagon, but instead, down inreception, I was allowed to make
(13:39):
myself a coffee and relax in thekitchen.
The officers on duty were chattyand jovial with me, and this
helped me to remain relaxed at atime when usually anyone in my
position would be highlyanxious.
Mr.
B put an end to the fun,chomping on toast, stains on his
shirt and smelling of BO in fullprize prick mode.
(14:02):
He told me I could not take mybook to read.
Mr.
S called me at 8.
30 and I did the walk of shameonto the meat wagon, subjected
to cuffed, loaded, then lockedinto the box.
Imagine an aeroplane toilet,then half its size and comfort.
Then imagine if you can, thatit's never been cleaned.
(14:27):
Cuffed and squeezed into adehumanizing space.
A tour but it is not.
A window seat of a differentkind.
I can see out of the porthole,but the outside world cannot see
in.
If you have claustrophobia, Iguarantee you're having an
attack.
What caught me by surprise weremy thoughts and feelings as we
(14:50):
exited the security gate andreentered the real world for the
first time in eight months.
Within seconds, memories of athousand kind flooded back.
I'd travelled up and down theseroads hundreds of times in my
life.
(15:10):
I didn't notice at first, butI'd started to sing to myself In
My Life by The Beatles.
Ahead was a 20 minute tour ofthe city.
And here I was reflectingthrough a song.
There are places I remember, allmy life, though some have
(15:43):
changed some forever, not forbetter, some have gone and some
remain.
(16:04):
All these places had theirmoments...
How does a person in thissurreal position not reflect on
one's own life?
My life was woven into thebricks and mortar of the city.
Most roads have my footprints.
(16:24):
I was born here 51 years ago andnow I'm resident in its
notorious prison.
We sat idling at the trafficlights.
A white van pulled up alongside.
It was a local builders.
The window was down and the ladswere smoking and joking about
the occupants of our bus.
(16:47):
Scousers at their worst.
Further on, my chariot of doomand discomfort crossed Queens
Drive, the artery that links thenorth of the city to the south.
We diverted through Kirkdale.
That was another decayingborough.
(17:07):
Then we turned onto VauxhallRoad, and I smiled as the canal
appeared.
Yes.
A canal that runs through thecity.
It winds and wanders its way tothe Albert Dock.
I thought of the Scouse hippies.
They bring their barges throughhere en route to the River
Festival.
(17:28):
I never make that trip.
Usually I rock up at the AlbertDock and make a guest
appearance.
I love to give it the old,permission to come aboard,
followed by, remember lads, I'vegot the official skipper's
licence.
Sadly, the canal seemed morelike Walton.
It was now a flight tippingparadise, overgrown and unloved.
(17:53):
As we passed the Eldonianestate, another modern community
born out of inner city housing,I swelled with emotion.
We passed the social club, myUncle Tommy's funeral wake was
held there.
An ex inmate of Walton broke myhalcyon thoughts.
(18:13):
I recognized him immediately.
He left Walton about a monthago.
He was walking along the road inflip flops, although he looked
like he'd been out all night.
I smiled when he looked directlyat the bus, almost into it.
(18:34):
He, like all of us who have beenin the back of the meat wagon,
his look was one of, I've beenthere before.
I fucking hated it.
And I feel sorry for the ladsstuck in the back.
They're probably on the way tocourt, which was true of course.
The van slowed down as weapproached the city centre.
(18:57):
It was peak time and everyonewas in a rush except me.
What have I got to rush for?
Memory after memory laid on mymind.
Over 30 years of my life spentworking and socializing in one
square mile.
(19:18):
The stories, the people, theevents, all whispering to me at
the same time.
Such was the tsunami ofnostalgia.
We passed the YMCA, although nowonly reads YM.
The CA has disappeared.
It did look like a cross betweena rehab and a fucked up mecca,
(19:41):
and that was only from theoutside.
Ironically, not next door, butmetres further on, is the
Mercedes garage with the big AMGletters adorning in its front.
It made me think of the raidback in 2010.
I drove home to meet the policein one of the best cars Mercedes
(20:03):
had made to date, a CL 55 AMG.
It drove like it was floating onair, looked amazing, cool, and
classy, and luxurious with aproper engine under the bonnet.
What a contrast to this meatwagon with someone else's piss
(20:23):
running through the cubicle.
Reality checks come in alldifferent forms, sizes, and
smells.
There is no one compares withyou and these memories lose
(20:45):
their meaning...
here I am.
An outcast in my own city ofbirth, and yet thousands of
memories, thousands of momentsthat I've lived and breathed,
stare back at me with a hauntedlook.
(21:05):
But of all these friends andlovers, There is no one compares
to you...
and these memories lose theirmeaning when I think of love as
(21:38):
something new.
Ironically, I'm now a prisoner,in one of the most notorious
landmarks.
Not far from anyone and yet amillion light years away.
I've been in the city centresince I was 16 and first left
(22:00):
school and now 51, looking atthe shadows I've left behind.
Boundary Street.
I had such plans for thebuilding.
