Episode 32 - Swimming With The Sharks

What was it like being GW? It was all crazy as fuck. I used to drink a lot, champagne back in those days. Vodka too...

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

Transcript

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Episode 32 Swimming With The Sharks I'm on top bunk, decompressing, drifting, and wondering. Freddy and JB have been in to visit me. My daughter has graduated, and my best man's speech for Kinder was received very well. His pal, the groom, was thrilled and now Kinder and I are blood brothers for life. The lads ask me a lot of questions about the old days. It's becoming a regular thing. The office came up today. Where was it? What was it like? What did we do? And did I really wear the white linen suit for real, not just a bet. Toenails obsesses about it, a s much as he's obsessed with me. I always tag the white suit with, it takes a lot of confidence to wear a suit like that, and for as stylish and ahead of its time as it was, especially in Liverpool, I do accept for as cool as I thought it looked, sadly, the man from Del Monte was the label that stuck. Toenails made the mistake of trying to embarrass me with what I wore. I said in front of the lads, have you been stalking me for years? You're infatuated with me. He mentioned the snake skin boots too, which is true. I did own them and wear them regularly. In fact, I had quite a selection of boots, from what I thought were cool to super cool. The snakies, they were my favourites. Once again, I said it takes a lot of confidence to pull them off. Neil, when I was cutting his hair, a number two at the back and sides and a five on top, pulled me. Did you really have snakeskin boots G? I told him of course I did. I used to wear them all the time. I remember bouncing through the airport on my way to the boat. Neil thought at first I was catching a ferry, not the boat on the Med was ours. He loved that. In fact, he pulled Toenails at the table when we were eating and said outright, you never told us G had a boat on the Med. Toenail's silence was deafening, and it hurt. Him, not me. Neil asked me, what was it like? I paused. I mean, what the boat? No, he said, being GW. I've got to be honest, I wasn't expecting that, but I flowed as the clippers cut. It was all crazy as fuck. I used to drink a lot, champagne back in those days. Vodka too. The last time I picked up a drink, I never put it down for five years. I told him, at 19 I had my first business, my first Jag and my first AA meeting. No way! That's what he said. He spun around in the chair, I nearly cut a number two lane across the top. Yeah, plenty of talent, bursting with potential, very entrepreneurial, but we also love the bright lights, partying and drinking. From five years of age. I had one goal in life, to be rich and successful. He loved that and said, it sounds like a great plan. And then, he asked me what was probably the obvious question, although I wasn't expecting it. How did you end up in Walton, G? Hmm. That's complicated. I swam with the sharks for too many years, especially the drinking years. When I wasn't drinking, life got lift off, unlimited and amazing. When I picked the drink back up, usually I lost my way, and let myself down. It was very much rock and roll until 40, no off switch. That's when I decided either to die or change. At 40, I had everything a person could wish for the business, a beautiful partner and a child, a house with a swimming pool, a boat on the Med, and a fleet of cars, which included the Bentley. I had what appeared to be the perfect life, however, inside I felt empty. The highs and lows to reach this point and here I was back at the beginning, drinking again, and unable to stop. Since my teenage years until this point, almost 25 years on, I'd had a turbulent relationship with the bottle. There were years at a time I didn't drink, but once I did, picked it up at first, even after five years... well, I was back at the beginning and the wheels always came off. Neil was silent, listening but shocked. You really thought about ending it all G? Yeah. Many times, I said, but this was the strongest feeling. I wasn't afraid of dying, even though I had so much to live for. Anyway, e verything had to change, otherwise I couldn't go on. Why would I want to? No matter how much success or money and seemingly the perfect life, inside something was missing and the drink was no longer my closest friend who used to fill that empty space. No, it was my foe, and D ementor. Everything had to change, and the process of change began. Whatever I did from this moment, I just wanted to be the best I could be, at anything and everything. A life plan that ironically brought me to this point. I told him, at 40, I started all over again. Rebuilding me, no shortcuts. I wanted to create and build something amazing, more amazing than before. Business was always my rehab, and I committed 100%. New me, new plans, and producing and delivering the best. The bar was high and every time we reached it, we raised it higher. I invested heavily in all aspects of the business, and if we committed to doing something, we saw it through to the end. However, for all my endeavours, the authorities persisted. I was the best version of me that I'd ever been, but somehow they didn't see that. They were causing me, and the business, grief for a handful of years. We had them in the offices several times, and we always passed with flying colours, but no matter how good we became, it was irrelevant. I had a target on my back. They were never leaving me alone, merely disrupting me while they built a case against me. Can you believe they launched a whole new department, Scam Busters, off the back of coming through our doors? It was never heard of afterwards as they lurched from one crisis to another when having to defend themselves from my civil action against them. There's