What do you do when Thierry Henri show’s up in your cell? Read below to find out.
In Prison with Thierry Henry – PART 1
There were three occasions when I came back from somewhere and found somebody new had moved into my cell while I had been away. It’s not an ideal situation at the best of times – it’s almost like coming home to find a licenced burglar or squatter. But whenever I even start to feel entitled or inconvenienced I remind myself of what I have done and why I am in prison. It soon restores my perspective.
Once the hierarchy of 51% vs 49% tenant has been established you just try to get on with it. The first man in the cell usually has the 51% – i.e. the casting vote if there is something that the pair can’t resolve amicably. The century-and-a-half-old cells of my prison were built for one man. Furthermore, judging by the number of times I twatted my head against the cell door frame he was under 5 foot 8 too! But after Michael Howard’s 1990’s declaration that ‘Prison Works’ most cells up and down the country were doubled and even trebled-up. Two people confined into a space that was originally designed for one wee person are going to rub each other up the wrong way.
There are the obvious issues around personal hygiene, farting, shitting and snoring but there are so many other flash-points that become apparent only when you face them. What TV shows are watched is an issue – as are the times during which it is acceptable to have the TV on. Food, toiletries and Burn (tobacco) are huge minefields – do you club together or just buy your own. What about visitors? Can he have his mates in the cell? Perhaps worst of all – what do you do when your padmate has a phone or drugs stashed in the cell?
Luckily the first two pad-mates I had were decent enough lads. They were both pretty clean, we had similar tastes in TV shows and neither of us addiction issues – we weren’t tempted to sell our stuff for smack (heroin). I remember one of my pals losing the plot with his drug-addict padmate who used to swap out his Lynx shower gel and Typhoo teabags with prison issue substitutes. Personally I had to applaud the kid’s initiative – not only that he managed to procure a hundred or so shampoo sachets, but that he also had the patience to open and pour them into a Lynx bottle in order to make £1. But the teabags should have been obvious – prison issue teabags have no holes in them – even the flavour of the tea leaves can’t escape!
Anyway, it had been a pretty unremarkable autumnal Wednesday – just about as dreary and bland a day as you could get. I came back from the gym, showered and waited while the Kanga unlocked my cell door. I was distracted as I walked into my cell and it was only as the cell door locked behind me that I saw Thierry Henry just sat there on my bed.
‘Holy Fuck!’ thought I.
‘Holy Fuck!’ said I.
Thierry Henry said nothing. I think he might have clocked my Irish accent. You see, at that time I had a perfect love-hate relationship with Thierry Henry.
Back in the days when I thought football was important I was a ‘Gooner’ – a monster fan of Arsenal Football Club. My first destination on my first day in London was Highbury – the then Arsenal stadium.
It is no coincidence that Thierry Henry’s Arsenal career came during arguably the most successful period in the football club’s history. If you know anything about football you will know Thierry Henry. If you don’t know anything about football, he is a mixed race French chap who used to advertise the Renault Clio’s Va-Va-Voom.
But as I stood there, wrapped in a towel looking at this Arsenal Legend I remembered another Thierry Henry. The French player that blatantly handled the ball in a World Cup play-off – an act that saw France progress onto the 2010 World Cup finals at the expense of The Republic of Ireland. I had taken this as a double betrayal. If any player had cheated against Ireland I would have been hurt – but for my hero Thierry Henry to do it – well it was almost too much to take.
I think Thierry sensed my internal struggle – he remained silent.
I turned on the TV to break the silence and buy some time to think. I got dried and dressed and made a brew – thinking all the while. I rolled a smoke and considered my options as I took a deep drag. I smiled as I thought about my own situation and I looked at Thierry as I said.
“Do you know lad, we are all here looking for redemption. We each of us have to live with the consequences of our actions. It would be pretty hypocritical for me to ask society for a second chance if I am not willing to offer you the same. So we will focus on the great things you did at the Arsenal and I forgive you for a mistake that you made in a moment of madness. In that spirit, hello Thierry! Bonjour et bien venue a Walton. Je m’appelle Moose.”
We’ve been pad-mates ever since! Now as to how Thierry Henry came to be my padmate – well that’s an even better story.
