Life get’s slightly better

26 Feb

I’m in the cell doing a bit of  shadow boxing, probably looking like a tool to an outside eyeball, but keeping myself active on a slow day.

An eyeball appears from behind the otherwise closed slide.

The door gets opened.


I’m asked.


I reply as courteous as I can, knowing this could be the one visit I’ve waited on for a while.

I get interviewed for a job on the wing as a cleaner. I feel nervous, I haven’t felt nervous for a job interview since I first stepped foot in the City. I’ve been an arrogant sod over such matters for years and here’s me, a prisoner in anything other than a Saville Row suit, baggy grey trackies courtesy of the Queen being interrogated for my suitability for such a role.

I’m asked why I should be given a job here.

I tell him, perhaps a bit stupidly:

“I’m trustworthy….”

Well, maybe I’m better off with the second offering:

“I live close by”

Humour doesn’t seem to be a strong point with this guy, so I chuck him the kitchen sink and see how it fits:

“I don’t smoke, I don’t borrow, lend or ponce, I wake up on time and I am sane” I notice his Veterans pin badge on the tie, I tell him a phrase Eddie had advised me to remember:

“Corps D’esprit” It means team spirit. So I sling him that too and tell him I’m ex Royal Artillery.

That’s done the trick……

“Pack your bags Mason, your moving”

Muted delight, where the hell am I going now?



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