... and again!

Well, when the fickle ould whore gives me one of her periodic size tens in the gusset, I've got to give her credit for never doing things by halves. Oh no, no slipshod work where that wicked strumpet is concerned. She sits at night with her gang - you know them: Chaos, Panic, Plague, Pestilence and my personal officer - plotting and planning to seek out even further ways to make my life just that little bit more difficult. And the gang have done it again!

Some time ago, when I was downgraded from Cat A to Cat B, I put in a request for transfer to a Cat B retirement prison. There is only one that I know of - Kingston in Portsmouth. Well, at sixty-two I can't have much longer on this wonderful little rock and I thought I'd like to spend a short time in the sun before handing in my dinner pail.

So, I made the application on the correct form and handed it to my personal officer for her to complete her section and to pass it on through "channels". Then I sat back and patiently waited for the answer from the powers that be. I asked my solicitor, Mike Pemberton, to take the matter up too - it never hurts to fire extra arrows. Mike wrote several letters to the prison asking about the transfer request but all were ignored, until this week. Clearly fed up with him badgering them, they sent him a letter telling him that there had been no request or application from me for such a transfer, and that I should submit one.

What can I say?

I have now made a further request for transfer and this time I handed it personally to a Senior Officer who assured me that she would see to it personally. We will see.

So once again, Lady Luck has booted me, assisted by my personal officer - and I'd been so nice to her too! Maybe she isn't used to anyone being nice to her; perhaps she has no reference point for it. Well it won't happen again. I won't be nasty. I don't do nasty, I just do ignorance. I've learned how from the Prison Service.

The Voice In The Wilderness