July 20, 2025 • 20 mins
We're full to capacity in Walton. We never went to work on Saturday because we were full. History in the making, again. The news before we left for work this morning was that a prisoner commits suicide every three days in prison. It was quoted as an epidemic. The prison system blamed it on mental health issues, but it's far murkier than that. Morale is low amongst officers and lads are desperate, and desperate people do desperate things.
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
@talesfromthejailspodcast
@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 43 Happy Birthday It'sthe 20th of November, 2016.
(00:43):
How could I not pen a few wordson reaching 52 years of age from
behind the door in WaltonPrison?
Another first.
I could never have imagined lifewould lead me here, but here I
am.
Last year I was on trial.
Two years ago I was treated to asuite in the Corinthia.
(01:06):
Now I'm in suite 3-17 on B wing.
Last year still feels raw.
We were three quarters of theway through the trial, when I
still believed the calamitousprosecution would collapse and
be thrown out, 11 of us will befree from the nightmare, and I
will finally clear my name andhave vindication.
(01:28):
What a journey.
How does one not reflect onone's old life?
T and my daughter came in tovisit me and we had a silent
party around the table.
By that, I mean we had lots offun, but without the roaring
laughter that draws attention.
T said my mother has sent 50pounds into my prison account.
(01:52):
Told them none of the cards havearrived yet.
Probably be waiting for me underthe door when I get back from
work later.
The two hours passed like twominutes, and although we had a
fab time, no tears, the realitywas, when it's time to go, it's
noticeable.
As we did a final family hug, Iwhispered to them, no tears,
(02:16):
we're in Walton visits.
We burst out laughing and itbroke the emotional moment that
was bubbling.
Two minutes later, I was in theholding room the size of a cell
with 30-odd pissed offprisoners.
How can I not reflect at 52,that there is less time ahead
than lived so far.
(02:37):
Worse, I'm in prison.
My freedom hijacked and my nameand credibility in tatters.
T and my daughter have gone tosee my mother and John Boy,
cheer them up and tell them I'mfine and not to worry.
I'm lucky, we're close as afamily and all the women have
been really strong throughoutthis ordeal.
(02:59):
Calls and visits help, butnothing replaces or compares to
being together on our own termsrather than the prison's.
After the visit, it was straightback to work, a cross between
feeling high off the visit andthe grim reality of my life
presently.
There's no avoiding that,regardless of my optimistic
(03:22):
outlook.
I'll be honest.
I just don't want to listen toany of the usual prison vomit,
friendly enough, but not in themood.
That's how I feel.
I stayed in the bedding storesand kept busy, mainly doing
nothing, but most certainly notin the market to chat.
(03:43):
I was also itching to finish andread my cards.
That's where love is, not inhere in reception.
This love vacuum.
You can only imagine my dismayto return to the cell at 6.55
and no mail pushed under thedoor.
(04:04):
At least I've made it to bang upwithout anybody knowing I'm the
birthday boy, not even my padmate.
It's funny how life works, orshould I say, how the creative
mind works.
I found myself writing, notabout prison, but about a book
I've written prior to comingaway.
(04:26):
I'd always wanted to be awriter, especially by the time I
was 50.
And in an ironic way, I had thegood fortune to follow that
dream as a result of my lifebeing put on pause in 2011.
The legals were pursuing theclaim against the authorities,
trading standards, etc, and Iwas unable to work as such.
(04:48):
I did two things, went fishingevery day for two years and
wrote 50 Ways To Be A...
well, that title's to berevealed further down the line.
It's very commercial.
Hundreds of thousands of words.
And now, sat in a cell inWalton, strange and as random as
(05:08):
it sounds, but I'm thinking ofbringing back one of the main
characters from book one, tobook two, Cleo.
Stuck in here it's impossiblejust to pick it up and write
without referring to the draftsfrom book one.
However, I will never forget theending I originally wrote on a
(05:28):
writing retreat up in Peebles,in the Scottish Borders.
