I have to admit, I’m a fan of a shenanigan – a lover of mischief and just a general pisstaker. When I had the opportunity to mess with Kangas I wasn’t going to let it pass me by. For those of you new to the blog a Kanga as in kangaroo is rhyming slang for a screw or prison officer.
When I was in open conditions I was working full time in the community. I left the prison at 6:30am, cycled 10 miles to work for a 12 hour shift then cycled 10 miles back to prison before my curfew at 9:30pm – 6 days a week. And my job? Well I had accumulated around £20,000 in student loans to become a highly qualified personal trainer. I managed to secure a position in a gym as a PT.
Then responsibility found me again, damned that relentless wanker! I was promoted to club manager. Now that messed with people’s heads on camp – staff and prisoners alike. I had frequent checks in the community, plain clothes Kangas checking that I was where I was meant to be – and they’d marvel as I toured them round the gym (I actually signed one of them as a member!).
But I digress. Kind of. Part of my job was to sell memberships and the first time that a Kanga came for a tour I was in my element.
“Do you do discounts for civil servants?” He asked.
“Where do you work?” said I.
Hushed, conspiratorial – “I’m a prison officer.”
Nudge, nudge. Nose tap. Wink wink did I! “I’m sure we can look after you.”
“So what’s it like in there?” – sure butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth – I was a picture of wide eyed innocent curiosity.
Now here’s where it gets interesting. I’ve heard everything from “They’re all rat bastards – we should just lock the doors and let them kill each other” to “It’s frightening really the fine line that could see anybody make a tragic mistake and end up inside.” Those divergent views are evident in the demeanour of Kangas on the landings.
But I of course keep playing…
“So do they wear orange boiler suits or costumes with arrows.“
“What, they trade their medication – and even their food for drugs?”
“They stash things in their bottom’s?”
I was like Ali G asking crap! But the best part was the sign up – we had to take a photo for their profile on the computer to police who was coming in to the gym – you just can’t trust Kangas! That’s the part that never got old – I’d pick up the tablet and ask them to smile, then slide my face around the side and say “Must be weird somebody taking your mugshot for a change!” Sure the smiles I captured were delicious! Little did they know that the guy behind the camera was a lifer. My staff would all laugh uproariously – they never tired of it (or they were so scared of me that they laughed anyway).
Now I did check with the prison about the ethics here. There was a distinction drawn – if I was to be offering paid PT to prison staff, I should inform them I was in open prison so they could report it to their safeguards. Instead I did free coaching for Kangas – they needed it, lazy sods most of them!
