Possession of truth

When oft I sit in pensive mood, (a small classical reference there) and ponder upon my lot in general, and on current difficulties in particular, something always comes to mind, and it's the same thought every time - whatever may be bothering me today will have been completely forgotten by this time next year and I will have a whole new series of things to worry about. 

That's all life is you see! Well, it is for the vast majority of us anyway. We spend it all lurching from problem to crisis, day after day. Alfred E. Newman used to say:

What! ME! WORRY!

That's the frame of mind we need to aim at I think.

My missing (well not missing exactly, because we know exactly where they are) documents, which form part of 'An Abuse of Justice', have still not been returned to me, although I DID get an answer to a complaint which said that if I demanded they be returned to me that would delay their posting out! I have never heard so much gammon in my life! Some of those documents have been illegally held by the Security here in Long Lartin for almost two months! How long does it take to put something in the post? I could have trained a pigeon to drag the package to Sheffield in two months. I have demanded the return of the documents.

I think the part that is bothering them is the fact that I am not creating havoc, making waves or issuing threats, throwing dummies out of prams, ranting and raving or anything else that could be seen as anti-social. I see no reason why I should. The thing is that they can deal with that sort of behaviour, they have the mentality to do so, and the equipment. What they can't deal with is someone who is honest about everything and calmly reasonable. The prison system doesn't do 'honest' you see, they don't understand it. They actually struggle with the whole idea and concept of 'honest' because they do not employ it.

Let me put it this way:

Does a snake understand how an eagle flies?

The snake has no conception of the thing, but it DOES know that the flying creature above is a danger to it. Well, that's how it is with the prison system and an honest prisoner. They have no idea what to do about him but do understand the fact that he is dangerous. The danger comes not from the honesty but from the attitude of those running things in the prison system. And I do not mean the ordinary kangaroo who has to deal with prisoners on a daily basis. Oh no, most of them do their best. It is the upper echelons who sneak about in dark corners, whispering behind their hands and misleading, lying and backstabbing. How high up the food chain they climb actually depends on their ability to lie and mislead.

Let me give a perfect example of this. Every prison security department knows the identity of every junkie and dealer within its environs, but do they give them weekly drug tests? Do they hell. They give weekly tests to the prisoners they KNOW do NOT take drugs because that gives them a good figure for their quarterly report on drug management policies. 1t is a fraud, smoke and mirrors to fool the general public. "Look!" they cry. "Our test figures show that we are sucessfully tackling the drug problem!"

All lies of course. They make no attempt whatsoever to tackle the drug problem, not so much as lift a finger. In fact it is quite the opposite because they actively encourage drug taking as a control measure.

They deal in a murky world as second nature! This is why they have no idea what to do when they come up against an honest man. They have no reference points to work from.

Now, having said all I have said, it will be seen as subversive and troublemaking. It's not their fault, it never is, it has to be the fault of the prisoner.

Wasn't it John Locke who wrote:

"It is one thing to show a man that he is in error, and another to put him in possession of truth."

The Voice In The Wilderness

... 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

Lady Luck does it again

She's done it again!

Once again, that fickle ould tart Lady Luck has donned her well-polished Doctor Martin eighteen-holers, grinned wickedly at the other Fates, Muses and Lesser Gods, taken careful aim and ... KABOOM... right in the family jewels.

As I lie writhing in agony on the floor, it occurs to me that it is about time she turned her attention elsewhere to be honest. It is a well-established and historical fact, that every time I feel that things are finally beginning to go right for me, along she comes, sashaying along the boulevards in her five-oh-ones and her D.M.s, swinging her handbag at any nearby pigeons.

Some time ago, when I was downgraded from Cat A to Cat B, I wrote about the fact in this blog. In that vignette I mentioned my personal officer and, as far as I recall, I was quite nice about her. Well, apparently this sort of thing is frowned upon within the prison estate because it seems that she complained and became 'concerned' about it. Before anyone asks the obvious question - I don't know why! Okay?

For a long time now, I have been writing a document about my case to assist in the struggle for justice, the title of which is "An Abuse of Justice". I have been sending out regular weekly instalments to Andrew, who manages my website. Every fact, every figure is taken from my diaries and, where I can, I include legal documents to verify what I say. The output so far is about 1,450 pages, and I have reached the year 2003.

On August 10th, I sent the latest instalment, plus supporting documentation, to Andrew - but it never got there! I had sent it, as I always do, by recorded delivery so was obviously confused by its non-arrival. So when I sent out the next instalment on Monday August 31st, this time I sent it by special delivery. That didn't get there either.

Then, on Sunday September 6th, I was called into an office where I met the Security Governor, Mr Ian Dickens, and a Senior Officer. My documents were all on the desk, unposted. Mr Dickens (he's got the name but not the imagination), had apparently been on to my website in response to my personal officer's concerns and had there discovered that the logo encompasses the words "An Abuse of Justice"! He informed me that I had done nothing wrong - everything had been done openly and honestly - and that the matter would be resolved by the middle of the week (i.e. September 9th).

Although the Prison Service is not allowed even to read legal documents, never mind confiscate them or keep them from me, the documents have not been given back to me.

So here I am again - writhing about the floor after Lady Luck's delivery of another one of her specials to the bollocks. The part I particularly like is the fact that I have done nothing wrong, not a thing. I spend my days constructively, never break any rules and generally comport myself with decency and fairness to all, yet I keep getting these steel toecaps in the testicularities. Maybe if I were a thieving, lying, treacherous backstabber of a junkie I would be better thought of. I'm not, so I suppose I will just have to carry on as I am - but I may take a few extra precautions against the lady in the Doc Martens. Does anyone have an old cricket cup they don't need?