No matter how tough it has been,T has not only loved me
unconditionally, but she'sbelieved in me and she actively
encouraged me to become awriter.
We lost everything, and T hasnot only held it together with
(05:49):
humility and strength, she'sworked tirelessly just to pay
the bills to survive.
She used to book me a week awayin a secluded cottage somewhere
and let me go and write for aweek without distractions, ie,
the frustrations of the case.
The week in Peebles turned outto be a funny experience.
(06:10):
I went there to finish achapter, but instead managed to
grow that chapter significantlyto my dismay during the first
few days.
It was a big old house and itslocation was perfect.
Loads of character, gardens thatlooked like they could have been
in an enchanted fairy tale, butat night, eerie and pitch black
(06:31):
outside.
There was a babbling brook thatran through it.
I remember thinking It would bethe perfect place to film The
Raven.
Each morning I would rise early,coffee, news and train, took my
mountain bike with me.
I'd pop into the village forsome breakfast, and then back to
(06:52):
write until late in the night.
I remember being frustrated byThursday that I hadn't made the
progress I'd planned for and Tlaughing on the phone that the
chapter was now the length of abook.
My frustrations werelighthearted.
Writer's grinch I called it, butI was returning on Saturday and
(07:14):
feeling the pressure.
T parted with, remember, all youhave to do is finish the chapter
and, I love you.
I remember reading the epicchapter.
It was now 98 pages long, butthe creative process works in
mysterious ways.
(07:34):
It can be very unpredictable.
I've been lucky.
I'm still creative.
It never seems to have dried upor waned.
I've never suffered withwriter's block or creative
block.
No.
Instead, I suffer with no offswitch.
It was as late as Friday afterreturning from the local shop,
(07:56):
which was 10 miles away.
Cabin fever can kick in whenyou're doing long, epic days of
writing, although I can be up onmy feet reading the dialogue,
etc, out loud.
I'd rattled around the big oldhouse with six bedrooms, three
bathrooms, two lounges, but witha tiny old fashioned kitchen.
(08:19):
Ironically, I only used onebedroom, one bathroom, the
kitchen and the lounge, with thebig bay window and a desk.
T laughs that I only use oneplate, one cup, and a knife,
spoon and fork.
She said, I always leave theplaces like I haven't been
there.
I remember it being about 6:00PM and I was sat in this old
(08:41):
Queen Ann chair covered in wellworn ox-blood coloured leather.
I remember thinking, decades ofpeople must have sat in this
chair, all with interestingstories.
And here I was, a Scouser onbail with ambitions to be a
writer, writing a book called 50Ways to Be A...
(09:04):
laughable really.
The creative tsunami hit withoutany notice and I responded
accordingly.
Action.
I've learned when these momentsappear, seize them before the
moment is lost.
Write I did.
(09:24):
It was flowing.
Like I didn't even have to thinkabout it.
Channelling would be a betterway to describe it.
Cleo was the topic of Chapter10.
I was nearing the end of thebook, as in the first draft.
I'd already felt the writer'sattachment to characters when I
killed off Serge.
(09:45):
I'd felt emotional for daysafter that however, Cleo was on
a whole new level.
For four hours, I typed, pacedthe room and rambled words, and
typed and typed and typed again.
The dump down is the key,letting the words pour out.
(10:05):
Everything can be altered,changed, or edited later.
That's the crafting andpolishing stages.
But here and now is where thebest material is.
It's when the genesis appears.
No limits, no boundaries, nolaws or rules, unafraid, blank
pages waiting for somethingoriginal.
(10:26):
The stuff you are most afraid towrite, I believe, is where your
best material thrives.
Why am I writing this now?
Probably'cause I'm beingreflective on my birthday and
thinking about something I verymuch enjoy doing.
People connect with charactersand even if my prison journal
(10:47):
makes it to the outside, thencharacters will play an
important part in capturing theevents and experiences of life
in this prison purgatory, thisoppressive breaker of men's
spirits.
