August 31, 2025 • 31 mins
It's the 25th of December, 2016. Imagine waking up on Christmas morning with a person you only met a few months ago, not your partner or soulmate, but your pad mate, in HMP. I'm on top bunk and he's down below, two lives colliding.
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.
(00:23):
Episode 49 Christmas In PrisonIt's the 23rd of December, 2016.
(00:44):
Less than 48 hours from now andWalton will supposedly have a
white Christmas regardless ofthe weather forecast.
However, imagine if you arebeing released from prison,
particularly this grim, violentcesspit.
It's the last day a prisoner canbe released.
(01:05):
If it's not today, then it'sChristmas in a cell.
The holding room is full with aneclectic bunch of lads.
For some, it'll be superexciting whilst for others, the
majority by the look of it, it'sdaunting, scary, and uncertain.
(01:25):
Imagine leaving with only 40pounds or so in your pocket,
carrying a bag of unwashedclothes as your only
possessions.
I suppose the irony here in thebedding stores is Rossini is
playing on Funeral FM.
It is the William Tell Overture,more commonly known if you're of
(01:47):
a certain age as the theme fromthe Lone Ranger.
It has a poetic spirit about it,sweeping one along into
adventure in the name ofjustice.
One thing for certain, some ofthose lads may be terrified of
what awaits, but they'll begalloping like William Tell out
(02:08):
of here.
One gets the sense, by way oflistening to them only metres
away, that far too many havenowhere to go.
No loved one waiting, no familyto return to for initial
support.
Imagine then, if you havenowhere to go.
(02:31):
Hostels have a terriblereputation and often lads get
into more trouble because of thegrim environment.
Every one of them must gostraight to probation upon
release.
Miss that, and there's a warrantout for you and a recall.
I know how tough it was for meafter they burst through the
(02:52):
doors and we lost the businessand subsequently everything
else.
Debt consumed us as the fallouttook its toll.
I was lucky.
I had a family, loved ones andfriends to lean on for support
during the desperate years.
(03:13):
Here and now, it looks like nohope or future for most of the
lads in the holding room.
Within an hour they'll be gone.
Meanwhile of we residentsremaining here, well, many are
showing the signs of theChristmas blues appearing, the
(03:34):
pain of the separation from thefamily or partner.
How can those with families notbe sat in their cells with a
head fuck of regrets and a bellyfull of powerlessness and
hopelessness to do anythingabout it?
Over the next few days, there'llbe head fucks and tears behind
(03:57):
the steel closed door.
There'll be tough men lying ontheir sad bunk, dwelling on the
life lost and what could havebeen.
I'm curious how many of us onChristmas day will drift into
quiet contemplation.
It really will be surreal wakingup in a cell in Walton on
(04:20):
Christmas morning, no T wishingme Merry Christmas with love and
fun and festive spirit.
It could be worse.
Lads who are leaving thismorning could be waking up under
a sheet of cardboard aftersleeping rough or in a police
cell, and on a one way ticketback to here.
(04:43):
Releases went on until after 10o'clock.
Then there was the drama of thetransfer.
He swallowed a razor blade so hecouldn't leave.
Other than the insanity of it,you have to ask yourself why was
he so desperate to stay here?
After the excitement and mayhemof the morning, reception
(05:06):
slumped into the moody blues,the lads wished they were not
here, forgetting somehow whythey are here.
The chaplain passed through.
He commented on my upbeat spiritcompared to what appeared to be
his, sombre.
He asked me what my favouriteChristmas song or carol was and
(05:30):
how were the family, especiallythe parents.
He knows they're very ill.
I told him The Snowman anddefinitely anything from a
choir.
I like listening to King'sCollege, Cambridge at Christmas.
He laughed at that, noting howfor a man who follows no faith,
(05:52):
there's often a connection toit.
It's the architecture, I said,the music, the art, and probably
the symbolism.
I remember thinking, although Ididn't say it, hypocrisy too.
I like the chaplain, not pushyat all.
A good listener and likes alaugh, or has a good sense of
(06:14):
humour.
His parting words were, I hearyou won the Celebrity Jungle
sweep.
And then he shook my hand,wished me an early Merry
Christmas and was gone.
Out of the blue and totallyunexpected at three o'clock-ish
(06:36):
when most of the civvie staffhad already left for the
Christmas break, who should rockup but careers George with a
governor.
The place went silent when I wascalled into the room of doom,
but it was the best news I couldhear under the circumstances.
My Open University course hasbeen confirmed.
(07:00):
Hallelujah! I'm officially onit.
I think it was April when Ifirst started the application
process and a week over thedeadline date of the 16th.
What a journey to reach thispoint.
T will be thrilled.
Governor Hartless was full ofsmiles and looked as happy and
(07:22):
relieved as George, who deservesthe most credit.
This would never have got acrossthe line without him.
What a name too, GovernorHartless, but he's actually
okay.
Always stops when he is down andchats to me in an inquisitive
manner more than aninterrogation.
(07:43):
In the own days, back in theoffice, today would be the
Christmas party, end of the yearaward, restaurant, food, drinks,
wages, and Christmas bonuses.
We had a policy back then, noone went home skint for
Christmas.
If they needed a sub, then itwas given.
(08:04):
I don't believe you should workall year only to have a
miserable Christmas due to nomoney, no matter what the
reasons.
Champagne would flow like it wasnever going to run out and I
would leave first, not a drinkin me.
It was their time to celebrateand have fun, and those years
(08:24):
were behind me.
Nothing worse than a sober bossat an office Christmas party
with a cash kitty to blow.