The Voice In The Wilderness

Some news - lots of thoughts

This week we have news! And the news is on a par with the arrival of Halley's Comet, an eclipse of the sun and Ian Paisley speaking civilly to a Republican. In fact, it would be safe to say that this sort of news is as rare as rocking-horse dung.

The news is about the appeal! I had a letter yesterday (Friday 24th July) from Mr Campbell Malone in which he tells me that the C.C.R.C. have written to both himself and myself to inform us that we have now been allocated a Case Review Manager and, according to Mister Malone, the manager in question is a worthy, capable and thorough fellow - which I am delighted to hear. As yet I have not received my letter from the C.C.R.C., so perhaps it has been sent to my previous establishment of H.M.P. Whitemoor. Whether they send it on to me is another matter.

Mr Malone asks me if I have asked the C.C.R.C. to consider any matters other than those listed in the original application. I don't know - I haven't had the letter to check yet. I wonder if I have asked the C.C.R.C. to consider anything which I haven't yet told Mr Malone about. I don't know. I think I asked the C.C.R.C. to examine my website, because there is an awful lot of stuff on there they may find interesting in connection with the appeal. However, never having seen the website myself, I can't actually direct them to anything in particular, just to the site in general. Will this Case Review Manager be diligent and examine it all? I don't know. I hope so.

All of that notwithstanding, the news is that we have progress on the appeal front and that simply HAS to be good news.

Secondly, I had a letter from Mike Pemberton who deals with all of the internal prison stuff - Category Reviews, Sentence Planning, Parole Board hearings and so on. He is setting about the task of having me transferred to a Category B prison - at least he will ask the Powers-That-Be, which is not the same as having any success. It took me twenty-three years to get off the Category A, so to get a sensible move may take just as long - the Ministry of Justice may not be too kindly disposed towards an upstart who has had the temerity to challenge them in the High Court. I may have to pay for that with more years of stonewalling - but we shall see.

So I sit here and ponder, something which I have grown quite accustomed to doing over the years. It is supposed to be good for the mind and soul apparently - they even have courses to teach prisoners how to ponder. As William Henry Davies put it:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

The point is that we have got some movement with the C.C.R.C. and that has to be welcome news.

Finally, I am sitting here before this decrepit old typewriter and searching in the midden of my mind for a pithy quote to end with, and nothing is coming - the mind produceth zilch! So I thought I would just throw in one from Herbert Spencer apropos nothing at all:

How often misused words generate misleading thoughts.

The Voice In The Wilderness

Numbnuts the Dragon Chaser

There is no further news this week - about anything at all really! In fact the only thing I have had from anyone or anywhere this week is the official notification of my downgrading - and THAT came via my solicitor and not from any official source. To be fair - and we all know that I am fair if nothing else - to be fair, they have promised that full reasons for my downgrading will be issued later in the month.

I shall look forward to that.

So, absolutely zilch to report - nada, zero, nuffink, nowt, as they say in Yorkshire.

However, I have an interesting tale to tell which is connected. Earlier in the past week I was sitting here, in my little bedsit (government designed of course) and banging away at my typewriter, as I do every day. Well, it keeps me off the streets.

Someone tapped on my cell door, shoved their head inside and said, "Frank, can I have a word with you?"

I turned to see who dared enter the bailliwick of this brand new category B prisoner. I saw a fellow - and at this stage I have to say that I cannot use his name. It is verboten, forbidden, not allowed, proscribed. Well, we have to consider the privacy laws - much as the police do when they kick someone's front door in with their size twelves at the crack of dawn. But let's not be vindictive here.

No, I cannot use this fellow's name so I have to think of a nickname which suits him. I shall call him either The Great Pretender or Numbnuts the Dragon Chaser. I think we will use the latter, it fits him nicely.

So, I regard his ravaged countenance and say, "'What can I do for you, Numbnuts the Dragon Chaser?"

He comes in and parks himself on my bed. "Frank," says he, just to help me out a bit in case I have forgotten my name, after all, I'm getting on a bit now. "Frank," says he, "you know this case you have just won, can it help me at all?"

"Who knows?" said I.

He doesn't listen - the dragon-hunting fraternity never do. He says, "I've been in jail nearly as long as you and I'm still Cat. A. My case is just the same as yours."

"Ah!" said I, " Not quite."

"It is," he argues. "I'm denying everything so they can't ask me to do any courses and... "

"Numbnuts," said I, stopping his flow, "there's a big difference between avoiding courses and actually being innocent. Besides, I've done courses. I've done full Offending Behaviour Group courses, and that's not counting the education I've done and all the rest of it."

"Yeah," said he, not listening still, "but I've been a Cat. A for..."

I stopped him. Had enouqh of him to be honest. "Look," said I and wagged a finger, "I'm going to tell you the facts of life here, Numbnuts, and it's up to you whether you listen or not. I don't give a shit personally. You are bang at it on the smack, everybody knows - you have been for years. I've lost count of the times you have been moved from prison to prison, under very controversial circumstances to say the least. You need to face reality, mate. Until you stop taking that shit, you are going nowhere. And I'm not talking about stopping for five minutes, you'll need between five and ten years clear, no trouble. But you won't see that, will you? I don't give a toss what you do, none of my affair, but if you want to go home, you need to take notice of what I am saying."

"I've got a parole hearing soon," said he. "I think I'll get it."

Ah! The logic of a dragon-chaser. They can convince themselves of anything - apart from reality and the facts. Oh well, he is over twenty-one, he can make his own mind up and go to buggery in any way he sees fit I suppose, but I'm not about to waste time or effort to help him.