I can't stop laughing as I writethis, but I was lying on top
(11:07):
bunk when an officer opened thedoor, Mr.
R, to be precise.
Happy birthday, G! Your missusstill loves ya, as he handed me
my mail, all opened of course,and he'd obviously read the
happy birthday cards, especiallythe one from T.
(11:29):
Macca was up on his feet.
You kept that quiet Snake Hips,and then proceeded to tell The
Smurf through the pipes and thegags followed from there.
Jane, one of my old friends,said in my birthday card, this
is preparing you for somethinggreater, babe.
(11:50):
Honestly, I don't know whether Ishould laugh or cry.
Thursday.
Thankfully, my birthday's behindme.
It's been a busy morning.
(12:10):
Luckily we managed to get to thegym.
Back from there and then cut twoheads, Macca's and Neil's, both
on visits tomorrow.
I've extended the service tobeard trimming too.
After lunch I helped do aletter, or a COMP 1 app, as they
call them.
Philly's legals too, as indigest them, and then explain
(12:31):
them.
That are 27 lads just finished amega trial.
Now all waiting for sentencing.
That's topical with everyone youspeak to.
Thankfully, Toenails and NumberOne are keeping me at arm's
length.
They're still treading oneggshells and have diverted
their attentions to Blobby.
(12:53):
The two Despicables have beenterrorising him through the door
at night for over a week, justgone eight o'clock every night.
His head is fucked, and they'rebeing seen for who they really
are.
The more they do it, the worseit makes them look.
But ironically, they're not ontoit.
(13:15):
I've noticed how things havechanged or evolved for me over
the past 10 months.
Lads come over far morefrequently to chat or open up.
Some officers call me George,and although there's always
grief not far away or ladssticking pins in GW dolls, I've
come a long way.
(13:37):
Lads often throw my own phrasesand lines back at me, and I see
that as a good sign, especiallythe, soak it up, and, rise above
it.
And they always challenge me on,there are no shortcuts.
Out of the blue the big newslanded.
(13:58):
One of the Manchester murderlads received a not guilty on a
retrial.
That does not happen often.
Chappy walked free with a notguilty.
I saw Troy later on the wing.
He looked crestfallen.
I thought he might be thrilledat the news for Chappy, but
(14:19):
maybe he wishes it was himescaping life behind bars.
It's a strange feeling for me, Icannot help feel thrilled for
Chappy, and compassion andsadness for Troy, and I'm glad I
still have that in me.
To people in the outside world,especially the victims' loved
(14:40):
ones, sympathy or compassionwill sound wrong towards any of
these lads.
I would expect that to benormal.
But in here, sharing thesetrials and moments together,
somehow it's not about whatthey've done, but more who I see
and meet at this junction inlife.
(15:04):
As for Chappy, I imagine he'sdrunk already and celebrating
like he's won the lottery.
If he lost, he was receiving 30years plus, just like the rest
of the lads, and the rest of hislife would've been behind bars.
Truss has been on the newsagain, defending herself and the
(15:28):
prisons.
Ironically, 10 minutes afterlistening to her nonsense, news
has broken that a prison downsouth, inmates were managing to
have fast food dropped off, andlads are drunk inside on hooch.
Again, all filmed and releasedon phones from inside.
(15:48):
Truss has said, prisoners arenot living like they're
partying.
Really?
Jeremy is in tomorrow, so longas there isn't another lockdown.
I remain quietly optimistic thatat some point in the next 12
months I'll have cleared my nameand be back amongst my loved
(16:09):
ones.
The judge has done everything todisrupt and derail my legal aid
application.
He's fully aware we're gearingup for an appeal.
Jeremy believes he's trying tobury me with the POCA, and then
retire victorious.
(16:30):
Thankfully, I managed to speakon the phone to JB.
He's trying to raise the£4,200for the court transcripts or a
segment of them.
They're expensive.
They're key to the appeal,they're the moment the judge
crosses the line.
I'm back in suite 3-17 on a verycold November evening when it
(16:54):
dawns on me.
