Episode 36 - Ship Outs + Slashings

Any one of us can be attacked or caught up in a violent episode, and potentially or probably be knifed, slashed, coshed, swilled, strangled or battered brutally and viciously. Who do you become as a result of any of this, when on the receiving end and scarred for life?

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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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, but the events have not. Episode 36 Ship Outs Slashings A large part of today has been dedicated to reading and writing and working on both LPs as in Love and Life Plans. In Wayne Dyer's book it says, loving, harmonious thoughts produce love and harmony to give away, regardless of what is coming at you. How could one disagree? Born again Sheila used to say, just open your heart and let it in, and, you only get what you can handle, which presently feels like an irony. We all have go-to lines or sayings or phrases, to help articulate and describe things. We lean on them for all sorts of reasons. Maybe to affirm something, maybe to explain something, maybe to inspire or remind us of hope. We all regurgitate cliches, metaphors and sound bites. They say something, sometimes large, sometimes small, but they help us visualize or explain, and carry us across the wide and varied spectrum of emotions. I often say, for instance, about remaining true to myself if I'm going to make it through to the other side, not angry, bitter, or resentful, and in love, and with purpose and meaning as a result of this life-changing event. Hopefully for all the good, bad, and ugly, this somehow makes sense years down the line and this whole torrid episode in our lives, whether I win the appeal or not, somehow I've put it to good use. I'm all in on love. I don't have to broadcast it. I don't have to sell it, bang on about it. I don't even have to go to church, no. But if I'm very different to the rest of the lads, then a big part of it is my acceptance and relationship with love. Without T, my daughter, my parents, and the extended friends and family, love may feel different. But I'm spoiled with it and I'm comfortable showing it without being a prize prick. I watch, observe, experience, feel how the force and weight bears down on a person while stress and anxiety, whoever you may be, courses through one's veins more than any blood. A place and environment such as this can devour or at least take advantage of what they perceive to be weakness, whether it's cruel entertainment or direct bullying and intimidation. In here they will strip you of everything and leave you trembling whilst they're gloating, like laughing hyenas. I write regularly that I'm here to thrive rather than merely survive. Even I'm noticing the sayings now. There are moments when survival is the only option, fight or flight, our basic human instinct when threatened. I try to strike a balance between always being true to myself whilst being aware of the ever present dangers and threats that circle constantly like birds of prey, waiting for the prey to appear. For instance, Toenails and his cronies. If they were a band, they'd be called the Mood Hoovers. They are pure jail. Horrible. Each beaten with the ugly stick at birth and ugly inside too. That's their worst feature. Every day, at every or any opportunity I'm the centre of their attention and obsession. In here, any hint of fear stimulates the evil ones. In here we're all living in a pressure cooker. Waiting for it to explode at any time. Egos, dramas, fears, resentments, and reputations collide under pressure constantly. How would you navigate this knowing you're only ever a moment away from something dramatic happening? I've chosen or adopted the path of keep the peace, be friendly as often as possible, and try to remain neutral. What's laughable, I suppose, is that for almost nine months I've tried to blend in, certainly not tried to stand out, but it appears I've hopelessly failed as I'm forever in the spotlight or caught in its over spill. I try not to have opinions, but I fail with my look of disapproval or my silence on the topic. I must confess, this is like a tango on razor blades, barefooted. Being a good person, regardless of the situation, is difficult. I can at times feel profoundly challenged. Fighting should be the last resort, and really only if I'm under attack. Any one of us can be attacked or caught up in a violent episode, and potentially or probably be knifed, slashed, coshed, swilled, strangled or battered brutally and viciously. Who do you become as a result of any of this, when on the receiving end and scarred for life? Love plays a significant part for sure, but so does having a sense of humour. That diffuses tense moments better than anything. It is the 24th of September, 2016. In the last few days, there have been record numbers of ship outs, all escorted in cuffs, and an attempt at zero