loads I could say and write, but it becomes a beast of bigger stories and greater dramas, and the haircut had reached as good as it was going to get. An artist needs to know when to put the brush down. Neil was thrilled with the cut, but he didn't want to leave on cliff hangers. Love the cut G-Dubz,but what happened next? I passed out laughing as I brushed him down, cleaned the clippers and brushed up his hair. I ended up finishing what I never intended to start. I told him the best of me produced and delivered the best product in the marketplace, and the worst of me fell out with a lot of people in the process. Just as we were on the eve of liftoff, things happening fast and going in the right direction, plans to move to California... Well, they burst through my office doors and derailed everything. I look back now and think, wow, not many people get moments in their life like that. Everything changed. All of our lives changed. Innocent people caught up in the fallout. It was horrendous. We challenged it legally, a multimillion pound claim against the loss of the business and subsequently everything else. My version of events is straightforward. I was expecting as much as 10 million pounds in compensation, instead I received seven years. Neil summed it up perfectly. Just think G, there'd be no salon and I'd be fucked for my visit tomorrow. I told him his missus will be waiting for him faithfully if he keeps rocking up on visits looking like Brad Pitt. He loved that. In HMP, moods change as quickly as the weather. One minute there's some sunshine and a minute later it's storms. Honestly, the lads can be laughing around the table, playing cards, cracking jokes and gags like Peter Kay, and then from nowhere it's fireworks and hurricanes with lads arguing and fighting. I was awake early this morning. 5:00 AM is becoming a regular thing. The night officer had flashed his torch through the slit an hour earlier, just to check we hadn't escaped or hung ourselves. I smile as I write, because it's only a few nights ago, we had to press the buzzer to let the officer know he hadn't locked our door. Big Reeve and I agreed not to tell the lads or mention it to another officer. We didn't know how it would go down amongst the other lads and other officers, and at the least the officer will be reprimanded if he's outed. Can you imagine two inmates not being locked up? The potential problems and repercussions? We couldn't have necessarily escaped, but think for a moment about the potential for what could have happened. It was awkward, but it had to be done. For ours and the officer's sake, we discreetly made him aware of the mishap. My six week old mattress is now a concrete slab with a dent in the middle. My back is twisted, and now I have a frozen shoulder too, from sleeping on one side. I'm facing the wall. I'd rather face the wall than the toilet. I feel as though I'm in some form of psychological experiment, deprived of sleep in an attempt to break my spirits. It's not unusual to spend hours lying awake on one's bunk and pondering one's life and predicament. I think about who, the other men who will have occupied this cell over the years, thinking the same, what the fuck, thoughts. Most days it's carpe diem for me. The morning love call sets me up for the day, but not today. It's Friday and T's in work before we are unlocked. Big Reeve tends to be a grinch of a morning and I can sense he's losing patience with my positive spirits. I've written many times, guys want you to suffer when they suffer, and happiness can be annoying. Work is a double-edged sword. We're off the wings. A few perks and regular gym, but it can also be a hornets' nest. Today was a perfect example. Buffer Gate. The Glumster, whose verbal contribution to most things is, I'm not happy, was deeply unhappy this morning. Another case of it sound ridiculous but true. The Glumster nominated himself to buff the reception floors. Somewhere in a previous life he must have buffed away. Now my instinct screamed, crack on and leave him to it. And to be honest, it's the happiest we've seen him. But as with many events in here, happiness creates friction. This morning, a couple of the lads not only jumped on the buffer before the Glumster, but also, we thought it was about time someone else had a go. Well, I've highlighted along the way, if you are winning some favour or approval, especially from officers, well, guys swarm like flies around a cow pat. Glumster loves to complain. One of his gripes is there is never enough to do down in the workplace, and he loves to volunteer himself for most tasks. Ironically, then he moans the rest of us are lazy. Depending on which day it is, which moments and which people, it can be entertaining or gnawing. Anyway, he threw a strop, cursed the lads for playing with his buffer and sunk a packet of custard creams quicker than he could drink a cup of tea. The biscuits were pure comfort food, and 10 minutes later, he asked me would help him with his homework. Honestly, it's surreal. The other lads were miffed with him, although not saying it to his face. Their argument was, why should he get all the credit, because they're cleaning toilets and showers while he is acting like teacher's pet. I challenged the kid and said, are you really going to say that to him? We all knew it was a no. Glumster is a giant of a man, hands the size of coal shovels and strong. He could squeeze the air out of a man twice his size without trying. He's a cross between a gentle giant and a depressed psycho and he's super OCD. Today Big Reeve was on trolley duty to the kitchen, and Mr. H laughed in my direction and asked me did a fancy a trip? It was a beautiful evening for life behind the high walls and barbed wire. It's about a hundred meters from the card table to the kitchen, albeit there are about three steel gates and doors to pass through. Reeve had been moody all