Four weeks from now, Christmaswill be upon us, a new year a
week after that.
We're back early from workagain.
there are no spaces or beds.
We're full to capacity inWalton.
We never went to work onSaturday because we were full.
(17:16):
History in the making, again.
The news before we left for workthis morning was that a prisoner
commits suicide every three daysin prison.
It was quoted as an epidemic.
The prison system blamed it onmental health issues, but it's
far murkier than that.
(17:37):
Morale is low amongst officersand lads are desperate, and
desperate people do desperatethings.
The funding promised is quickfix stuff and beyond the
crumbling Victorian mortar,bricks, steel, and barbed wire,
there are far worse crisestaking place.
(17:57):
It's akin to being stuck in abroken lift on the top floor and
below, everything is on fire.
Why no one puts this place underthe microscope is beyond me.
It's clearly broken, and not fitfor purpose, covering up cracks
and hiding the true level ofchaos, violence, abuse, and
(18:19):
deprivation.
This is prison in 21st CenturyBritain.
We're on the world stage tellingeveryone else how they should be
living their lives, and this ishow we treat people really.
If things could not get any moresurreal or ironic we arrived at
(18:42):
work in time this morning to seea cherry picker with a security
officer in it, rising up andtowards another tangled drone
with its swinging parcel stillattached.
It's entertainment for 10minutes.
Lads on the wing hurling abuse,and one cell gutted that their
parcel didn't make it.
(19:04):
Over the past few weeks, it'sbeen swarms of drones, the
unmistakable humming, whirringsound.
I've said before, it'sentertaining if it's early, and
a pain after midnight.
150 cells now condemned and notfit for purpose, and this is the
fourth day the prison has beenalmost on lockout.
(19:28):
Absolutely no room at HMPWalton.
Mr.
P was on, so no gym.
He's part of the problem whenhe's working.
He acts like a Voldemortcharacter.
Mr.
P loves to upset theequilibrium.
He made a point of landing inthe kitchen when we were brewing
(19:49):
up.
He was gloating at the suicidedata.
Weak.
Can't cope.
Don't do the crime lads if youcan't do the time.
Weak, that's what they are.
He's horrible and represents theworst of the prison service.
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 43 Happy Birthday It'sthe 20th of November, 2016.
(00:43):
How could I not pen a few wordson reaching 52 years of age from
behind the door in WaltonPrison?
Another first.
I could never have imagined lifewould lead me here, but here I
am.
Last year I was on trial.
Two years ago I was treated to asuite in the Corinthia.
(01:06):
Now I'm in suite 3-17 on B wing.
Last year still feels raw.
We were three quarters of theway through the trial, when I
still believed the calamitousprosecution would collapse and
be thrown out, 11 of us will befree from the nightmare, and I
will finally clear my name andhave vindication.
(01:28):
What a journey.
How does one not reflect onone's old life?
T and my daughter came in tovisit me and we had a silent
party around the table.
By that, I mean we had lots offun, but without the roaring
laughter that draws attention.
T said my mother has sent 50pounds into my prison account.
(01:52):
Told them none of the cards havearrived yet.
Probably be waiting for me underthe door when I get back from
work later.
The two hours passed like twominutes, and although we had a
fab time, no tears, the realitywas, when it's time to go, it's
noticeable.
As we did a final family hug, Iwhispered to them, no tears,
(02:16):
we're in Walton visits.
We burst out laughing and itbroke the emotional moment that
was bubbling.
Two minutes later, I was in theholding room the size of a cell
with 30-odd pissed offprisoners.
How can I not reflect at 52,that there is less time ahead
than lived so far.
(02:37):
Worse, I'm in prison.
My freedom hijacked and my nameand credibility in tatters.
T and my daughter have gone tosee my mother and John Boy,
cheer them up and tell them I'mfine and not to worry.
I'm lucky, we're close as afamily and all the women have
been really strong throughoutthis ordeal.
(02:59):
Calls and visits help, butnothing replaces or compares to
being together on our own termsrather than the prison's.