I said, "I haven't got the wording of any judgements. All I've got is the court order, and as far as I know that's only on my website, I don't have a copy here."

"Have you got a website?" he asked. "I never knew that. I'm going to get one."

Oh dear, no matter what anyone says to a Fellow of the Dragon Quest, he will instantly adopt it.

Well he went off about his business - maybe he heard a lonely dragon crying somewhere in the distance - and I sat and thought about it. Nobody is doing a thing about this problem - the men with the monkey on their back. Oh they pay lip service but they are actually doing sweet bugger-all. If it took me all of these years to get a bit of progress, what chance have fellows like Numbnuts the Dragon Chaser got?

The Voice In The Wilderness

I'm going to feed Machiavelli's ducks!

By now it will be known, by those who are interested, that I am no longer a Category 'A' prisoner but have been downgraded to a Category 'B'.

This time last week, the Secretary of State considered me far too dangerous to be allowed to sleep right through the night without Florence Nightingale waking me every five minutes just to make sure I hadn't departed my cell via the window, or some other self-made aperture. I could not prove that my levels of dangerousness had reduced to where I no longer had to have my cell searched every 28 days to make sure that I was not creating some device for tunnelling to Australia.

But now, I am no longer considered to be a danger to the public, the police or national security should I escape. Everyone can now sleep soundly in their beds, the police can go about their affairs without worrying about me turning up in some dark alley to ambush them and, of course, Special Branch can take me off their Christmas card list.

So what has happened in the meantime to reduce my levels of danger? The answer is quite simple - absolutely bugger-all.

The only reason I have been removed from the 'A' list is the precise same reason I was on it in the first place - convenience. It will be remembered that my solicitor challenged the Prison Service in the Queen's Bench Division on their decision not to hold an oral hearing into my category. That was in March of this year, and the Secretary of State lost the case - he had to hold an oral hearing into my category. Of course he appealed, on the rather odd grounds (amongst others) that to grant me an oral hearing - as laid down by law - could create a constitutional crisis. Well, I've said all I intend to say about constitutions.

The Secretary of State appealed the decision by HHJ Jarman and the appeal went before The Master of the Rolls, Lord Justice Scott Baker, and Lady Justice Smith on Wednesday 24th June 2009. The matter was between The Queen on the Application of Wilkinson - the Respondent/Claimant - and the Secretary of State for Justice - the Appellant/Defendant. It was held in Court 71, appeal number C1/2009/0816, and it took a mere fifty minutes for the court to decide:

The Appellant's application to proceed with the appeal is refused.

That's that then. The court ruled in my favour and THAT is why I have been deemed as no longer dangerous - because the Secretary of State doesn't want others asking for oral hearings; not because of any constitutional cobblers, but because holding oral hearings would be inconvenient and too much trouble for those who deal with these things. It's as simple as that really. Actually, I really did want a judgement so that others COULD use it as grounds for their own cases, but that has heen neatly sidestepped of course.

Well, their reasoning is quite simple and at the same time Machiavellian:

If we take him off the cat 'A' then the problem simply goes away!

And that is what they have done. Dangerousness or otherwise has nothing at all to do with it - never has had.

So, now I have to think about what happens next because being out of the Category 'A' system I no longer come under the Secretary of State or his minions in the matter of where I go to, what prison. Put it this way - I can now make progress.

So where do I go to? Being retired and medically unfit for any sort of work, I cannot go to a Category 'B' Training prison, that would make no sense at all. I have to go to a retirement prison and, as far as I know, there is only one in the country - Kingston in Portsmouth. So, that's the next step I suppose, to ask to go to Kingston. I understand they've got a duck pond there - I'd better start to save up my crusts.

The Voice In The Wilderness

Progress!

Today (Wednesday July 1st 2009) at about four-fifteen in the afternoon, I was sitting in my cell at my typewriter, banging away at 'An Abuse of Justice' as I slowly melted in the heat, when a little voice behind me said, "Frank!"

I turned to see my personal officer, a very nice young woman, who is invariably nice to all she speaks to and who seems to smile easily, an asset in this world of gloom and depression. I like her. She has that rare affliction found in very few - a sense of humour.

"What?" said I in my best James Cagney voice.

"I've been told to tell you that you have been downgraded," said she, smiling.

Why smile? I presumed I had been downgraded from an Enhanced status to a Standard prisoner [i.e. on the Incentives and Earned Privileges Scheme]. There was no reason I could see for such a downgrading, but everything can be expected when we deal with the prison service - the more unnecessary a thing is, the more likely it is too.

However, before I could say anything, she went on, "You have been downgraded to a Cat 'B' so you are off the Cat 'A'."

"What?" said I, great conversationalist that I am.

"I've just been told," said she. "I'll go and get you a new cell card."

Well, there's a turn up for the books. And of course it has immense ramifications in a lot of areas. Now I can have visits from anyone I like without them being security cleared, if I had that desire. I will no longer be woken every five minutes by the night fellow checking to see if I have escaped since the last time he looked. There will be less security directed at me. I could apply for a job of trust in the library, if I weren't retired.

Most important, I can now ask to go to a Cat 'B' prison. Of course, being retired, no Cat 'B' training prison will want me because they are all working jails. No, I only have the one option - Kingston in Portsmouth. A place for geriatric old duffers like me. A place where they feed the ducks and call it sport.

All of the arguments, in the High Court and elsewhere, are all academic now - redundant, finito, over. I have no idea why they should choose this particular time to downgrade me, and I'm not going to look any gift horses in the mouth, but I will wonder about it.