We finished work early today, soback in the cell and locked
behind the door by 6.30.
The lads on the wing werealready singing Bing Crosby's
I'm Dreaming of a WhiteChristmas.
(08:47):
My padmate said, how do theythink that's clever?
Do they think officers don'tknow?
The whole fucking prison knows.
Guarantee we'll be drug testedin the next few days G, no way
they want positive results ofcoke for the figures.
Looks terrible for the prison.
(09:19):
It's the 25th of December, 2016.
Imagine waking up on Christmasmorning with a person you only
met a few months ago, not yourpartner or soulmate, but your
pad mate, in HMP.
I'm on top bunk and he's downbelow, two lives colliding.
(09:39):
And here we are in cell 3.17 onChristmas morning in Walton.
Nothing prepares you for this,not unless you've experienced it
before.
I was awake early, but my sleepypad mate was motionless until
nearly seven.
Then I leapt off top bunk themoment he murmured, kettle on,
(10:01):
news on and Merry ChristmasMacca.
This is for real, and not just anightmare we're going to wake up
out of.
I wondered whether the whiteChristmas would begin before
we're unlocked, or would it besaved until later, maybe until
after lunch or after the Queen'sspeech?
I think they call that aChristmas message now.
(10:25):
There's prison hooch about.
J told me that yesterday.
He tasted it.
They used fruit from thekitchens apparently.
Mr.
R opened us up at two minutespast eight.
Merry Christmas lads, hopeyou're not doing a Bing Crosby
on us today.
(10:46):
That was our greeting.
It was always going to be aqueue for the phone.
I had to wait 20 minutes andthen only 10 minutes at best to
ring three people.
T, my daughter and Margie andJohn Boy, the parents.
T's at her mother's.
That was surreal, saying MerryChristmas to everyone at 8.20 in
(11:10):
the morning.
I had to because it may be theonly chance I get.
Luckily, they were all in thekitchen making breakfast,
surreal.
I'm acting and T is acting asthough everything is just normal
when the reality is we've had anatom bomb go off in our lives
(11:31):
and relationship.
I woke my daughter up and toldher, I'm sorry I'm not around.
T sent her a present on behalfof both of us, and my mother was
sad.
I told her I'd be cookingChristmas lunch again next year.
I must be honest, I was nearlyin tears, because I'm not sure
(11:53):
either of them will make it thatfar.
I'm surrounded by hundreds oftestosterone fuelled alpha males
on Christmas Day.
Some angry, some down, and somesomehow hoping that today will
be better than yesterday.
Banged up by 9:00 AM.
(12:15):
Christmas lunch starts at 11:30,so it's behind the door until
then.
It's nice to have the carols onin the background.
Macca said he's going to try andsleep most of Christmas away.
We laughed that the lads arehaving proper fallouts over the
TV schedule and we don't give afuck.
(12:36):
He's sleeping and I'm writing.
He's feeling it.
Two teenage lads and his parentsold.
His way of coping with it all isto sleep it off.
I can't help but think of thelads who were crying at the
phone earlier.
Speaking to their young kids.
(12:59):
It starts off as jovial, and twominutes in when the missus must
pass the phone to the kids, theybubble in front of the lads all
queuing.
It's awkward, it's sad, and it'sreal.
Many of these lads have got fiveto 10 years ahead of them like
this.
(13:21):
I noticed at the time, for mostof us, it's the first time.
Having to make a call like this.
Christmas in Walton, separatedfrom your loved ones.
However, there were two falloutstoo.
Dickheads giving theirgirlfriends or partners grief
about going out last night, andthen today.
(13:42):
They're young, and these guysare insane with jealousy and
toxic feelings.
One of them actually said, fuckoff then, that's your Christmas
fucking present.
Not a fucking watch.
Slag! Then he apologized to usall as he slammed down the phone
(14:04):
hoping he hadn't broke it.
I saw ex-Number One.
He's a broken man.
Sheepish.
He ignored me.
Not that I was bothered.
And Kenco, yes, Kenco.
On Christmas Eve we wereexpecting to be on cleaning
duties and done by lunch.
(14:26):
I was on a visit with T in theafternoon and my head was
preoccupied with that.
Midmorning, a ship out fromKirkham Prison appeared on the
board.
An hour later who should turnup, perky but dishevelled, but
Kenco, shipped out from Kirkham,one of the cat D nirvanas, and
here an hour later.
(14:48):
He stunk of booze, but a coupleof stripes as he called them,
perked him back up.
He'd been in the Hilton Hotel inManchester the day before on
what they call a town visit, outfrom 8.30 in the morning until
seven or eight at night.
See if you can be trusted andreturn.
(15:09):
Kenco obviously failed the test.
Apparently he'd had a fewcocktails too many and still
wanted to party back in thebillet.
They raided his pad at 6:00 AMthe morning of Christmas Eve.
He was drunk, on the phone andcoke on the table.
In the old days when he workedhere, he was popular with a lot
(15:32):
of the officers.
They put a cloak of protectionaround him, Mr.
C in particular.
He had a soft spot for him.
He and all the other officers,they threw him in the VP room.
He's let them down, although atthe time I don't think he could
see it, maybe later in the cellwhen he's sobered up properly,
(15:56):
it will hit him, that he blewit.
His opportunity to progress,blown.
He was on B-wing when I returnedfrom my visit.
He called me from behind hiscell door as I walked by.
Can you believe it G-Dubz,Hilton yesterday and Walton
(16:20):
tonight.
Holding T and saying goodbye atthe end of the visit was tough,
but listening to kids cry whenthey were leaving was harder
than what we were going through.
