The Ice cream argument.
It was a normal-ish Thursday morning. The new arrivals had been through their induction class, Vinney and I had submitted all of their applications and paperwork and we were sat at the Prisoner Information Desk (PID) we staffed having a coffee.
This was the calm half hour between the morning induction and when lunchtime diets would be served. We knew that there had been an ongoing difference of opinion – judging by the volume and the to’s and fro’s it would rage a while yet. When three of the wing cleaners made their way over to the PID Vinney and I knew we were getting drawn into it – like it or not.
Mark felt the ‘Guy’ was a mug. He deserved everything that he got. He spoke in clipped tones, trying to keep his voice from rising. His face was tinged crimson with the effort of trying not to swear.
Col was just as passionate, but his words flowed like the Mersey as the tide went out, a stream of Scouse wit. In his mind the ‘Guy’ was stitched up, it was the ‘Old Bird’ that was out of order.
Terry was a shit-stirrer. He flipped from one side to the other – literally. He would take a little hop and appear by Mark’s side, punctuating Mark’s arguments by adding various comments like, “Yeah, is right lad!” and “What have you got to say to that?”
Then it would be a matter of seconds before he sidled up beside Col to do exactly the same thing to Mark. This had been going on all morning. Everybody on the wing knew what was happening. Everybody had an opinion but most were wise enough to avoid getting involved with this trio. Eventually an exasperated Mark turned to me and Vinney and asked, “What do youz think?”
For an instant the trio shut up – if only we could have frozen that moment. But Vinney was quicker off the mark than I, “What was it you said about this earlier today Moose?” Bastard.
I took a sip of coffee, gave Vinney a smile and said. “They were both mugs and both of them should have been booted out of the tent.”
Spoiler Alert – if you are watching the Great British Bake Off on Netflix or whatever, this was the morning after the Ice Cream incident – where one contestant (Old Bird) had taken another (Guy) contestant’s ice cream out of the freezer ‘accidentally’. The Guy had thrown it into the bin in a strop rather than trying to salvage it and had been kicked out of the show as a result.
Now there are a few significant things here. First, prisoners are normal people. I have found prison to be a micro-society where every demographic is represented. As I write this, we prisoners are having the same Brexit debates, discussions and arguments that are occurring on the outside. While The Mail and The Sun like to dehumanise prisoners and use terms like ‘Lags’ to describe us, prisoners are just like you. While Shakespeare’s Shylock is no paragon of virtue, he too was misunderstood when he said, “…Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? – if you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?”
Second, TV is about our only connection to society, whether it is the news, the Olympics or Bake Off. We know we’re in the count down for Christmas when the X-Factor and Strictly start. Many men rely on the soap operas to feel a connection to their families – to know that their loved ones are sat together in the living room watching Emmerdale while they too are watching in their cell. The plots and story-lines are discussed over phone calls and on visits.
Third, TV breaks up our sentences. I can’t tell you how often I have watched the first episode of a new TV drama, then tuned in weekly only to suddenly realise I am at the season finale – episode 12 of 12 – punctuating another 12 weeks of prison that has passed. Some people can do their entire sentence in a single drama. Whereas I, like many lifers, find it more practical to measure my sentence in World Cups, Olympics and Presidents.
In fact, just as the ice cream argument was about to flare up again by the PID on that Thursday morning, the gate behind us creaked open and Mrs M walked onto the landing. Mrs M was the wing’s PO (Principal Officer) – in prison officer hierarchy a kanga is a private, an SO is like a sergeant and a PO like a captain or Major.
“Morning Mrs M.” We were sheepish and immediately made pathetic efforts to look busy.
“Well I never thought I would see the day.” She looked at each of the five of us in turn – I had flashbacks of the principal’s office in school. “Murder – Kidnapping – Murder – Drug Importation – And Armed Robbery. Bake off lads – Bake off? Really? What world have I walked into today?” We didn’t answer her rhetorical question as she walked off bemoaning what we were doing to the reputation of her prison.
For all the horror stories you hear about prison, that was the most memorable thing that happened during that entire week. A PO took the piss out of us for watching Bake Off.