Whatever the reason, and some would say it should have happened fifteen years ago, I am now a Category 'B' prisoner, one of the lesser creatures in the pond, and, as such, I am now allowed to make some sort of progress.

I just thought you'd like to know.

The Voice In The Wilderness

An expert assessment

'Risk Assessment' - a wonderful activity being carried out these days in all sorts of areas and for all manner of purposes. The general practice seems to be that experts in whatever field (and, let's face it, some of them belong in fields) gather together the facts on a particular subject, consider, and then produce an assessment before which the rest of us plebs fall on our knees to worship at the shrine of their wisdom and perspicacity.

Mind, they have to be sure they get their facts right or their finished assessment is about as much good as a chocolate fireguard.

Prison is no exception. But, while they have the general idea, they have decided to cut corners drastically so don't bother with using experts. They use trainee experts instead, who are supposed to be scrutinised by experts as they carry out their alchemy, but of course never are. Nor are there any checks to ensure that the facts are right to begin with - and one small error at the start of any assessment can have catastrophic consequences at the end. However, undaunted by this, they go ahead merrily on their assessments, ticking boxes like lunatics and telling the public what a wonderful job of rehabilitating prisoners they are doing.

This approach might help explain why they seem to be getting it wrong all the time! Not only are the reoffending levels rising, but for those who have completed such courses identified as necessary by the risk assessments, they are higher than for those who haven't.

Recently, I had a conversation with a youngish fellow who told me that he had done all of the courses and, because of that, he expected to be moved to a Category 'C' prison very soon. Once there, he would quickly get himself released, and he had his future all planned out: he would buy a bit of 'gear' (drugs) from some friends of a fellow he had met in jail, and within six months would be a millionaire.

I asked him if he had told the authorities of this plan during his assessments.

"No man! I ain't no fool! I tell them me is going to get a job and settle down with my baby mudder!"

What can I add to that?

So now we come to my own assessment. For years and years they were insisting that I needed to take part in a basic education course. I have three degrees, but it took about four years to get the assessors to actually check with education about that.

Okay, they decided to stop asking me to learn how to read and write.

Then, "We require you to take an Enhanced Thinking Skills course."

I produced certificates and essays, tracts and various writings which caused them to admit, after a few more years, that I did not require an E.T.S. course.

"We need to teach you about Victim Awareness!"

"Done it."

"Consequences!"

"Done it."

"Patterns of Offending!"

"Done it."

"Attitudes to Crime!"

"Done it."

"Excuses, Risks, etcetera etcetera."

"Done em."

"Controlling Anger and Learning to Manage it!"

Right, let us consider the last twenty-three years of simply banging my head against a brick wall with none of them listening to a word I say and yet, I have not become angry or lost the plot. Everyone says I am a calm fellow who is a calming influence on the more volatile.

I could go on, but I think my general drift is clear, or at least should be to those with more than one working brain cell. It is not apparently clear to the experts who are running the prison service. They deal with real things, like tick-boxes. Well, you know where you are with a tick in a box - you can see it, it's there, it is evidence!

Evidence of what? Evidence that there is a tick in a box, that's all. It says nothing at all about the prisoner. What can give a proper picture of a prisoner is to speak to those who know him, those who deal with him on a daily basis and who observe his behaviour. THAT'S where the real evidence comes from. However, those people are ignored and, instead, faceless individuals sit in their ivory towers, checking to see what boxes have been given a tick and, of course, making assessments.

Just think, if I could create a crystal ball, I would be invited to join them in their ivory towers and then I too could rip the arse out of the public by telling them that I could predict the future - and get a huge salary for doing so. No, wait a minute, if I could predict the future I would buy a lottery ticket! I wonder how many of the experts and assessors buy lottery tickets - and, more to the point, how many of them have actually won anything...

Oh yes, and apparently I am incapable of abstract thought. That's nice to know.

The Voice In The Wilderness

Playing with themselves

I had a Risk Assessment Management Board (RAM Board) scheduled for 2:30 pm on Tuesday 9th June - mind, when I got there it had miraculously been transformed into a Sentence Planning Board, but perhaps the two are interchanqeable. Whatever it Was, I had it on Tuesday afternoon, although it started at almost three in the afternoon, lasted ten minutes and I got thrown out at the end. Not that it matters - I've been thrown out of better places than that SOBER!

When I went in, I found myself in front of a typical prison board. They DO like their intimidatory tactics of the long table, the array of forces with their piles of folders stacked against the poor con - all that kind of gammon.

There was a young female officer who introduced herself as the Chairman of the Board - an S.O. with neither experience nor qualifications, but who am I to carp? Next to her, another young girl who introduced herself as the person taking the minutes! She had a trainee sitting next to her and I can only presume that the trainee was there to make the numbers up. Next to her sat an officer from my wing, not my personal officer of course, that would be silly because it would make sense and the prison service don't do sense. My personal officer had been sent off to one of the workshops. Going around the table the other way, starting at the Chairman, there sat another woman who introduced herself as the representative of the education department. Finally, there was a governor who introduced himself as the Head of Offender Management, Mr Sidney. My first question has to be - if there is a governor available, why isn't he chairing the fiasco?

So, I got sat down and the chairman/woman/girl asked me what my plan was for the next year? It irritates me when people speak to me as though I am a new boy or a tourist or something - patronising isn't the word.

I said, "I don't understand the question."

She said, "Well, we are here to decide on the next year..."

"I thought you were."

She ignored that. "...for your sentence plan!"

"I've got a sentence plan," said I. "I've had it for twenty-three years."

"What's that?"

"To go home," I answered. "What's your plan?"