Imagine the impact it's havingon children.
(16:41):
I'm lucky.
My daughter is older, in herearly twenties, and able to live
her life independently away fromit all.
I cannot imagine, but there mustbe shame and stigma.
It's the ripple effect fromthese events.
It goes with the territory I'mafraid.
(17:02):
She's home at her mother's forChristmas, off to see her nan
just about now, mid-morning,without me.
TV is grim today.
The big movies are The Lion Kingand Frozen, and later Gavin and
Stacey.
No idea what that is, or theBake Off.
(17:22):
I'm hoping that on the other sixZ channels we have, there'll be
Only Fools and Horses.
The bad news is the traditionalBond movie has been moved to
Tuesday.
Skyfall.
We saw that together in 2012.
Still got the tickets.
T used to keep all the movietickets.
(17:44):
There's a box full of themsomewhere.
Friday night at the movies.
T, me and my daughter, we musthave done at least one every
other week.
We'd stopped going to theTrafford Centre and went through
a new phase at FACT, inLiverpool.
A bit more arthouse feel backthen, not as rowdy.
(18:05):
We'd discuss and review themovie on the journey back home.
I remember we all thought Bardemwas a terrible Bond villain, a
ridiculous plot, even so, if itwas on today, I'd watch it
again.
Wow.
Christmas lunch was a treat, ahairy leg of chicken or a slice
(18:28):
of turkey.
The traditional route, althoughwe all agreed the slice had
never seen a turkey.
Surprisingly, ex Number One wasserving, a sign not only of his
fall from the dizzy heights ofthe shit pile, but also life
behind the door for 23 hoursevery day.
(18:50):
He was on gravy duty, somethingI cannot stand, but I did have a
dollop of stuffing along withthree roast potatoes and a scoop
of mixed veg straight out of thefreezer and boiled to mush at
9:30 this morning.
Luckily, I squeezed in anotherlove call to T.
She was by herself this time.
(19:11):
We laughed and nearly cried, butI told her, I dare not as I'm
off to the servery for Christmaslunch.
It was straight after bang upfrom lunch that we smelled the
first waft of green.
Half an hour later, the tuneswent on.
One of the cleaners on the floorbelow.
That was a line and a sign.
(19:32):
By the time the Queen's speechcame on at three o'clock, the
place was a cross betweenAmsterdam and Creamfields.
I found myself comparingChristmas trees.
The Queen's, positioned over herleft shoulder and mine
downstairs in Reception in primeposition.
The Walton one is sadly not inthe same league, but the one I
(19:54):
do at home, that's better thanthe Queen's.
I spend hours on that.
We always buy a real tree, eightor nine foot, no overkill,
classy, glistening.
It's noticeable that Charles'photograph with her is sat
beside her.
The old Duke demoted to a tablealmost off screen.
(20:17):
The changing of the guard isalready at play it seems.
Planting seeds, allchoreographed.
She said about inspiring peopleand the word inspire originally
means to breathe in.
I never knew that.
By the end, I was laughing withMacca about the statement a few
(20:38):
weeks back during the strike.
The one that said somethingabout it's easier to obtain
drugs in most prisons thantoilet rolls and clean clothes.
By the time I'd laughed with himand succumbed to Christmas songs
on Top of the Pops, the placehad become livelier and my pad
mate was back under his blanketsnoring and oblivious.
(21:02):
Our tea was in a paper bag, aturkey sandwich, cheese and
crackers believe it or not, likethey were from 1980, there was a
banana and a Marathon, which isnow a Snickers, a bottle of
water and a baby size milk fortomorrow morning.
That's usually gone in two cupsof coffee.
(21:24):
But we were offered theChristmas pudding, which was
missing at lunch, apparently ithadn't defrosted in time.
It's strange.
It's only 6:00 PM but you canhear the madness as much as the
sadness beyond our door.
Macca said, at least we don'thave to go shopping, looking for
(21:45):
sofas tomorrow.
Then he used the bathroom andthen retired for the night.
It wasn't even 6.20.
I ate two tins of rice puddingduring Space Cowboys.
Ridiculous but funny and worth awatch if you're stuck in a cell.
I mix some raisins and sultanasin too, as a treat.
(22:09):
Cold in a plastic blue bowl, buta treat and a guilty pleasure,
all the same.
There's no gym today ortomorrow, although we are in
work.
Thankfully.
The courts are open for those incells in custody.
Work will be a relief from themonotony here in the cell on the
wing.
(22:30):
What's worse is it's a skeletonstaff for days.
Prison staff have their ownfamilies and loved ones at
Christmas.
OSGs pick up a lot of theshifts.
They're support staff and notreal officers.
At least half a dozen of themwork down in reception.
Most, they're all right.
(22:50):
They work in the prop room withthe gear coming in, whether
direct from the lads when theyland, usually the stuff that's
confiscated or, the stuff sentin from loved ones, items on the
list.
Mr.
W.
He's horrible, talks shite whenhe's trying to be one of the
guys, but power has gone to hishead.
(23:14):
Mr.
P refers to them as opens andshuts gates.
That's what OSGs are.
You get the impression that Mr.
W was in the Army Reserves atsome point.
He's a job's worth and horrible.
I read my book for a couple ofhours, although I was like the
(23:35):
nodding dog.
Macca woke up about nine and wechatted and had a laugh for an
hour listening to thesoundscape, which by now had
started to fade.
We agreed it was probably weakcoke.
He was surprised we still hadpower and it hadn't blown.
(23:55):
We decided to keep the JaffaCakes for the James Bond movie
on Tuesday.