The Waterloo Warehouse, whereRichard, my old business partner
and best buddy, lived back inthe early years of publishing
(22:23):
and bands and dreams withoutlimits.
The Liver Building looksmajestic as much as gothic, as
we turned into the Stalag 17court building.
Underground.
The last time I was here, I wasleaving in one of these wagons
(22:44):
after receiving a seven yearlife bomb.
Suddenly life, the day ahead andhow things change rapidly and
never in your favour, well, theycome sharply into focus.
I wasn't blocking out what tookplace here, the trauma.
(23:07):
No, somehow it feels almost likemy mind has put up automatic
defences.
One thing is for certain, whenyour confidence begins to drain,
you know powerless is returninglike a Christian being thrown to
the lions.
The bus descends from daylightinto an underground car park.
(23:31):
It's dark, oppressive, and onedoesn't feel like a VIP.
No, we all feel fucked.
I have more freedom working inreception than here in the
bowels of the Queen ElizabethCourts.
It's a kaleidoscope of thoughtscolliding with a sick in the pit
(23:51):
of your stomach feeling, theoptimism that left Walton lost
in Beatles songs was lost inless than a breath the moment
the darkness arrived.
I asked the guard who escortedme, could I have a non-smoking
cell?
A tip from the lads inreception.
(24:12):
There's less chance of beingcaught up with the real
scallies, aka, the cutting crewthat fill cells.
Angry, abusive, and superdickheads and not my idea of a
fun day out.
Luckily, a five foot by 10 footone was available.
The best I could do whilewaiting without having a clue
(24:32):
what lay ahead was half meditateand half hope my legals turn up.
If I open my eyes, then I had achoice of facing waste
splattered across the walls, orread the graffiti buried below
it.
There's blood too, just to addsome colour.
(24:54):
It was two hours before the doorwas unlocked.
I was handcuffed and taken offto an interview room, the size
of a telephone box.
More waiting and more anxiety.
I remember thinking, I wish Iwas back in Walton.
The first surprise was De Niro'sbarrister appearing, looking
(25:16):
more disheveled than he didduring the trial.
He was nervous, but he was thatin the trial too, and looked
more afraid than JMC did a fewweeks back.
I'm a pro, so I made him feelwelcome, relaxed the atmosphere,
told him he looked well.
Are you here with good news orbad news?
(25:39):
What's happening to my legalteam?
The good news was that my absentbarrister Lennon is, in his
words, as good as it gets.
He explained that as I probablyknew, not much would happen
today.
Apparently, De Niro and Johnnywere upstairs and to expect a
new hearing day to be set.
(26:01):
But the best thing he said werehis parting words.
You look really well, George.
Are you working out much?
I couldn't help laughing and Ithink the T-shirt must be
working.
The last time we'd seen eachother was sentencing day.
And to be honest, for all mywoes, ironically, I looked
(26:27):
healthier and happier.
For not so good news and notsuch a good start, suddenly I
felt re-energized and didn'treally care about the rest of
the day.
It was another two hours, satwith thoughts and boredom, then
the key unlocked the door.
(26:48):
It was the same script,handcuffed and marched to an
interview room, somewhatfilthier than before.
The barrister reappeared lookingmore nervous than earlier.
He explained that the judge,whilst he was stuttering and
spluttering, had decided to dealwith the hearing and matters
(27:09):
without me.
Honestly, it made me laugh andhim smile.
He leaned over and saidnervously, but wanting to, if I
may speak candidly, George, Ithink what has just gone on and
(27:30):
then proceeded to confide histhoughts out loud.
It's not for this page, thatwould be unfair and I was
grateful, but I can say this,apparently the judge is trying
to firstly smooth and oil thePOCA through so that I and my
(27:51):
legal team don't or can'tchallenge it.
Secondly, it would appear thatthe judge is acutely aware of
the pedigree of my barristerLennon, but there's more.
The judge is very keen inkeeping hold of the POCA case,
but at the same time, he wantedto drive it through quickly so
(28:12):
that he can retire.
Me, his final victory, crushed.
Again, his parting words werethe ones that resonated the
most.
You'll bounce back from this,George, honestly.
You will.
I told my client, and Johnny,you're looking good.
I mean, who gets that during theworst of times?
(28:38):
Ironically, I sensed thedespicable Machiavellian system
was nervous.
The judge left me down in thecells below the courts while he
coerced the proceedings.
His treatment of me speaksvolumes as to his contempt for
me, but more, he wants me out ofthe way.
(29:01):
In the courtroom, I may have tobe silent, but I can take notes
of what is really taking placeand that terrifies them.
You know, what comes next.
Another two hours in a cell.
They're just playing with me, tofuck with my head, and play with
my emotions and grind me down.
(29:25):
The rest of the day passedquickly, and most of it a blur.
Back on top bunk, I'm smiling asI write.
Is it possible that the judgekept me in the cells all day
because he couldn't face me?
He's in for a restless night andtoo many whiskies, not a great
(29:46):
combination.
Me, I'm not bothered.
Tonight, I'll sleep better thanlast.
The woman of my dreams is on avisit tomorrow.
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