At this point, the governor decided that more authority was needed because clearly I did not have my hat in my hands and my lips were not pursed in readiness to kiss any arses. I wasn't conforming to the norm for prisoners. Well, the governor and I started to argue ahout how I am clearly not a person who will accept things at face value and when I said, "I've been in jail twenty-three years mate, I'm not impressed", he said, "I've been in the job thirty-three years!" I came back with, "Yes, but you went home every single night. I haven't been home in twenty-three years. There's a difference."

Anyway, they threw me out and the governor threatened to come and see me the next day, Wednesday. It is Saturday now and I am still waiting. What will he have to say? Not much as far as I can see, and he has clearly realised that himself - that's why he hasn't turned up. They haven't even bothered to threaten me over the incident, not a word said.

Could it be that they are finally getting the message that I am sick to the back teeth of their games and I'm not playing any more? From now on, they will have to play their tick-box games on their own, without me. They will have to play the game with themselves - and, as every schoolboy knows, there is a name for people who play with themselves.

The Voice in the Wilderness

Thinking - that's what ticks my box

This week there is news, of a sort. I have been given a document from the Public Protection Unit of the National Offender Management Service which informs me, among other things, that I have yet another parole hearing in June of next year, 2010. I am told that the timing will enable me to:

• Be assessed for CALM (Controlling Anger and Learning to Manage it)
• Be assessed by a psychologist

Ah - therein lies the rub! Considering that I have now been here two months, after a very unseemly transfer from Whitemoor, it seems a bit curious to me that the psychology people here at Long Lartin are conspicuous by their absence. There is a long queue of fellows waiting to be assessed by these bright school leavers - sorry, trainee psychologists.

If (that wonderful word so revered by Rudyard Kipling and a big favourite of children building castles in the air), if they assess me and find me unsuitable, what happens then?

I fully intend to discuss these assessment tools with those administering them, if / when I see them. The various tools would appear to be not exactly devised for what they are being used for, but that is by the way. I intend to qualify, in discussion, exactly what they are assessing me for and quite what tools they are using and the validity of those tools.

Of course, that in itself will mark me as some kind of troublemaker - prisoners are forced to partake in an Enhanced Thinking Skills course, but God help them if they actually try to think. No, they are not teaching prisoners how to think, but WHAT to think. Let's not bother ourselves with that aspect however, let's just stick to the point.

Bugger it, let us mention 'thinking' after all - it is quite an important subject, according to the prison service.

Thinking, an abstract exercise of the mind.

We all think, some of us less coherently than others, and some of us downright insanely, but we all think. That's the problem really - we all think. The difficulty comes because most people miss the fact that we are all individuals and none of us think alike, yet we all make the mistake of thinking that we do. This is why a poor thinker gets upset when he has an idea that, to his way of thinking, is perfectly operational, and then a far superior thinker spots the flaws and shoots the idea down in flames. At the other end of the spectrum we have the good thinker who is explaining what is, to him, a perfectly simple concept and who gets annoyed when a nitwit can't grasp it.

What we should be doing is facing the fact that we all think differently. We shouldn't condemn people just because they don't think like us, or don't think the same things.

This is where the prison pervice and their trainee psychologists fall down. They think they know best - and perhaps they do, but that has to be tested. I suspect it may not be quite as they think and that they do not have any answers, certainly not in the tick-box culture. The tick-box culture and thinking are diametrically opposed really - one does not encourage the other.

Anyway, I have a provisional parole hearing in June of next year - I just thought you would like to know that.

The Voice In The Wilderness

Friendly lions or mad dogs?

This week has brought one snippet of interesting intelligence: according to Mike Pemberton, my legal superstar, the hearing of the Ministry of Justice's appeal against the recent Judicial Review is pencilled in for June 24th 2009 in the High Court. At that time, the Secretary of State's minion will attempt to put up a case that treating prisoners in a decent and acceptable manner is constitutionally unsafe and unsound. Good luck to him.

Here at the prison, meanwhile, we have a great deal of upheaval because they have built a new wing, at great expense, which was finally opened on Monday May 18th. Most of the prison was uprooted and disturbed, for no good reason really. I was quite fortunate in that it did not involve me, although I did move to a different cell on my own wing, a much better and more comfortable cell than the one I had occupied previously.

However, all of this moving about and general upheaval does not contribute to the quality of life or encourage prisoners to settle down and get on with their unfortunate existences. What the Powers-That-Be fail to understand is that most prisoners quite simply don't care whether they live in a dustbin or a palace - all they really want is to be left in peace to get on with things. It's quite unsettling not knowing where you will be from one day to the next, always expecting to hear the size twelve issue boots stamping outside the door and being told to 'Move or else!' Oh yes, they are very nice about it. Speaking for myself, they could put me in a tent in the middle of a field, I'd be all right. All I need from the system is for it to bugger off and leave me alone!

I wonder if there is a deliberate policy to keep cons on a knife edge. It is the sort of insanity that they WOULD think is a good idea - let's face it, Einstein has nothing to fear in the thinking stakes from some of those who run our prisons.

They run an Enhanced Thinking Skills course in prisons - it is laughable. What they do is supply the con with a dozen scenarios and at the same time supply the answers or solutions to the problems posed. The prisoner then goes away and learns the answers by rote and when he has done that he gets a tick in a box and a certificate. He is now deemed to possess enhanced thinking skills! What cobblers!

However, be that as it may, what I want to know is why there can't be a course to teach enhanced humanity skills to the people in charge of the prisons? Forget enhanced thinking, that is out of the question, that advanced stuff. No, they will simply carry on coming up with ridiculous schemes and ideas which serve no other purpose than to agitate and irritate. Then they wonder why the prisons do not operate smoothly!