I used the bathroom before thenews at 10 and had a sink
shower.
By the time I'd cleaned myteeth, Macca had turned the
light off and put the TV remoteon top bunk.
He was back under the covers andfacing the wall.
(24:16):
He muffled, I'm done.
I lay on top bunk, the TV on,but no sound.
It was quite hypnotic, the lightand reflections bouncing off the
walls.
I wondered if there'd dare to bedrones tonight.
Skeleton staff and all, but thenwho wants to be out in the
(24:38):
middle of the night tonight,Christmas night, flying in drugs
to Walton dangling from a drone.
I switched the silent TV off at11.
The room went to darkness.
For a brief moment, I edged ourblacked out curtain slightly
open, enough for a glimpse ofthe moon, or not.
(25:02):
I imagine I won't sleep muchtonight.
Thoughts of T and trying to makesense of this crazy situation.
I really am in a cell in WaltonPrison on Christmas day and
night.
A week from now it'll almost bemidnight on New Year's Eve,
Jules fucking Holland andHogmanay.
(25:23):
I laughed out loud and it wokemy pad mate up.
T had said on the visityesterday, don't forget to write
it all down.
Macca asked me what was sofunny.
I told him, a white Christmas.
It was rave for men only.
Kids' parties go on longer withsoft drinks.
(25:46):
And what happened to the famousprison hooch?
Boxing Day I woke this morningearly.
My first thoughts were, yeah, Ireally am in prison.
(26:10):
As soon as Macca gave a wakingyawn, I switched on the news and
straight off top bunk.
Hit the floor to, George Michaelis dead.
53 years of age, 12 months olderthan me.
What a voice.
What a catalogue of songs.
What a legacy.
(26:30):
What a tragedy.
But sadly, poor Georgie boy wasfucked up and still fighting his
demons.
Last Christmas was only onyesterday during Top of the Pops
Christmas special on some Bchannel.
I think they said he was 17 whenhe wrote it.
(26:50):
I've spent the better part of myadult life listening to his
soulful voice.
Ladies and Gentlemen was analbum that formed the backdrop
to my early days with T when shelived down south and I up north.
Night after night, we'd speak onthe phone until late.
(27:11):
I would have this album playingin the background.
Whenever I hear a track fromthat album, I always think of T.
Jesus to a Child.
I Can't Make You Love Me.
Praying For Time.
One More Try.
(27:31):
It's really sad and I mustadmit, makes me think of my own
mortality.
I've lived an incredible life,but imagine dying in here, in
prison.
None of us knows when our timeis up.
However, this place heightensthe odds against me.
(27:54):
I've seen up close and personalthe indignity of death in
prison.
Nothing has changed in 500years.
Last night, the rave for menonly seemed to fade into the
temperament of an old people'shome and finished much earlier
than we expected.
(28:15):
Today, thankfully, we're back inwork.
Lads who have been arrested overthe last couple of days and held
in police cells are then shippedin front of a magistrate judge
and if remanded, land here.
I was writing in the bed storeswhen an officer shouted for a
Listener.
(28:37):
All the lads threw my name inthe hat.
A young lad called Jamie landed.
Mr.
S told me he's nervous aboutwhat to expect behind the door.
He was 21, but he looked 16.
I chatted to him for half anhour, putting his mind at ease,
when Philly bulldozed in andlightened the moment.
(29:00):
For fuck's sake, you're betteroff in here kid.
Those police cells are fuckinghell.
I mean, you're sleeping on thefloor, no meds, no tv, no
shower.
You'll be watching Match of theDay here tonight kid.
Fucking hell, is that a cigaryou're rolling there?
(29:22):
An observations to the youngJamie making a rollie.
Jamie burst out laughing, thenasked, will he get his backy
stolen off him later?
Not if you smoke it all firstkid, said Philly.
Then he rolled himself a smoke.
I thought he was going to handit to young Jamie, a sort of,
(29:44):
this is how you do it.
Sadly not.
Off like Charlie Chaplin tosmoke it in the holding room.
I took him through with Mr.
S to A wing.
It's the induction wing whereyou go first for a couple of
nights.
It helps lads acclimatize to theplace before the bleak, brutal
(30:05):
reality of the main wings.
I told Derek he was nervous andcould he keep an eye on him?
He's a top bloke, helped meloads in the early days.
Still here and always cheery.
Jamie was in a safe pair ofhands for the next few days I
thought.
I indulge myself in an hour longlove call to T, in the big
(30:28):
holding room that was empty, andso the phone was free.
We spoke of George Michael'sdeath and our early love that
blossomed and grew into what wehave today.
We were back behind the door bythree o'clock.
Wing is alive with the football.
Boxing Day football is big inhere.
(30:49):
Boxing Day football is bigeverywhere.
Then I spent the evening on topbunk, thinking about next week,
the 1st of January, 2017.
Next year I could or should beout, the appeal won and back in
T's arms, back in my daughter'sand parents' lives and this
(31:11):
nightmare, this life bomb, willbe behind us.
I started the day on porridgeand I'm ending it with two
bowls, mixed with raisins,sultanas and a banana.
Christmas is done for 2016.
It's close my eyes time, wishingT was in my arms, and we were
(31:35):
listening to George Michael withonly the light of a candle.
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.
(00:23):
Episode 49 Christmas In PrisonIt's the 23rd of December, 2016.
(00:44):
Less than 48 hours from now andWalton will supposedly have a
white Christmas regardless ofthe weather forecast.
However, imagine if you arebeing released from prison,
particularly this grim, violentcesspit.
It's the last day a prisoner canbe released.