After the visit, it was straightback to work, a cross between
feeling high off the visit andthe grim reality of my life
presently.
There's no avoiding that,regardless of my optimistic
(03:22):
outlook.
I'll be honest.
I just don't want to listen toany of the usual prison vomit,
friendly enough, but not in themood.
That's how I feel.
I stayed in the bedding storesand kept busy, mainly doing
nothing, but most certainly notin the market to chat.
(03:43):
I was also itching to finish andread my cards.
That's where love is, not inhere in reception.
This love vacuum.
You can only imagine my dismayto return to the cell at 6.55
and no mail pushed under thedoor.
(04:04):
At least I've made it to bang upwithout anybody knowing I'm the
birthday boy, not even my padmate.
It's funny how life works, orshould I say, how the creative
mind works.
I found myself writing, notabout prison, but about a book
I've written prior to comingaway.
(04:26):
I'd always wanted to be awriter, especially by the time I
was 50.
And in an ironic way, I had thegood fortune to follow that
dream as a result of my lifebeing put on pause in 2011.
The legals were pursuing theclaim against the authorities,
trading standards, etc, and Iwas unable to work as such.
(04:48):
I did two things, went fishingevery day for two years and
wrote 50 Ways To Be A...
well, that title's to berevealed further down the line.
It's very commercial.
Hundreds of thousands of words.
And now, sat in a cell inWalton, strange and as random as
(05:08):
it sounds, but I'm thinking ofbringing back one of the main
characters from book one, tobook two, Cleo.
Stuck in here it's impossiblejust to pick it up and write
without referring to the draftsfrom book one.
However, I will never forget theending I originally wrote on a
(05:28):
writing retreat up in Peebles,in the Scottish Borders.
No matter how tough it has been,T has not only loved me
unconditionally, but she'sbelieved in me and she actively
encouraged me to become awriter.
We lost everything, and T hasnot only held it together with
(05:49):
humility and strength, she'sworked tirelessly just to pay
the bills to survive.
She used to book me a week awayin a secluded cottage somewhere
and let me go and write for aweek without distractions, ie,
the frustrations of the case.
The week in Peebles turned outto be a funny experience.
(06:10):
I went there to finish achapter, but instead managed to
grow that chapter significantlyto my dismay during the first
few days.
It was a big old house and itslocation was perfect.
Loads of character, gardens thatlooked like they could have been
in an enchanted fairy tale, butat night, eerie and pitch black
(06:31):
outside.
There was a babbling brook thatran through it.
I remember thinking It would bethe perfect place to film The
Raven.
Each morning I would rise early,coffee, news and train, took my
mountain bike with me.
I'd pop into the village forsome breakfast, and then back to
(06:52):
write until late in the night.
I remember being frustrated byThursday that I hadn't made the
progress I'd planned for and Tlaughing on the phone that the
chapter was now the length of abook.
My frustrations werelighthearted.
Writer's grinch I called it, butI was returning on Saturday and
(07:14):
feeling the pressure.
T parted with, remember, all youhave to do is finish the chapter
and, I love you.
I remember reading the epicchapter.
It was now 98 pages long, butthe creative process works in
mysterious ways.
(07:34):
It can be very unpredictable.
I've been lucky.
I'm still creative.
It never seems to have dried upor waned.
I've never suffered withwriter's block or creative
block.
No.
Instead, I suffer with no offswitch.
It was as late as Friday afterreturning from the local shop,
(07:56):
which was 10 miles away.
Cabin fever can kick in whenyou're doing long, epic days of
writing, although I can be up onmy feet reading the dialogue,
etc, out loud.
I'd rattled around the big oldhouse with six bedrooms, three
bathrooms, two lounges, but witha tiny old fashioned kitchen.
(08:19):
Ironically, I only used onebedroom, one bathroom, the
kitchen and the lounge, with thebig bay window and a desk.
T laughs that I only use oneplate, one cup, and a knife,
spoon and fork.