There is an old saying, which I can attribute to nobody - it is certainly not mine, although I have used it several times over the years. The prison service could do a lot worse than pay heed to it:

It is easier dealing with a friendly lion than with a mad dog!

The Voice In The Wilderness

Doing the right thing

This week saw the arrival into my grubby little hands, direct from my solicitor, of the document which the Treasury Solicitor has submitted to the Appeal Court on behalf of the Home Secretary and which gives the reasons why the Home Secretary should be allowed to appeal against HHJ Jarman's recent Judicial Review. The main reason advanced seems to be that to grant me a victory would create a constitutional crisis and encourage others to ask the court to do the right thing!

I've got a couple of things to say about that.

Firstly, this country has no constitution, never has had. The nearest we have ever been to one is Magna Carta, signed by King John in 1215 in Runnymeade Meadow. However, even that was not a constitution. It was merely the Barons (and those who commanded large gangs of cutthroats) wanting to keep their pillaged loot and not be put on trial for stealing it in the first place - much like our present bunch of bandits, generally referred to as the House of Commons.

So, we have never had a constitution and for those who keep referring to things as though we do have one, well, that is sheer humbug and gammon to confuse the ordinary man into thinking he has rights. He doesn't.

If he did, then so many of the poor things which go on in this wonderful sceptred isle would not be tolerated - and aren't in countries where they do have a constitution.

Secondly, how can the Treasury Solicitor object to the fact that my victory over the Hosts of Error would bring about the practical downfall of the system? If that's the case, then it is a reflection on the inhumane system, not on me!

It merely demonstrates the fact that the system being operated is unfair and unjust and that it is imperative that it be corrected as soon as possible.

William Garrison said:

I am in earnest - I will not equivocate - I will not excuse - I will not retreat a single inch - and I will be heard!

Lord Hewart (1870 - 1943) said in a judgement in Rex v Sussex Justices, 9th November 1923 (Kings Bench Reports, 1924, Vol. i, p. 259):

It is not merely of some importance but it is of fundamental importance that justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.

Then of course we have Magna Carta itself:

To no man will we sell, or deny, or delay, right to justice.

Then let us not forget Lord Milner, that staunch devotee of justice, as fine a man who ever donned a black cap. He said:

If we believe a thing to be bad, and if we have a right to prevent it, it is our duty to prevent it and damn the consequences.

Now, I could go on all day quoting these eminent figures from the past, who all said the same thing really:

Do the right thing! As long as a man goes about doing what he knows in his very soul is the right thing, then he will not go far wrong.

That last one is my own of course. But if a man should do what he absolutely knows is the wrong thing, for the sake of expediency or some other reason, then he must learn to live with himself and hope that one day he will be forgiven. Unfortunately, that won't help the people whose lives have been ruined by his acts.

Perhaps the Treasury Solicitor should consider Parliament? He'd fit in there all right.

The Voice in the Wilderness

Creating a pen and ink

There is a shortage of news this week, and nobody to blame but the Mills of Justice - they grind exceeding slow, as the Bible would put it. Consequently I have to think of something else to write about. It's very odd, but I seem able to sit down at my sophisticated machine, invented in the 19th century by someone who couldn't write very clearly, and simply produce a lot of waffle at the drop of an aitch. Perhaps it is the Irish in me, the gift of the gab, so to speak.

This leads me quite conveniently to something which I feel needs commenting on - writing. I use a fountain pen as my preferred weapon of mass production and the preference stems from my callow youth when, as a schoolboy, I had a gift of a fountain pen from an aunt who thought it might encourage me to write her a letter every Christmas. I don't recall if I did but I think it improved my handwriting because, for some reason, the use of a fountain pen has that effect - it encourages care.

So, I use a fountain pen, and of course this means that I have to keep it filled with writing ink - bottled or cartridge, either will suffice. Have you ever tried buying writing ink? It's not as easy as it would seem, not in Long Lartin anyway. We are allowed to buy it, no doubt about that, it is listed on the document of items prisoners can purchase and have. There it is, bold as brass - ink for fountain pens.

Try to buy some.

I applied weeks ago to buy ink and the answer I got back was that they would need the name of the pen and any other information I had to enable them to get the right ink. I duly informed them that the pen is a Messenger and either cartridges or bottled ink would be fine - blue or black, either would do.

They wrote back that they did not have a supplier and had I tried the prison shop/canteen.

Of course I had! They said that they do not sell ink.

The answer to that was, did I have the name and address of a supplier?

Of course I have - CPL Computer and Office Supplies of Blandford in Dorset.

The answer came back - sorry, you can't order from there, they are not an approved supplier. Why don't you ask the governor if you can have it sent in from outside?

So, that is the position at the minute - I can have ink but I am most definitely NOT ALLOWED to have it. I can order it but not from anyone they deal with and certainly not from a perfectly legitimate supplier - because they are not approved!

What do I do next?

This is the sort of obstacle put before prisoners all the time. I don't want to seem unkind, but I don't see how anyone can consider my problem as anything but the most simple and easy to resolve, yet the difficulty created is astounding.

If they cannot sort out a small problem like ink for a pen, what chance is there of them getting something complex and difficult right? Not much.

Lord Salisbury said:

No lesson seems to be so deeply inculcated by the experience of life as that you should never trust experts. If you believe the doctors, nothing is wholesome; if you believe the theologians, nothing is innocent; if you believe the soldiers, nothing is safe.

and I would like to add:

If you believe the prison service, you need counselling.

The Voice in the Wilderness

The more I see of men...