day. Time in here is getting to him and the separation from his partner and the kids, well, it's starting to show. I'm conscious that on days like today, keep apart. We're padded up together, we work together, and basically we spend too much time together. I'd only decided to walk over as a break from the oppressiveness indoors, and Reeve had as the day progressed seemingly levelled his moodiness. He seemed laid back during the cards. However, for as much as I like the big guy, he has a track record for flareups. It began over milk. He took offence from nowhere and then suddenly became rude to me then aggressive. Thankfully, we were a little later than usual and the kitchens were quieter, but still enough lads around to capture the escalation. Mr. H had to step in between us. I had not provoked him in any way, but I was also not prepared to be abused verbally or physically. Mr. H asked me to go outside. At first, I thought, what the fuck? But Big Reeve is like a pressure cooker lately and on occasions an unpleasantness has crept in albeit, not usually in my direction. I suppose my real shock wasn't squaring up to him. No, it was the venom he projected towards me. One of the lads shouted over, aren't you two padded up together? Wish I was on B Wing tonight. I must admit it was on my mind. Lads, pad mates falling out, can have serious consequences and when it goes off behind the door, it does not end until someone goes silent. Just as I was wondering, will we be separated from this point on, new pad mates sort of thing, Reeve appeared with Mr. H. I opened my arms and wrapped one around him and made light of the situation. Too much testosterone. Mr. H asked us both together, is everything cool? Well, we both nodded like naughty school boys. Within the space of 10 minutes, we'd gone from laughing at the card table to a major flare up to, let's eat and put it behind us. I'm lucky I can put things behind me quickly. I don't fester or bear grudges. I chose not to say anything when we returned, although it was only a matter of time before it was raging through the prison like a bush fire. Once again, I was at the centre of it. Just when a late night would've come in handy, we were treated to an early one. Mr. H was the first to out the incident and Toenails headed straight to Reeve. He was hoping it was going to go off the moment we were locked up and behind the door. Obviously Big Reeve in everybody else's eyes was odds on to fill me in. By the time we reached the wing, it was clear the entertainment had already begun. One of the lads who was in the jester stripes, basically an outfit worn by lads who have tried to escape or are suspected of plotting to escape. It was young David, a Scouser. He was in for multiple armed robberies, and we'd heard earlier in the day that somebody was on the nets, but we didn't expect he would still be there when we got back. I interpreted it as a cross between a protest, a cry for help and attention. Apparently he bounced onto the nets when he was let out from the cell for lunch. Mr. H's final words as he closed our cell door was, don't become the entertainment for the wing tonight lads. Both Reeve and I in harmony, replied with, yeah, we're cool. It is a serious thing. There are incidents when one pad mate is murdered, smothered his pad mate through the night, usually over something silly. At 8:00 PM David progressed from lively to playing up for the crowd, and not for the first time today the wing took off. Shouts through the doors varied between supporters, go on our kid... to, dickhead! I was more concerned about the state of his mental and emotional health. The asylum zoo gained liftoff with talk of the nationals coming in. Apparently they have to wire up, zip wires or something, mountaineering equipment. Anyway, usually once they've grabbed you, it's down to the Block and a proper hiding. My concern is, David is a type 1 diabetic. Reeve said he's due for sentencing next week and expects to receive 18 to 20 years. The zoo outside was goading him and he was bouncing around on the nets like he was an Olympian on acid. Smurf made me laugh. Calling through the pipes from next door. Evening G-Dubz, are you still alive? Before spending the next 30 minutes pouring his heart out about how down he is. I was conscious Reeve didn't have the patience for this, but what could I do? As Reeve pointed out, Smurf bounces around all day and then pours his heart out to me through the pipes at night. However, tonight he was more entertaining. Apparently, when he did the nets, there were 10 of them, boozed up and on the gear. He said it was like a trampoline session for 14 hours in front of the nationals. Even we found that funny. Thankfully at just gone nine, David came off the nets willingly just as the nationals turned up and he saw the writing on the wall. Without any hassle, he was escorted the Block to the roar and approval from the lads. To me, it was clear he's got issues and being slammed next week with a life-changing sentence has tipped him over the edge. I don't think he's 30 years of age. The next 20 years of his life will be split, half in prison and the other half on licence with heavy MAPPA conditions. He'll be my age before he comes out of the tailspin, and that's if he's lucky. The beginning of his sentence and nightmare is starting in the Block. I forgot to say, Paul pulled me earlier. Dan had told him that Reeve had mentioned the confrontation. By all accounts, Reeve genuinely regretted acting out of order, which I do appreciate, but what made me laugh was that he was quick to inform Dan that he was taken completely by surprise, apparently, how I'd responded in such a feisty way. Even Paul thought that I hadn't done myself any harm. Reeve told Dan that I was a dark horse. Apparently he said I'd changed from Mr. Writer to Mr. Fighter, and everyone saw it, although nobody expected it. 24 hours in HMP.