(01:05):
If it's not today, then it'sChristmas in a cell.
The holding room is full with aneclectic bunch of lads.
For some, it'll be superexciting whilst for others, the
majority by the look of it, it'sdaunting, scary, and uncertain.
(01:25):
Imagine leaving with only 40pounds or so in your pocket,
carrying a bag of unwashedclothes as your only
possessions.
I suppose the irony here in thebedding stores is Rossini is
playing on Funeral FM.
It is the William Tell Overture,more commonly known if you're of
(01:47):
a certain age as the theme fromthe Lone Ranger.
It has a poetic spirit about it,sweeping one along into
adventure in the name ofjustice.
One thing for certain, some ofthose lads may be terrified of
what awaits, but they'll begalloping like William Tell out
(02:08):
of here.
One gets the sense, by way oflistening to them only metres
away, that far too many havenowhere to go.
No loved one waiting, no familyto return to for initial
support.
Imagine then, if you havenowhere to go.
(02:31):
Hostels have a terriblereputation and often lads get
into more trouble because of thegrim environment.
Every one of them must gostraight to probation upon
release.
Miss that, and there's a warrantout for you and a recall.
I know how tough it was for meafter they burst through the
(02:52):
doors and we lost the businessand subsequently everything
else.
Debt consumed us as the fallouttook its toll.
I was lucky.
I had a family, loved ones andfriends to lean on for support
during the desperate years.
(03:13):
Here and now, it looks like nohope or future for most of the
lads in the holding room.
Within an hour they'll be gone.
Meanwhile of we residentsremaining here, well, many are
showing the signs of theChristmas blues appearing, the
(03:34):
pain of the separation from thefamily or partner.
How can those with families notbe sat in their cells with a
head fuck of regrets and a bellyfull of powerlessness and
hopelessness to do anythingabout it?
Over the next few days, there'llbe head fucks and tears behind
(03:57):
the steel closed door.
There'll be tough men lying ontheir sad bunk, dwelling on the
life lost and what could havebeen.
I'm curious how many of us onChristmas day will drift into
quiet contemplation.
It really will be surreal wakingup in a cell in Walton on
(04:20):
Christmas morning, no T wishingme Merry Christmas with love and
fun and festive spirit.
It could be worse.
Lads who are leaving thismorning could be waking up under
a sheet of cardboard aftersleeping rough or in a police
cell, and on a one way ticketback to here.
(04:43):
Releases went on until after 10o'clock.
Then there was the drama of thetransfer.
He swallowed a razor blade so hecouldn't leave.
Other than the insanity of it,you have to ask yourself why was
he so desperate to stay here?
After the excitement and mayhemof the morning, reception
(05:06):
slumped into the moody blues,the lads wished they were not
here, forgetting somehow whythey are here.
The chaplain passed through.
He commented on my upbeat spiritcompared to what appeared to be
his, sombre.
He asked me what my favouriteChristmas song or carol was and
(05:30):
how were the family, especiallythe parents.
He knows they're very ill.
I told him The Snowman anddefinitely anything from a
choir.
I like listening to King'sCollege, Cambridge at Christmas.
He laughed at that, noting howfor a man who follows no faith,
(05:52):
there's often a connection toit.
It's the architecture, I said,the music, the art, and probably
the symbolism.
I remember thinking, although Ididn't say it, hypocrisy too.
I like the chaplain, not pushyat all.
A good listener and likes alaugh, or has a good sense of
(06:14):
humour.
His parting words were, I hearyou won the Celebrity Jungle
sweep.
And then he shook my hand,wished me an early Merry
Christmas and was gone.
Out of the blue and totallyunexpected at three o'clock-ish
(06:36):
when most of the civvie staffhad already left for the
Christmas break, who should rockup but careers George with a
governor.
The place went silent when I wascalled into the room of doom,
but it was the best news I couldhear under the circumstances.
My Open University course hasbeen confirmed.
(07:00):
Hallelujah! I'm officially onit.
I think it was April when Ifirst started the application
process and a week over thedeadline date of the 16th.
What a journey to reach thispoint.
T will be thrilled.
Governor Hartless was full ofsmiles and looked as happy and
(07:22):
relieved as George, who deservesthe most credit.
This would never have got acrossthe line without him.
What a name too, GovernorHartless, but he's actually
okay.
Always stops when he is down andchats to me in an inquisitive
manner more than aninterrogation.
(07:43):
In the own days, back in theoffice, today would be the
Christmas party, end of the yearaward, restaurant, food, drinks,
wages, and Christmas bonuses.
We had a policy back then, noone went home skint for
Christmas.
If they needed a sub, then itwas given.
(08:04):
I don't believe you should workall year only to have a
miserable Christmas due to nomoney, no matter what the
reasons.
Champagne would flow like it wasnever going to run out and I
would leave first, not a drinkin me.
It was their time to celebrateand have fun, and those years
(08:24):
were behind me.
Nothing worse than a sober bossat an office Christmas party
with a cash kitty to blow.
We finished work early today, soback in the cell and locked
behind the door by 6.30.
The lads on the wing werealready singing Bing Crosby's
I'm Dreaming of a WhiteChristmas.
(08:47):
My padmate said, how do theythink that's clever?
Do they think officers don'tknow?
The whole fucking prison knows.
Guarantee we'll be drug testedin the next few days G, no way
they want positive results ofcoke for the figures.
Looks terrible for the prison.
(09:19):
It's the 25th of December, 2016.
Imagine waking up on Christmasmorning with a person you only
met a few months ago, not yourpartner or soulmate, but your
pad mate, in HMP.
I'm on top bunk and he's downbelow, two lives colliding.