The actual news this week is minimal, hardly worth the mention really. The only thing of any note is the fact that I had an actual reply from the Big Boss here to the letter I sent him a couple or three weeks ago - the letter about my move here and how it seemed to be contrary to the spirit and purpose of the recent Judicial Review decision. The reply seemed a little ignorant, slightly patronising and a good deal threatening. Clearly he took the fact that I had been successful in the High Court as some form of personal attack on him. Well, I can only apologise to the ether if that is the case - I do not intend to do so to him. He needs to learn what abstract thinking is. But at least his strange letter gave me something to grin at.

Nothing else happened this week apart from recording the fact that already I am being asked for advice by one or two residents on various subjects from 'Nobody loves me' to 'How do I go about a Judicial Review?'

Well, the simple answer is, I don't have the answers. If I had the answers to life, the universe and everything I would not have heen sitting in durance vile for the last twenty-three years plus. I know nuffink!

One question came up, however, which I will mention - let's face it, there's nothing else to write about this week - and it is a question that has cropped up many times in recent years. The other morning when we were all unlocked for breakfast I went out to get hot water for tea. I had been listening to music prior to being unlocked and had a tune in my head which I was humming under my breath. At the tea urn another fellow, as miserable a specimen as ever graced a Crown Court Dock, mumbled something about he had no idea how I could be so cheerful all the time.

What makes him think I should be miserable? I don't like my current position in life but I make the best of it. I take whatever small simple pleasures I can from each day and I find it easier to grin than to cry. I've tried miserable and I've tried cheerful - cheerful is better.

However - and with me there is always an "However" - however, there is something I would like to say about my time and how I view prison life, namely that I find it quite a chore at times to come out of my kennel and be cheerful and hail-fellow-well-met because, to be blunt, I am sick of the sight of men, I'm sick of the sound of men and I am sick of the smells. Oh to live in a world completely populated by the female of the species! Let's face it, it's not as if the male is actually necessary anymore, what with artificial insemination and everything else. In fact, the only reason women need men is because they don't have to change the batteries and to buy them free drinks.

I think it was Madame Roland who said:

The more I see of men, the better I like dogs.

The Voice In The Wilderness

The Oracles of Whitemoor

We waited patiently for the answer from the parole board to my application to be either released or sent to open prison. Well, it finally arrived on Thursday 26th March and at first glance hardly seemed to be worth the wait because there is nothing there for me. After all of these years, all I have been through and done - nothing! The obsession seems to be with acquiring the right ticks in the right boxes to allow those who oversee such things to say, "See! He is rehabilitated! He has got the ticks which say so!"

Ticks in boxes mean nothing and could in fact give a completely false picture. All they prove is that the subject / prisoner has learned by rote all the correct responses to give, much like Pavlov's dog really. Actually understanding is another matter. I mantain that I did myself far more good with just one of my degrees than a thousand courses could ever hope to do.

I had to study hard, reconfigure my whole thinking processes and my values and came out of it all at graduation a better person. (In fact I did three degrees - and, thank you, I've heard all the jokes about the old girl band, The Three Degrees, but if you can't resist the urge to crack another one, feel free.) There are one or two areas where it seems that my words were either misunderstood or, more probably, misheard. But I see no percentage in trying to set the record straight in every particular - that would take on the aspect of nit-picking.

However, there seems to be a very subtle attempt to actually accord me a certain amount of help in another direction. I think that they deliberately delayed the answer to the application not out of any form of discourtesy but because they wished to ensure that their report could not be used against me in an entirely separate matter - namely the Judicial Review, which was heard on the day the parole response was issued.

Someone said to me yesterday (Friday 27th March) that all of the years of study, (I'm still studying in fact) were really a complete waste of time and that I would have been better to have continued in my disruptive campaign because then they would have taken me off the Category 'A' and moved me on just to get rid of me and I would be free now. It is a point of view, of course, and I can see how the perception can be just that. However, I don't agree. I didn't do what I did because I thought that it would impress anyone, or that the Parole Board would be influenced or so that I could demand to be called 'Doctor'. No, I did it all for the simple reason that I needed to change and I wanted to change.

I did it all for myself, selfish fellow that I am. And I am still doing it for myself. The more I read, the more I learn and the more I realise that I have a lot to learn in the future. Having said that, I'll learn nothing from a simplistic course being administered by some youngster who, to me, hardly seems old enough to be out of school. But we mustn't allow rancour or malice to creep in, that would never do - and would make a mess of the tick boxes.

So, the Parole Report/Response is back and it is there for all to read. Feel free to complain - their address is on top of it.

Finally, let me just say that the very fact of my (relatively!) balanced and unemotional acceptance of the refusal is perfect proof of my new non-confrontational attitude to life. I haven't even told anyone else about it yet, let alone created any sort of fuss.

Mind, even that could be misinterpreted by the youngsters who are training to he psychologists - the Oracles of Whitemoor.

The Voice In The Wilderness

My complicated life

On Tuesday of last week (24th March in fact), I sent out my normal weekly package of documents to Andrew for him to sift through and either use or file, whatever he decides is best. As usual I sent, as part of this package, pages from my document, 'An Abuse of Justice', which I have been sending out a chapter or section at a time for quite some time. How long can best be seen by pointing out that I have already sent out over 800 pages exactly like this one, typed and spaced the same. Let us say that there are roughly, on average, 500 words per page, that is a total in excess of 400,000 words. That's a lot of words - I didn't know that I knew that many. So, I put the package in the post and asked that it be sent by Recorded Delivery as I do every week.

It came back on Thursday 26th March with a bit of paper telling me that my mail had been stopped. This paper is neither signed nor dated but purports to come from a Governor Juden, though I don't think he knows anything at all about it. He can't, otherwise he would know that Legal Mail cannot be meddled with whether the censor likes the contents or not.