tolerance of the, nah, I'm not going. Lads, inmates, especially the hardened scallies, have been resisting being shipped out to the point they're laughing and gloating about it. Now they're screaming like they're victims as they're dragged out with force if necessary. But once you're in the meat wagon, you're gone. Yesterday I watched a young lad be taken to hospital to be stitched up. Another savage attack across the cheek with a homemade blade. The razor blade is embedded in an old toothbrush. The lads melt the plastic brush head with a lighter, resourceful, but gruesome. The kid will be scarred for life. Then today, another kid, who was rumoured to be John Venables. What a load of nonsense, as if? He was in reception and it was not Venables, no. It was a lad who, if anything, had learning difficulties. Most certainly not violent or a scally. He was attacked in his pad less than an hour after being down here eating chocolate like a kid on Christmas morning, right outside the bedding stores. I thought as I watched earlier, he looks like the type of kid who's waiting for his mother to come and pick him up, not the type who should be in prison, vulnerable and a prime target for bullying or abuse. Also, yesterday a young lad was jumped first thing after being unlocked. Another vicious attack. Today, the lads who did it walk around joking as if nothing happened. What's going on? Why does no one care? Why are we being left to police our own wings? It's lawless. No police, no investigation or inquiry, nothing. Toenails has stepped the hate GW campaign up a level. I sense the backlash has begun. Of late I've clearly had the upper hand, and by that I mean I've managed to deflect his caustic assaults by outsmarting him during intense moments. The lads say it's been the most amusing part, watching how I navigate the treachery. J was complimentary. Dan said It was my sense of humour, it derails Toenails every time. However, what has evolved is that Toenails is now as good as bullying Flemmo, aka Mr. Blobby. It happened with the K kid months back. Don't get me wrong, Flemmo could choose to go about things differently, and he's wandered in a few times, let his guard down and opened up to me. But he's desperate for approval and desperate to win favour from Toenails by trying bad gags in my direction. He knows that having a go at me, undermining or discrediting me, wins approval from Toenails. He knows it pleases him. J said, Toenails has obviously lost the battle of wits and strength, but my instincts tell me this is why there is a new offensive against me. All the trouble over the past few weeks, the ship outs and the tensions with officers, well, it put everybody on eggshells. It was enough, however, to keep Toenails and the posse quiet. For over eight months relentlessly, I've had to rise above it as he and the posse try to break me. Ironically, the lads comment more and more about my method of survival compared to others who are trying too hard to be tough and revealing themselves as duplicitous and not trustworthy. Today during lunch, which for all of us was a bap,a bowl of soup, a banana and a Penguin biscuit, honestly, a child in preschool would have a bigger and better lunch. We sit around a table like it's a school canteen or a factory. There's always banter. Usually Toenails and the posse hijack any fun and focus everything in my direction. They'd been prodding all morning, and by the time I sat down, they were laughing at me and about me. I calmly intervened. I've noticed you laugh at each other's numpty comments and bad gags. Do you rehearse it, because it's not natural, is it? You know, like an amateur dramatics rehearsal? It's got to stop. You're embarrassing yourselves. Come on, we're supposed to be prisoners. You laugh at his dickhead comments, then you laugh at his, right on cue. I've told you lads, referring to the rest of the reception lads around the table, amateurs, they're rehearsing in the pad every night. You think you're funny, don't yah, was about as far as he got. I couldn't help myself. At least when the lads laugh at my stuff, it's for real. Not like, when I say this, Flemmo, you laugh. Yeah, boss. I laugh. I've noticed, but you haven't. You are ruining everyone's mealtime when you do this. You're going to have to think of something better than all this disruption. No one likes Toenails. He's pure jail, acts tough, pretends he's connected, but really he's trying to be a somebody inside here, whilst out there, he's a nobody. Or as P puts it, a Joey. 99% of people in here cause me no grief. But the 1%, they are relentless. When new faces arrive to work here, they're on them from the get go. Trying to turn them against me, certainly trying to undermine me. It's a strange feeling, constantly having to be in the same space with someone who clearly hates me. It can be unnerving because it's so intense. I've learned it's not the case of why me, but why not me?