She said, I always leave theplaces like I haven't been
there.
I remember it being about 6:00PM and I was sat in this old
(08:41):
Queen Ann chair covered in wellworn ox-blood coloured leather.
I remember thinking, decades ofpeople must have sat in this
chair, all with interestingstories.
And here I was, a Scouser onbail with ambitions to be a
writer, writing a book called 50Ways to Be A...
(09:04):
laughable really.
The creative tsunami hit withoutany notice and I responded
accordingly.
Action.
I've learned when these momentsappear, seize them before the
moment is lost.
Write I did.
(09:24):
It was flowing.
Like I didn't even have to thinkabout it.
Channelling would be a betterway to describe it.
Cleo was the topic of Chapter10.
I was nearing the end of thebook, as in the first draft.
I'd already felt the writer'sattachment to characters when I
killed off Serge.
(09:45):
I'd felt emotional for daysafter that however, Cleo was on
a whole new level.
For four hours, I typed, pacedthe room and rambled words, and
typed and typed and typed again.
The dump down is the key,letting the words pour out.
(10:05):
Everything can be altered,changed, or edited later.
That's the crafting andpolishing stages.
But here and now is where thebest material is.
It's when the genesis appears.
No limits, no boundaries, nolaws or rules, unafraid, blank
pages waiting for somethingoriginal.
(10:26):
The stuff you are most afraid towrite, I believe, is where your
best material thrives.
Why am I writing this now?
Probably'cause I'm beingreflective on my birthday and
thinking about something I verymuch enjoy doing.
People connect with charactersand even if my prison journal
(10:47):
makes it to the outside, thencharacters will play an
important part in capturing theevents and experiences of life
in this prison purgatory, thisoppressive breaker of men's
spirits.
I can't stop laughing as I writethis, but I was lying on top
(11:07):
bunk when an officer opened thedoor, Mr.
R, to be precise.
Happy birthday, G! Your missusstill loves ya, as he handed me
my mail, all opened of course,and he'd obviously read the
happy birthday cards, especiallythe one from T.
(11:29):
Macca was up on his feet.
You kept that quiet Snake Hips,and then proceeded to tell The
Smurf through the pipes and thegags followed from there.
Jane, one of my old friends,said in my birthday card, this
is preparing you for somethinggreater, babe.
(11:50):
Honestly, I don't know whether Ishould laugh or cry.
Thursday.
Thankfully, my birthday's behindme.
It's been a busy morning.
(12:10):
Luckily we managed to get to thegym.
Back from there and then cut twoheads, Macca's and Neil's, both
on visits tomorrow.
I've extended the service tobeard trimming too.
After lunch I helped do aletter, or a COMP 1 app, as they
call them.
Philly's legals too, as indigest them, and then explain
(12:31):
them.
That are 27 lads just finished amega trial.
Now all waiting for sentencing.
That's topical with everyone youspeak to.
Thankfully, Toenails and NumberOne are keeping me at arm's
length.
They're still treading oneggshells and have diverted
their attentions to Blobby.
(12:53):
The two Despicables have beenterrorising him through the door
at night for over a week, justgone eight o'clock every night.
His head is fucked, and they'rebeing seen for who they really
are.
The more they do it, the worseit makes them look.
But ironically, they're not ontoit.
(13:15):
I've noticed how things havechanged or evolved for me over
the past 10 months.
Lads come over far morefrequently to chat or open up.
Some officers call me George,and although there's always
grief not far away or ladssticking pins in GW dolls, I've
come a long way.
(13:37):
Lads often throw my own phrasesand lines back at me, and I see
that as a good sign, especiallythe, soak it up, and, rise above
it.
And they always challenge me on,there are no shortcuts.
Out of the blue the big newslanded.
(13:58):
One of the Manchester murderlads received a not guilty on a
retrial.
That does not happen often.
Chappy walked free with a notguilty.
I saw Troy later on the wing.
He looked crestfallen.