(09:39):
And here we are in cell 3.17 onChristmas morning in Walton.
Nothing prepares you for this,not unless you've experienced it
before.
I was awake early, but my sleepypad mate was motionless until
nearly seven.
Then I leapt off top bunk themoment he murmured, kettle on,
(10:01):
news on and Merry ChristmasMacca.
This is for real, and not just anightmare we're going to wake up
out of.
I wondered whether the whiteChristmas would begin before
we're unlocked, or would it besaved until later, maybe until
after lunch or after the Queen'sspeech?
I think they call that aChristmas message now.
(10:25):
There's prison hooch about.
J told me that yesterday.
He tasted it.
They used fruit from thekitchens apparently.
Mr.
R opened us up at two minutespast eight.
Merry Christmas lads, hopeyou're not doing a Bing Crosby
on us today.
(10:46):
That was our greeting.
It was always going to be aqueue for the phone.
I had to wait 20 minutes andthen only 10 minutes at best to
ring three people.
T, my daughter and Margie andJohn Boy, the parents.
T's at her mother's.
That was surreal, saying MerryChristmas to everyone at 8.20 in
(11:10):
the morning.
I had to because it may be theonly chance I get.
Luckily, they were all in thekitchen making breakfast,
surreal.
I'm acting and T is acting asthough everything is just normal
when the reality is we've had anatom bomb go off in our lives
(11:31):
and relationship.
I woke my daughter up and toldher, I'm sorry I'm not around.
T sent her a present on behalfof both of us, and my mother was
sad.
I told her I'd be cookingChristmas lunch again next year.
I must be honest, I was nearlyin tears, because I'm not sure
(11:53):
either of them will make it thatfar.
I'm surrounded by hundreds oftestosterone fuelled alpha males
on Christmas Day.
Some angry, some down, and somesomehow hoping that today will
be better than yesterday.
Banged up by 9:00 AM.
(12:15):
Christmas lunch starts at 11:30,so it's behind the door until
then.
It's nice to have the carols onin the background.
Macca said he's going to try andsleep most of Christmas away.
We laughed that the lads arehaving proper fallouts over the
TV schedule and we don't give afuck.
(12:36):
He's sleeping and I'm writing.
He's feeling it.
Two teenage lads and his parentsold.
His way of coping with it all isto sleep it off.
I can't help but think of thelads who were crying at the
phone earlier.
Speaking to their young kids.
(12:59):
It starts off as jovial, and twominutes in when the missus must
pass the phone to the kids, theybubble in front of the lads all
queuing.
It's awkward, it's sad, and it'sreal.
Many of these lads have got fiveto 10 years ahead of them like
this.
(13:21):
I noticed at the time, for mostof us, it's the first time.
Having to make a call like this.
Christmas in Walton, separatedfrom your loved ones.
However, there were two falloutstoo.
Dickheads giving theirgirlfriends or partners grief
about going out last night, andthen today.
(13:42):
They're young, and these guysare insane with jealousy and
toxic feelings.
One of them actually said, fuckoff then, that's your Christmas
fucking present.
Not a fucking watch.
Slag! Then he apologized to usall as he slammed down the phone
(14:04):
hoping he hadn't broke it.
I saw ex-Number One.
He's a broken man.
Sheepish.
He ignored me.
Not that I was bothered.
And Kenco, yes, Kenco.
On Christmas Eve we wereexpecting to be on cleaning
duties and done by lunch.
(14:26):
I was on a visit with T in theafternoon and my head was
preoccupied with that.
Midmorning, a ship out fromKirkham Prison appeared on the
board.
An hour later who should turnup, perky but dishevelled, but
Kenco, shipped out from Kirkham,one of the cat D nirvanas, and
here an hour later.
(14:48):
He stunk of booze, but a coupleof stripes as he called them,
perked him back up.
He'd been in the Hilton Hotel inManchester the day before on
what they call a town visit, outfrom 8.30 in the morning until
seven or eight at night.
See if you can be trusted andreturn.
(15:09):
Kenco obviously failed the test.
Apparently he'd had a fewcocktails too many and still
wanted to party back in thebillet.
They raided his pad at 6:00 AMthe morning of Christmas Eve.
He was drunk, on the phone andcoke on the table.
In the old days when he workedhere, he was popular with a lot
(15:32):
of the officers.
They put a cloak of protectionaround him, Mr.
C in particular.
He had a soft spot for him.
He and all the other officers,they threw him in the VP room.
He's let them down, although atthe time I don't think he could
see it, maybe later in the cellwhen he's sobered up properly,
(15:56):
it will hit him, that he blewit.
His opportunity to progress,blown.
He was on B-wing when I returnedfrom my visit.
He called me from behind hiscell door as I walked by.
Can you believe it G-Dubz,Hilton yesterday and Walton
(16:20):
tonight.
Holding T and saying goodbye atthe end of the visit was tough,
but listening to kids cry whenthey were leaving was harder
than what we were going through.
Imagine the impact it's havingon children.
(16:41):
I'm lucky.
My daughter is older, in herearly twenties, and able to live
her life independently away fromit all.
I cannot imagine, but there mustbe shame and stigma.
It's the ripple effect fromthese events.
It goes with the territory I'mafraid.
(17:02):
She's home at her mother's forChristmas, off to see her nan
just about now, mid-morning,without me.
TV is grim today.
The big movies are The Lion Kingand Frozen, and later Gavin and
Stacey.
No idea what that is, or theBake Off.
(17:22):
I'm hoping that on the other sixZ channels we have, there'll be
Only Fools and Horses.
