Shall I tell you about the time I went to prison?
I've been gripped by that Wormwood Scrubs doc that is currently on. Having been there myself it's of special interest. Relax, I've not done time, but I have been inside the Scrubs. The programme made me realise that the brief glimpse I got of the place, though grim, was nothing like the reality. Yes, yes, yes, F-C, you cry impatiently, but what exactly were you doing inside a prison? Well, let me tell you.
We had some friends who were doing work that involved Wormwood Scrubs. Something social worky, not quite sure what, but through that they got invited to the lifers' Christmas do. Would we like to go to, they asked? We nearly bit their hands off. Well, we were curious.
So we went through those familiar gates, up the tunnel. Counted in, counted in again, past the dogs and the razor wire and into a huge hall where the show was to be held. Like a village hall that hasn't been cleaned for 45 years, it was awful. There was a trestle table bar, and several tables of families and friends who'd come to watch their loved ones perform.
The show itself was a curious mix of bonkers and heartbreaking, as well as being slightly scary. Most people sung songs about being free as a bird (their own compositions), there were some unmemorable skits and someone sang Love Changes Everything very badly. People snickered. I watched with a mixture of horror and bemusement. What did they all do? What did that weasley accountant one who looks like he didn't harm a fly actually do to get life?
So when the show was over, and I was awash with cheap wine (and I mean cheap - I'm sure someone distilled it in their cell as I had the mother of all hangovers the next day), we met the case our friends had been working on. He'd murdered someone but of course he didn't do it. He was clearly mad. That was the first murderer I'd ever shaken hands with. The other one came years later and was in EastEnders. Anyway, I've a feeling he might be dead now.
We met the terrifying (female) governor, Mrs F-C had to go the loo behind the stage where murderers and rapists sat louchely smoking fags. I had to go through the billiard room to oblute in a loo that had seen better days. The greenhouse scene from Scum was playing on a loop in my head.
It was dreadful, but I wouldn't have missed it. That said, I never want to go back there. You hear tales. Mum and Dad had a friend who went to jail for fraud. This happily married man was spotted seven years later arm in arm with another man at Junior Wimbledon. And the mother of a friend of mine did nine years for drug smuggling. In prison she became hard. It changes you.
Anyway, did you see that Boy George thing last night. I loved it. Great music.