I thought he might be thrilledat the news for Chappy, but
(14:19):
maybe he wishes it was himescaping life behind bars.
It's a strange feeling for me, Icannot help feel thrilled for
Chappy, and compassion andsadness for Troy, and I'm glad I
still have that in me.
To people in the outside world,especially the victims' loved
(14:40):
ones, sympathy or compassionwill sound wrong towards any of
these lads.
I would expect that to benormal.
But in here, sharing thesetrials and moments together,
somehow it's not about whatthey've done, but more who I see
and meet at this junction inlife.
(15:04):
As for Chappy, I imagine he'sdrunk already and celebrating
like he's won the lottery.
If he lost, he was receiving 30years plus, just like the rest
of the lads, and the rest of hislife would've been behind bars.
Truss has been on the newsagain, defending herself and the
(15:28):
prisons.
Ironically, 10 minutes afterlistening to her nonsense, news
has broken that a prison downsouth, inmates were managing to
have fast food dropped off, andlads are drunk inside on hooch.
Again, all filmed and releasedon phones from inside.
(15:48):
Truss has said, prisoners arenot living like they're
partying.
Really?
Jeremy is in tomorrow, so longas there isn't another lockdown.
I remain quietly optimistic thatat some point in the next 12
months I'll have cleared my nameand be back amongst my loved
(16:09):
ones.
The judge has done everything todisrupt and derail my legal aid
application.
He's fully aware we're gearingup for an appeal.
Jeremy believes he's trying tobury me with the POCA, and then
retire victorious.
(16:30):
Thankfully, I managed to speakon the phone to JB.
He's trying to raise the£4,200for the court transcripts or a
segment of them.
They're expensive.
They're key to the appeal,they're the moment the judge
crosses the line.
I'm back in suite 3-17 on a verycold November evening when it
(16:54):
dawns on me.
Four weeks from now, Christmaswill be upon us, a new year a
week after that.
We're back early from workagain.
there are no spaces or beds.
We're full to capacity inWalton.
We never went to work onSaturday because we were full.
(17:16):
History in the making, again.
The news before we left for workthis morning was that a prisoner
commits suicide every three daysin prison.
It was quoted as an epidemic.
The prison system blamed it onmental health issues, but it's
far murkier than that.
(17:37):
Morale is low amongst officersand lads are desperate, and
desperate people do desperatethings.
The funding promised is quickfix stuff and beyond the
crumbling Victorian mortar,bricks, steel, and barbed wire,
there are far worse crisestaking place.
(17:57):
It's akin to being stuck in abroken lift on the top floor and
below, everything is on fire.
Why no one puts this place underthe microscope is beyond me.
It's clearly broken, and not fitfor purpose, covering up cracks
and hiding the true level ofchaos, violence, abuse, and
(18:19):
deprivation.
This is prison in 21st CenturyBritain.
We're on the world stage tellingeveryone else how they should be
living their lives, and this ishow we treat people really.
If things could not get any moresurreal or ironic we arrived at
(18:42):
work in time this morning to seea cherry picker with a security
officer in it, rising up andtowards another tangled drone
with its swinging parcel stillattached.
It's entertainment for 10minutes.
Lads on the wing hurling abuse,and one cell gutted that their
parcel didn't make it.
(19:04):
Over the past few weeks, it'sbeen swarms of drones, the
unmistakable humming, whirringsound.
I've said before, it'sentertaining if it's early, and
a pain after midnight.
150 cells now condemned and notfit for purpose, and this is the
fourth day the prison has beenalmost on lockout.
(19:28):
Absolutely no room at HMPWalton.
Mr.
P was on, so no gym.
He's part of the problem whenhe's working.
He acts like a Voldemortcharacter.
Mr.
P loves to upset theequilibrium.
He made a point of landing inthe kitchen when we were brewing
(19:49):
up.
He was gloating at the suicidedata.
Weak.
Can't cope.
Don't do the crime lads if youcan't do the time.
Weak, that's what they are.
He's horrible and represents theworst of the prison service.
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