The bad news is the traditionalBond movie has been moved to
Tuesday.
Skyfall.
We saw that together in 2012.
Still got the tickets.
T used to keep all the movietickets.
(17:44):
There's a box full of themsomewhere.
Friday night at the movies.
T, me and my daughter, we musthave done at least one every
other week.
We'd stopped going to theTrafford Centre and went through
a new phase at FACT, inLiverpool.
A bit more arthouse feel backthen, not as rowdy.
(18:05):
We'd discuss and review themovie on the journey back home.
I remember we all thought Bardemwas a terrible Bond villain, a
ridiculous plot, even so, if itwas on today, I'd watch it
again.
Wow.
Christmas lunch was a treat, ahairy leg of chicken or a slice
(18:28):
of turkey.
The traditional route, althoughwe all agreed the slice had
never seen a turkey.
Surprisingly, ex Number One wasserving, a sign not only of his
fall from the dizzy heights ofthe shit pile, but also life
behind the door for 23 hoursevery day.
(18:50):
He was on gravy duty, somethingI cannot stand, but I did have a
dollop of stuffing along withthree roast potatoes and a scoop
of mixed veg straight out of thefreezer and boiled to mush at
9:30 this morning.
Luckily, I squeezed in anotherlove call to T.
She was by herself this time.
(19:11):
We laughed and nearly cried, butI told her, I dare not as I'm
off to the servery for Christmaslunch.
It was straight after bang upfrom lunch that we smelled the
first waft of green.
Half an hour later, the tuneswent on.
One of the cleaners on the floorbelow.
That was a line and a sign.
(19:32):
By the time the Queen's speechcame on at three o'clock, the
place was a cross betweenAmsterdam and Creamfields.
I found myself comparingChristmas trees.
The Queen's, positioned over herleft shoulder and mine
downstairs in Reception in primeposition.
The Walton one is sadly not inthe same league, but the one I
(19:54):
do at home, that's better thanthe Queen's.
I spend hours on that.
We always buy a real tree, eightor nine foot, no overkill,
classy, glistening.
It's noticeable that Charles'photograph with her is sat
beside her.
The old Duke demoted to a tablealmost off screen.
(20:17):
The changing of the guard isalready at play it seems.
Planting seeds, allchoreographed.
She said about inspiring peopleand the word inspire originally
means to breathe in.
I never knew that.
By the end, I was laughing withMacca about the statement a few
(20:38):
weeks back during the strike.
The one that said somethingabout it's easier to obtain
drugs in most prisons thantoilet rolls and clean clothes.
By the time I'd laughed with himand succumbed to Christmas songs
on Top of the Pops, the placehad become livelier and my pad
mate was back under his blanketsnoring and oblivious.
(21:02):
Our tea was in a paper bag, aturkey sandwich, cheese and
crackers believe it or not, likethey were from 1980, there was a
banana and a Marathon, which isnow a Snickers, a bottle of
water and a baby size milk fortomorrow morning.
That's usually gone in two cupsof coffee.
(21:24):
But we were offered theChristmas pudding, which was
missing at lunch, apparently ithadn't defrosted in time.
It's strange.
It's only 6:00 PM but you canhear the madness as much as the
sadness beyond our door.
Macca said, at least we don'thave to go shopping, looking for
(21:45):
sofas tomorrow.
Then he used the bathroom andthen retired for the night.
It wasn't even 6.20.
I ate two tins of rice puddingduring Space Cowboys.
Ridiculous but funny and worth awatch if you're stuck in a cell.
I mix some raisins and sultanasin too, as a treat.
(22:09):
Cold in a plastic blue bowl, buta treat and a guilty pleasure,
all the same.
There's no gym today ortomorrow, although we are in
work.
Thankfully.
The courts are open for those incells in custody.
Work will be a relief from themonotony here in the cell on the
wing.
(22:30):
What's worse is it's a skeletonstaff for days.
Prison staff have their ownfamilies and loved ones at
Christmas.
OSGs pick up a lot of theshifts.
They're support staff and notreal officers.
At least half a dozen of themwork down in reception.
Most, they're all right.
(22:50):
They work in the prop room withthe gear coming in, whether
direct from the lads when theyland, usually the stuff that's
confiscated or, the stuff sentin from loved ones, items on the
list.
Mr.
W.
He's horrible, talks shite whenhe's trying to be one of the
guys, but power has gone to hishead.
(23:14):
Mr.
P refers to them as opens andshuts gates.
That's what OSGs are.
You get the impression that Mr.
W was in the Army Reserves atsome point.
He's a job's worth and horrible.
I read my book for a couple ofhours, although I was like the
(23:35):
nodding dog.
Macca woke up about nine and wechatted and had a laugh for an
hour listening to thesoundscape, which by now had
started to fade.
We agreed it was probably weakcoke.
He was surprised we still hadpower and it hadn't blown.
(23:55):
We decided to keep the JaffaCakes for the James Bond movie
on Tuesday.
I used the bathroom before thenews at 10 and had a sink
shower.
By the time I'd cleaned myteeth, Macca had turned the
light off and put the TV remoteon top bunk.
He was back under the covers andfacing the wall.
(24:16):
He muffled, I'm done.
I lay on top bunk, the TV on,but no sound.
It was quite hypnotic, the lightand reflections bouncing off the
walls.
I wondered if there'd dare to bedrones tonight.
Skeleton staff and all, but thenwho wants to be out in the
(24:38):
middle of the night tonight,Christmas night, flying in drugs
to Walton dangling from a drone.
I switched the silent TV off at11.
The room went to darkness.
