Episode 46 - The End Of The Worst Of Times

Breaking news. It's just been unofficially confirmed. Toenails departs in two days. Cat D. He's hanging on in reception by his grubby fingernails and his days are numbered. And if he's caught doing anything untoward his Cat D is over and he'll be shipped out of here.

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

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 46 The End Of The Worst Of Times Ridiculous as it sounds but the John Lewis ad for Christmas, the song, One Day I'll Fly Away, seems more than a little poignant, the words that is. I live life from dream to dream and leave all this to yesterday. I hold onto that thought like a growing mantra. Sadly, Christmas this year will be cell 3-17, separated from my loved ones, and the idea of yesterday still being behind me is still a long way off. I made a comment last week to the lads during lunch. Why would you want to be outside wasting your life away? They found it hilarious. I think the deadpan delivery helped. We were stood facing the sun, front of a clear blue sky, although the ground was still frosty. We were waiting for the gym to empty. D and F wings were finishing their once a week opportunity. I remember thinking we're like reptiles, trying to warm our blood. In our case, a rare chance of grabbing some vitamin D. Later, back in the bedding stores listening to funeral FM and unpacking boxes of orange blankets, one cannot avoid there is a Christmas spirit pushed on us via the marketing people in the commercial world, but the reality is, people are panicking about how they're going to pay for it. For most people out in the real world, the cost of living crisis has never left. People generally are either working to pay the bills or working to survive. The pressures and responsibilities are relentless, having to make decisions by the minute and be somewhere doing something. Here, it's different, extreme, but in the opposite direction. The only decision most inmates have to make in here is what they want for lunch and tea. Ours is a head fuck of a different kind. We all miss our freedom and liberty, but make no mistake, the outside world is tough. I've watched hundreds of lads be released from here with nowhere to go. No family ties and only£46 discharge grant, still paid in cash if necessary. Imagine leaving prison without somewhere to live, without family ties or loved ones to help. Is it any surprise either lads reoffend, to make some money, to find somewhere to live, that without decent education, no form of training or skills, and they're branded. It's hard to make your CV look inviting, let's be honest. Or they're returning to prison willingly just to have a bed and be fed regardless of how bad it is here. Imagine then when prison is a step up from the alternative in the real world. It's the 7th of December, 2016. I received a letter from one of the lads who used to work for us. Kris, he was one of the production team on Inexcess television. It's handwritten. He said he hadn't written with a pen and paper since back at school. He was reflective and full of fab memories. Plenty of my old sayings in quotes serving him well nowadays he said. He has his own thriving business now, and I'm really proud what he and many of the others have achieved since cutting their teeth in the old Inexcess days. Magical memories. I spoke to Geoff too on the phone. He's another who has loads of talent and used to work for us. He'll be a filmmaker one day. He's super talented. He and Kris have both remained in my corner and it's meant a lot, especially when one's name has been trashed. Inexcess was the best of me and the best years of my life, and they and many others shared in the making of it. It's ironic, as much as surreal, looking back to the Inexcess period. Six weeks before coming through the doors, we delivered a conference called The Road to Recovery. We flew Byron Katie over from California as the key speaker and guest. She was the real deal. It would be unfair to call her a Californian guru. She was incredible, inspiring and class. She'd written books, done conferences, and was a regular guest on Oprah. She was a big fan of hers. Katie was spell binding when up on her feet and engaging with the audience or on a one-to-one. I still remember her mantra. Is it true? Is it absolutely true? She's published many bestselling books around self-help and love. She breaks it down into four simple questions. One, is it true? Two, is it absolutely true? Three...this is where she turns it around and asks, who are you without that thought? And finally, and who are you with that thought? Up until I descended the stairs the footage of the day, especially Katie, still looked and sounded great. It's aging well. Six weeks after one of the proudest days of my life, they came through the doors like SWAT. I've been thinking about the M lads, one in particular. He's been found guilty a few days back, and he's been sat in with JC. He wants to end it all. The only people in his life are his elderly parents, and his father is currently in intensive care. He told Jay that his parents will not be alive when he's finally released, and so there is nothing to live for. By all accounts, it's another 20 minutes of madness that ended up in tragedy, although a 90-year-old man is dead. Murdered. I'm always reminded, or think of the families and loved ones, the victims, of course. And then the parents or partner or children of the one found guilty. It's a mess. Sadly, it's those outside who love us that are suffering the most, and the victim's families suffer a much greater loss whilst guilty ones suffer a tsunami of shame and stigma. It's surreal. He's 32, facing a very heavy sentence, and some people love him whilst others hate him. Night after night, he's been returning from trial and straight into the VP holding room. It's often closely guarded what these lads are on trial for. And because we don't communicate with them directly, we only