Tag Archives: banker in bangup

The Land of Oz

20 Mar

Morning comes and a loud bangings woken me up. An inmate across the landing from me plays a drum solo on his door. I’m sufficiently confident enough here now, to want to find out who this person is and shout down his face.

I’ve got a short fuse today from a light sleep the previous night. Thoughts of getting out of this place and onward into the future’s freedom, dreams that stir excitement and keep your eyes from settling shut. I must have dreamt of an open prison and the lairy landing neighbour’s ripped me out of my ‘Happy Place’.

The doors are opened and I go first to the landing office to check my pay. I’m now doing two jobs and I should therefore see a preferential level of pay. At least more than those on unemployment wage here. I knock, I wait, ignored and wait.

The door opens eventually. I’m ignored a little more, then I ask to check my wages.

Surprise – I’ve not been paid.

More displeased than before, I drown my sorrows in a huge bowl of cereal.

I’d been told my pay would be amended by today, I’m due wages from the day my working career had begun. Payments are generally made daily onto your account, providing they are inputted in the first place. Which it seems has been the case here. Not 1 day, but on more than 15 occasions. That’s an attention to detail at omitting to make payment that the Greek Government admire! I could make a point that this is:

Obtaining services by deception……

But let’s be honest here, I’m not going to am I? No. The gym roll call comes round and the matter is forgotten about.

Darren and I grab a towel and a bottle of squash then head down to the end of the landing as per usual. A list is handed around where inmates visiting the gym write their names. Theres a lot of people today called X 🙂

I run off briefly and post D’s kids birthday cards and a letter for his missus, he meanwhile appends our names to that list.

Waiting for the screw to come along and let us through, I smirk as I see George join us for the gym. I smirk from remembering the first time I spoke to him here. Just a week back I and the others headed back from a gym session when George, a tall Aryan looking man remarks that in the City he would pay £80 a month for that in Cannon Street. I know the gym he’s talking about, a uni pal took me there once. We strike up conversation but the entire time I’m thinking:


Got to be on remand for murder, a Wifer* or similar. The more I look at him the more I see a picture of married lunacy exploding in a fitful of rage. His strong manner, his swagger… Murder or attempted, I think its’s got to be.

*A ‘Wifer’ is a man who has done his Wife in.

George has done none of these things, your mind wanders when you rock up some place like this. He fiddled the books he was overseeing while managing to cut their budget year on year. Doing a good job, so had a little play. Owned up, paid right up, a guilty plea a year old and with a baby less than a week , still got a hefty bird. Who says Judges are soft. Despite paying it all back, the Crown are trying to get money he earned legitimately through his own business in the years before too. I wonder if the incentive of bankruptcy or bailiffs chasing you on release is a good motivation to stay crime free or if it poses the threat that it may make reoffending more likely? I’ll leave that thought open. My name’s being called.


What have I done I thought? My name is yelled out again.

Is it my letters?

My stash of photos?

My Diary?

The uniform approaches

Its one of the friendlier screws, an old east end dog:

“What have I done?” I ask

“Nothing you tart – pack your bags, you’re moving”

Flashback to the verbal nudge and the wink from the D-Man last night.

“Where my off to Gov?”

I’m off to FORD!