I’m reflecting on a conversation I had in Walton or HMP Liverpool more than a decade ago. I fair put the shits up a Kanga (Kanga-roo = Screw) and I can still see his face to this day.
I was about a year into prison. I had been sentenced and was getting about doing the time. I volunteered for every role there was, anything to keep busy. I was a Listener, Shelter Rep, Diversity Rep, Substance Recovery Mentor, Peer Mentor and wing rep at the prisoner council. I had T-shirts for every role. I was moved to the Induction wing to help support new arrivals. In the spirit of Shawshank I managed to procure a desk, drawers, chairs and pigeon holes for the myriad applications that we prisoners had to navigate to get anything done.
This model was adopted by management who loved showing off the PID or Prisoners Information Desk to visitors and dignitaries – when the rest of the prison was locked up, the Moose and my pal Vinny would be sat at the desk as the positive face of prison (if only they knew!). We met then Minister for prisons Jeremy Wright, the high sheriff of Liverpool, the police and crime commissioner and some bloke from the Bahraini Ministry for Justice. But that was the price we had to pay to make the place we lived just a little more tolerable.
In prison, around 40% of adult males have little or no literacy skills. So when they would go to the Kanga’s office to ask for something they would be handed a paper application to fill in. Rather than admit they couldn’t write they might kick off and say filling in wanker forms is a waste of time. The alarms would sound, the wing get locked down and tempers would flare when other prisoners missed gym sessions because of the disturbance. The ripple of the butterfly effect in action.
But with the PID, when a lad came over, Vinny or I would invite them to sit, grab the app they needed from our pigeon holes and start to fill it in for them. Apps were clear and concise and solutions were apparent, at the end of a shift we would present a bundle of apps to the Senior Officer in some semblance of order based on priority and complexity. All of a sudden, things were getting done. Violence dropped in the prison as I helped to roll out PIDs on the other wings.
Then the No1 Governor decreed that in the first night or induction wing, no prisoner was to be locked behind their door until they had been introduced to me at the PID so that Vinny and I could reassure them that things would start happen the next day. There were times I wasn’t locked behind my door till 11pm – my door was always opened at 7:45am. At that time it was a great way for me to distract myself from my crime I guess. Anyway, here’s the whole point of the story – forgive the preamble, but it needs that context.
So one evening I’m sat at the PID. Vinny and I have just seen three new arrivals who have been locked away for the night. Vinny opts for a quick shower before the next batch are brought up (a perk – having your choice of showers and loads of hot water as every other person was banged up!). As he left, the Senior Officer came and sat in my “client” seat. He had been a normal kanga when I had arrived. He smiled and said “You do an incredible job mate. It makes such a difference, and I’m really relieved.” Now that threw me – relieved? I asked him why he said that. He looked around to ensure that the other kanga wasn’t in earshot and said – “We had a big meeting about you when you arrived. Security were concerned.” I was puzzled, “But it’s my first offence boss – previous good character and all that.” He shook his head as he explained, “When you arrived on a murder charge it raised a flag. When it was your first offence it raised another flag. You were quiet and thoughtful, that raised a flag. You were intelligent and articulate, that raised a flag. And finally, you’re not exactly a small fellah to be fair. There were serious concerns about you.” I didn’t know what to think, or to say. Should I be outraged or flattered?
“Anyway,” he continued, “the consensus was that you would be an amazing asset and force for good or an absolute nightmare. Basically that you would either be a guy who would help keep the peace (gesturing at the PID) or you would be an insurrectionist and lead the whole population in a riot to topple the regime. I’m relieved that you became a force for good is all.”
He smiled. I paused for a second then checked nobody was in earshot. leaned forwards and whispered, “How do you know the riot isn’t tomorrow?”
He stopped smiling. Laughed nervously and went back to his office. He did look over his shoulder though which tickled me. For the next three years when he asked me “Riot today?” I’d just reply, “Nah boss. You’re still expecting it – where would be the surprise?”
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