Tag Archives: POCA
29 May

A stressful day with a few laughs, well one laugh actually, so here goes:

A former inmate at Ford: Neil Kinnock (Not that Neil Kinnock) was released in 2009 with many creditors on his back and the prospect of a Proceeds of Crime Confiscation Hearing. Money demanded of him that he did not have or had not had. The criminal mastermind that is Neil Kinnock (Not that Neil Kinnock) came upon an elaborately simple and potentially match-winning ruse. Changing his name by deedpoll may be the answer to his problems – his cloaking device if you will. Sadly for Neil Kinnock (Not that Neil Kinnock) this is where his problems it seems began.

Neil Kinnock (Yes, not that Neil, the former Labour MP, MEP etc) did however appear to be somewhat attached to his name, so he changed Neil to Neal. See what he did there, smart move…

Now the devotion to his birth and ancestral name did not stop there, fond too was he of his surname. Who wouldn’t be fond of  a name that is shared with one of the biggest drips in recent UK Political history. Therefore Kinnock became Kynoch, of course; real nous. Thinking this was the answer to his problems, he ignored the obvious complexities of the Identity systems in a developed country, that include Electoral Rolls, Credit files, Passport Agency, National Insurance and NHS Records; he now again resides at HMP Ford.

He has been re-sentenced for failing to pay his Proceeds of Crime Order. He was returned as Neal Kynoch, it didn’t work. I hear him today reticient to admit defeat and even offering advice to others on how to do it… Insane. Maybe he should have pleaded madness instead.

An overworked education office sees one orderly leave and me being rebuked for using sarcastic language. Me, a troublemaker?

The day is saved by the arrival of a handwritten letter from my lady love, postmarked Goa.

I write some poetry in a flat moment:

I find out the next day that I am now an ENHANCED prisoner. This means a payrise to £9.50 per week and an extra visit  a month. Playboy.

I set a new PB on the rower over 5000metre, 18 mins 55.9 seconds, then place my time on the leaderboard in the gym. It is the quickest so far, though I expect it will get beaten by my cellmate in a day or two.

I have my visits form processed which is good news. The last time I saw my sister and her husband was at the Great Hall on the morning after their wedding tucking into a lavish buffet breakfast. A flapjack and a diet coke in the visit hall is perhaps not so decadent, but is still something to look forward too. Burger and Chips for dinner, boxing on the telly and  a quiz night coming up. This weekend is at least as good as a day in Slough.



A little BIG surprise – Day 47

25 Apr


I complete my final woodwork assessment. (Random things to care about – the modern me)

It’s been a bit of  a marathon test and now I have something to show for my sentence.

There’s a letter from Richard, my brief. It seems that despite having settled up on my Confiscation Order, there is still a matter of ….

ZERO pounds and

Six pence!

The cost of a first class stamp is how much?

I hear this matter has been lingering on for 3 weeks now. It has involved a great deal post between the Courts, the FSA and my taxpayer funded solicitors. Chuck in some legal-time for phone calls and secretarial messages, you can bet your bottom dollar, that this outstanding sixpence is likely to have cost a good deal more. By my reckoning more than a ‘thousandfold’.

You’re reading this and you might be putting this on me. I assure you, had I known I would have endorsed the debiting my prison account of £0.06. This is however the fault of bureaucracy and those tax wasters in the world of Government departments. This latter comment is not a jibe at the army of:



Teachers…. blah blah blah

But the vast numbers of men and women who don’t consider the value of the taxes that fund them and the cost of their procrastination.

I’m sure the FSA refused to accept my Proceeds of Crime Order had been fulfilled until this 6 pence had been paid.

“It’s the principle!” They stamp their feet. Arms crossed:


Nice one guys, you just cost the taxpayers you serve, hundreds of pounds on this one. A little lateral thinking wouldn’t have gone amiss there.


I fill out my canteen sheet and seek out the prison barber.

You don’t pay to have your hair cut with fags and baccy if you can avoid it in prison. Though invariably barbers differ in their skills and if you require something a little special, then I guess a set of clippers set to grade 1, won’t cut it. Trying to save money on hair products, with my limited funds, I’ve got a shorn head. Being the grey man.

The barber in Ford, Marvin, he’s good on the shears and his little job sees him tucked away in a mini salon. King of his little domain, he lowers ears all day in a set-up not too dissimilar I imagine to that which he worked in before he got sent down. In his late twenties, serving a 5 for drugs, he’s a cool cat and makes his visitors feel that they are indeed sat in a barber shop somewhere close to London Fields or Brixton Hill Road; complete with angry rap music and the white tissue your given at the end of the chop to do what you will with.

NB: I have no idea what that tissue is for.

Nor do I know what the warm towel on a Jet is for either.

Mystery of the Human Race.

Haircuts here are booked and fitted in via a workplace rota. My shift is wednesday morning as I am in education; however after finding the barber likes to down tools and play football on a wednesday, I decide for today only, I work in….

(Checks Hair Salon Rota…)

Injection Moulding. Yes for one day only, I am a folically disillusioned injection moulder in need of a trim for what would be my first visit since sentencing, this weekend.

Heart strings tugged – Marvin finds the time for me, in his 3 hour schedule, despite being chock-a-block with 1 other appointment.  What a guy! 🙂

He does a banging cut, it’s just a shame he tried to flog Colombian Marching Powder to a Copper; he could be earning enough on the out. He failed the first rule of a good salesman:

‘Know your Customer’


‘NO… REALLY know your customer’

(Read my book: the Wideboy’s Handbook, to learn other sales tips)

I learn from our chat he’s got more important priorities in life these days – time will see him right, I don’t doubt it. Good luck to you Marv.

In the afternoon, I knock out 12 rounds of 2 minutes of skipping before dinner as well as helping my room-mate sort out his washing.


I walk into the dining hall with Spence and join the rear of the winding, snakelike queue.

I feel a presence on me, I’m a little uncomfortable. More to the point, I know someone is watching me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a figure staring at me.

I spin round and face the figure.

Double take

The imposing figure, the silver hair…