For a brief moment, I edged ourblacked out curtain slightly
open, enough for a glimpse ofthe moon, or not.
(25:02):
I imagine I won't sleep muchtonight.
Thoughts of T and trying to makesense of this crazy situation.
I really am in a cell in WaltonPrison on Christmas day and
night.
A week from now it'll almost bemidnight on New Year's Eve,
Jules fucking Holland andHogmanay.
(25:23):
I laughed out loud and it wokemy pad mate up.
T had said on the visityesterday, don't forget to write
it all down.
Macca asked me what was sofunny.
I told him, a white Christmas.
It was rave for men only.
Kids' parties go on longer withsoft drinks.
(25:46):
And what happened to the famousprison hooch?
Boxing Day I woke this morningearly.
My first thoughts were, yeah, Ireally am in prison.
(26:10):
As soon as Macca gave a wakingyawn, I switched on the news and
straight off top bunk.
Hit the floor to, George Michaelis dead.
53 years of age, 12 months olderthan me.
What a voice.
What a catalogue of songs.
What a legacy.
(26:30):
What a tragedy.
But sadly, poor Georgie boy wasfucked up and still fighting his
demons.
Last Christmas was only onyesterday during Top of the Pops
Christmas special on some Bchannel.
I think they said he was 17 whenhe wrote it.
(26:50):
I've spent the better part of myadult life listening to his
soulful voice.
Ladies and Gentlemen was analbum that formed the backdrop
to my early days with T when shelived down south and I up north.
Night after night, we'd speak onthe phone until late.
(27:11):
I would have this album playingin the background.
Whenever I hear a track fromthat album, I always think of T.
Jesus to a Child.
I Can't Make You Love Me.
Praying For Time.
One More Try.
(27:31):
It's really sad and I mustadmit, makes me think of my own
mortality.
I've lived an incredible life,but imagine dying in here, in
prison.
None of us knows when our timeis up.
However, this place heightensthe odds against me.
(27:54):
I've seen up close and personalthe indignity of death in
prison.
Nothing has changed in 500years.
Last night, the rave for menonly seemed to fade into the
temperament of an old people'shome and finished much earlier
than we expected.
(28:15):
Today, thankfully, we're back inwork.
Lads who have been arrested overthe last couple of days and held
in police cells are then shippedin front of a magistrate judge
and if remanded, land here.
I was writing in the bed storeswhen an officer shouted for a
Listener.
(28:37):
All the lads threw my name inthe hat.
A young lad called Jamie landed.
Mr.
S told me he's nervous aboutwhat to expect behind the door.
He was 21, but he looked 16.
I chatted to him for half anhour, putting his mind at ease,
when Philly bulldozed in andlightened the moment.
(29:00):
For fuck's sake, you're betteroff in here kid.
Those police cells are fuckinghell.
I mean, you're sleeping on thefloor, no meds, no tv, no
shower.
You'll be watching Match of theDay here tonight kid.
Fucking hell, is that a cigaryou're rolling there?
(29:22):
An observations to the youngJamie making a rollie.
Jamie burst out laughing, thenasked, will he get his backy
stolen off him later?
Not if you smoke it all firstkid, said Philly.
Then he rolled himself a smoke.
I thought he was going to handit to young Jamie, a sort of,
(29:44):
this is how you do it.
Sadly not.
Off like Charlie Chaplin tosmoke it in the holding room.
I took him through with Mr.
S to A wing.
It's the induction wing whereyou go first for a couple of
nights.
It helps lads acclimatize to theplace before the bleak, brutal
(30:05):
reality of the main wings.
I told Derek he was nervous andcould he keep an eye on him?
He's a top bloke, helped meloads in the early days.
Still here and always cheery.
Jamie was in a safe pair ofhands for the next few days I
thought.
I indulge myself in an hour longlove call to T, in the big
(30:28):
holding room that was empty, andso the phone was free.
We spoke of George Michael'sdeath and our early love that
blossomed and grew into what wehave today.
We were back behind the door bythree o'clock.
Wing is alive with the football.
Boxing Day football is big inhere.
(30:49):
Boxing Day football is bigeverywhere.
Then I spent the evening on topbunk, thinking about next week,
the 1st of January, 2017.
Next year I could or should beout, the appeal won and back in
T's arms, back in my daughter'sand parents' lives and this
(31:11):
nightmare, this life bomb, willbe behind us.
I started the day on porridgeand I'm ending it with two
bowls, mixed with raisins,sultanas and a banana.
Christmas is done for 2016.
It's close my eyes time, wishingT was in my arms, and we were
(31:35):
listening to George Michael withonly the light of a candle.
Popular Podcasts
My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark
My Favorite Murder is a true crime comedy podcast hosted by Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark. Each week, Karen and Georgia share compelling true crimes and hometown stories from friends and listeners. Since MFM launched in January of 2016, Karen and Georgia have shared their lifelong interest in true crime and have covered stories of infamous serial killers like the Night Stalker, mysterious cold cases, captivating cults, incredible survivor stories and important events from history like the Tulsa race massacre of 1921. My Favorite Murder is part of the Exactly Right podcast network that provides a platform for bold, creative voices to bring to life provocative, entertaining and relatable stories for audiences everywhere. The Exactly Right roster of podcasts covers a variety of topics including historic true crime, comedic interviews and news, science, pop culture and more. Podcasts on the network include Buried Bones with Kate Winkler Dawson and Paul Holes, That's Messed Up: An SVU Podcast, This Podcast Will Kill You, Bananas and more.
24/7 News: The Latest
The latest news in 4 minutes updated every hour, every day.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com