have a whiff of what's going on. It was only a couple of nights ago I realized who he was. He's been returning with a couple of Pakistani or Sri Lankan looking brothers who were on trial, again in the VP room, but we have no idea what for. The only communication I have is handing over the breakfast and brew packs and milk. I never offer them Coco Pops if they're in the VP room. It's ridiculous, I know. Today's Wednesday and it's a big bad day for 27 lads. The epic trial is over and sentencing begins today. They'll all have had sleepless nights, head fucks, and any sleep probably with sweats and nightmares. You hear the keys unlocking them at about 6.40. Some lads are up and shouting, good luck ar kid. Go on fella! Imagine what it must be like to be on remand for up to two years, especially if you're innocent. However, for this crowd, they were in court yesterday and the judge indicated he's going to be tough. Apparently some lads who were expecting to be sentenced for a kilogram of class A drugs, well, it shifted to five kilograms. And one as a five kilo drugs trial turned into a 60 because of being found guilty in the conspiracy on a higher level. Imagine the tension, the anxiety, and you're completely powerless to do or say anything about it. If they were awake through the night, then they probably heard the drone at 2.32. Another successful drop off. This morning started with laughs more than anything. Rambo did an impersonation of the murderous Christie. Rillington Place was on TV last night and it's now customary for him the following morning to begin with, how about a nice cup of tea, Ethel? A reference to the chilling phrase Christie used most often. Rambo sounds exactly like him and we laugh all morning while on our cleaning duties and preparing for the day ahead for the new arrivals and returnees. Breaking news. It's just been unofficially confirmed. Toenails departs in two days. Cat D. He's hanging on in reception by his grubby fingernails and his days are numbered. And if he's caught doing anything untoward his Cat D is over and he'll be shipped out of here. I can hear Jayne's words ringing in my ears. Shake his hand. He's your finest teacher, babe. He's given you the opportunity to shine in your own unique way, babe. The other ear worm that went down ill-timed with me was, it's preparing you for something greater, babe. I remember saying to her before dread day, really? No sooner had I begun savouring the exit news of Toenails when the lads started to return from court. For some, it is gut wrenching, years longer than they originally expected. I feel sorry for Taxi John. He was expecting to be going home in months and now he's still got three to four years to do, and that's after the half sentence allowance. Steve-O, he's done all right and hopes he will be leaving for Cat D with Macca in six months. Blobby hasn't done well. He's also been getting terrorized for weeks. More karma, reap what you sow springs to mind when it comes to Blobby and The Despicables. Days like today carry an eerie feeling, the calm before the storm. Camaraderie to begin with, then to anxiety and anger taking over as the day progresses. I've walked these steps and I've felt the emotions that fester in the pit of your stomach. The stress on their bodies alone is enough to floor a person. But eventually, at some point, soon an overwhelming sense of doom begins to engulf you. Then it's a head fuck. What hope is there for any of us to make a better life after being subject to such abuse and trauma? Prison does not equal rehabilitation. No. Of course, tonight and for many moons, lads will be filled with regrets, and prison is a toxic annihilator of men whether good or not. There is laughter in the holding room, but I sense that it is only masking the pain, fear, and anxiety. It's the eyes that are the giveaway, not the laughs. Men looking broken, beaten, afraid, and lost. I understand the public will have little sympathy, but maybe if they saw how bad it is here, how the process, the system, is badly broken and that those who may wish to rehabilitate whilst in prison have no opportunities, encouragement, or support. How does the justice system and the public expect to churn out reformed characters willing to make a positive contribution to society when they're treated as badly and as poorly as abused animals? If it isn't the physical, violent threat then it's certainly the psychological effect men endure in these places. Prison releases men and women suffering with trauma and PTSD. Some of the lads have told me they're scared of the papers tomorrow. Especially for their families and loved ones, the guilt and shame and stigma that is born out of these situations. The Liverpool Echo, for instance, is the Facebook of crime and it tears innocent families apart. Of course, I can hear the shouts of, they should have known better, and often that is true, but families and loved ones are innocent victims unnecessarily caught up in the fallout. Steve-O's last words on the way back to the wing were, I'm shattered. I respected his honesty. He was glad to get out of the holding room and away from the fools laughing. Blobby was somehow proud he had been labelled as a prolific courier. I thought prolific fool was more appropriate. There are other Welsh lads caught up in this too. They haven't returned yet. Everyone expects them to be slammed hard. By the time we finished tonight most of the lads have been sentenced. I managed to get a call to T before we left work. I told her Toenails is going. Interestingly, he was quiet when we did the walk back to our cells. Usually when a lad receives the news, they can't keep quiet about it. He knows the next 48 hours are crucial. Absolutely anything can happen and anyone can throw you under the bus to derail your exit. I can be certain of this. No matter how noisy it is tonight, I'll sleep better than him. He isn't popular and he's worried, but for me, it's the beginning of the end of the worst of times.