When I was remanded in the early eighties there was neither methadone nor sympathy for addicts on arrival. If you asked for anything, you were instead removed to a 'strip cell' until you felt better. If you'd the sense to shut up, the prison in those days reserved a couple of cells into which arriving alcoholics and addicts were placed to suffer their withdrawals with minimum disturbance to the rest of the prison population. So it was that, in company with a scrawny old jakey who came in on the same wagon, I was led to a ground floor cell and locked in.
"Oh, not this c***!" exclaimed my companion in dismay when he recognised the cell's other resident. " Like I don't have enough problems." I followed his gaze to where a man mountain from County Mayo lay on the single bunk and opened one eye to study his new flatmates. " You're back soon, " he consoled his fellow jakey, " Gimme your tobacco now, I'm all out."
" Haven't got any, " said the little fella, slipping his tin with trembling fingers under his pillow. The gorilla from Mayo - he really was walking proof of Darwinism, I've never seen anyone with more simian features before or since - pushed out one huge hand, smashed his head into the cell wall and removed the tobacco. " Don't be giving me any more of your shite. Who's he? " He turned his surly gaze onto me. " Drink, is it?"
" Drugs. " I said and, in an attempt at pacification, mumbled something about how, were he on the out, he'd be off to the pub at this time.
" Don't be giving yer bollocks about pubs, yer gobshoite. " he roared. " Oi'm a park bench man. " He looked at me again and what passed for a smile crossed his scarred and battered countenance. " Y're a noice looking young fella, Will yer be giving us a striptease later? "
" Get to fuck, " I snarled as menacingly as I could manage. The little alkie vomited into his bucket and rescued me from further conversation. So, the scrawny jakey and I passed a wretched and sleepless night as we wrestled with our respective withdrawals on the upper and lower bunks while the gorilla beat his meat and groaned or slept and snored loudly. At 5a.m, the little fella complained about the foxes and weasels coming in through the bars and at 6am lost control of his bowels. I lay there in silence, breathed through my mouth and thought about Dante until the morning relief unlocked the cell and led the trembling alcoholic, by now in full delerium tremens, away to the hospital. Only then did the Mayoman wake.
" Smells of shoite in here. Thank fuck that c***'s gone. Kept me up all the night, he did. Fancy a game of cards? Y'know how to play snap? Don't worry if you don't, I'll learn you the rules."
So we played snap - he cheated - until he decided it was time for his morning snooze. His hands went beneath the blankets and he began to groan again. I waited till he stopped groaning and started snoring and decided to go on exercise in the hope it'd take the edge off my withdrawals. An acquaintance in reception had provided me with a brand new pair of prison shoes but, when I looked under my bunk, an old and scuffed pair of the same size were there instead. " It must've been that little bastard, " said the man mountain when I complained, " You forget about them and think about giving me a wank when you come back. " He rolled over and went back to his snoring.
I'm not a violent soul but this was too much. I found my shoes under his bed, switched them back and waited until I heard the landing screw begin the unlock process for slop out. Just before the door opened, I clouted the Mayoman on his nose with his own shoe and what was left of my strength, grabbed my bucket and quickly slipped out onto the landing. He bellowed like a wounded animal and came charging after me. But half a dozen curious screws and a line of cons with their pos stopped him in his tracks. Hee, hee, I thought, at least till the screw told me exercise was cancelled because of the rain and moved to return me to the cell. " You're not putting me back in there with that fuck! " I almost cried. " Just till lunchtime, " promised the screw, who knew the Mayoman of old. " We'll move you, then. If you're still alive. "
For forty minutes, I stood in the corner of that stinking cell, holding a prison chair before me like a Christian facing off a lion, while this lesser specimen of humanity sat on his bed snorting and telling me what he was going to do when he got his hands on me, until a laughing screw, who'd been watching the entertainment through the judas hole all along, bored of the joke and moved me to the sanctuary of a single cell. Funnily enough, whenever I encountered the Mayoman on the landing or in the washroom, he scowled but shied away from me, which illustrates all bullies are cowards at heart. In time, my withdrawals passed and I even had a few laughs during my time at Her Majesty's but I've never forgotten that hell of an introduction to the prison system.
while where at it a think women can suss out these cunts weakness and fully take advantage of it,and watch their faces go all colours of the rainbow.
.