I think I'd better. at this juncture, say a few words about 'An Abuse of Justice'. Of course it is the title of my campaign, that's the first thing. Secondly, I am fed up with the prison service saying that there is no evidence of change in me as a person despite twenty-three years in prison and everything else that has happened. So, to counter this, and after discussing it with a very dear friend whose advice I cherished, I set about to write the full story of my arrest, trial, early struggle in jail, my change to education and the further changes in recent years - which have seen me become almost a Saint!

The plan was to get it all done (all taken, incidentally, from diaries which I have kept every day of that twenty-three years plus), have it edited, to remove any pointless waffle and other matter which is of little value to the object, and then to present it as the best proof of change imaginable. As I say, I have now reached almost 900 pages and all of the story concerning the bad stuff is done and sent out of the prison. The whole thing has become so long that I have found it necessary to split it into separate parts of 400 pages each. The story and evidence of all the bad things is done and gone. I am now writing about my educational period in what has become Part III of 'An Abuse of Justice'.

This aim makes it, in my view, a legal document - it is intended to provide the evidence of the changes in me that the Prison Service says it needs in order to progress me. I have to say that I do not blame the governor, who is named but who hasn't put his pen to the note - in fact nobody has put a pen to it or even bothered to date it. I'm sure that really it is all a bit of a misunderstanding and that it will sort itself out. Perhaps the fellow who did it has misunderstood the rule or whatever it may be that he sees as a reason for his action.

Why is my life so complicated all the time? I think it was Henry Thoreau who said:

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.

The Voice In The Wilderness

The language of duty

On Thursday 12th March I appeared before the Parole Board here in the chapel of Whitemoor prison. The report of the actual proceedings is in the previous blog entry - here are my own impressions and observations.

Various people attended and gave evidence on behalf of various departments within the jail. I don't think I need to say much about any of them because not a great deal was said that I could take exception to by anyone other than the representative of the Secretary of State, who seemed very reluctant to concede anything in my favour, a fact noted on several occasions by the Chair of the panel. Even then he had to admit things which were to my credit.

One particular matter that arose, and the one I wish to address here, came about in connection with courses run within the prison. I have been assessed (after a long time) as being 'unsuitable' for the Enhanced Thinking Skills course (E.T.S.). I spoke up at that point and said that the prison seemed to be intent on using negatives rather than positives. The phrase 'found to be unsuitable' gives the impression that there is something wrong with me when the fact is that I have been found not to need any E.T.S. - in which case the phrase used should be, 'Does not require Enhanced Thinking Skills courses', rather than 'found to be unsuitable'.

This is not me simply splitting hairs, even if Shakespeare DID say that a rose by any other name is still a rose. That is not the point here. The point is that deliberately misleading words are used to give a negative effect - ‘argumentative’ rather than ‘questioning', ‘aggressive’ rather than ‘forceful’, ‘pushy' rather than ‘self-assured’, ‘arrogant’ rather than ‘confident’ and so on. My point is that reports can say exactly the same thing without the emotive language and the stress on the negative.

I did like the opinion given by Joanne Wallace, who said she could see no reason why I could not be in open conditions if not actually released. She said any course I may need could be just as easily managed in the community and that my actual risk levels, the levels used to decide any level of supervision I would need, were the lowest possible. In effect, and not wishing to put words into her mouth, she seemed to want me released.

Finally, I would like to thank both her and everyone involved, particularly my barrister Abigail Smith, because as far as I could tell the whole thing was favourable. The Chair seemed a very fair and astute person and everyone seemed to want to give me a fair hearing, apart from the representative of the Secretary of State of course.

On reflection, I suppose he would say that it was his job, he was simply doing his duty. On several occasions he could not answer the questions being put to him, but he did what he could
to give me a bad name, bless him. All he did was his duty, but I could see that even he had difficulty with some of the things he had to say. Which, as we all know by now, automatically brings me to my normal end-quote. In fact, we will have two this week, the first from John Locke who said:

It is one thing to show a man that he is in error, and another to put him in possession of truth.

Finally, and may the representative of the Secretary of State take this in the spirit it is offered, a quote from George Bernard Shaw seems appropriate. He said:

When a man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty.

The Voice in the Wilderness

Report on the Third Mandatory Lifer Panel oral hearing, Thursday March 12th 2009

Present in addition to the Panel (which included Chairwoman, Psychologist and Independent member) were the following:
Franklyn Wilkinson
Abigail Smith LIP, representing Franklyn Wilkinson
Officer Steve Wright, representing the Secretary of State
Joanne Wallace, Northumbria Probation Service
Jamie Calico, Whitemoor Psychology Department
Paul Marson, Personal Officer of Franklyn Wilkinson

The hearing began with introductions and a discussion between the Chair and Ms Smith of a procedural nature.

Ms Smith began the proceedings generally by pointing out to the panel that Wilkinson had not been involved in any acts of violence since 1993 and had never used a weapon, nor had he been on any discipline report since 2001.

The Chair then called Officer Steve Wright and questioned him on several aspects of the matter in hand. He reported that the official stance was that Wilkinson should remain as Category A. He could give no reason for this and the Chair was fully aware of the Judicial Review on the subject scheduled for March 24th in the High Court. Officer Wright conceded that the adjudication record was excellent and had nothing bad to say regarding Wilkinson. When asked about assessments for courses, Officer Wright admitted that none had been carried out. He explained that the CSCP course, which it has been recommended that Wilkinson be assessed for, runs in Long Lartin, Swaleside and Gartree but that there were long waiting lists and limited places. He finally conceded that Wilkinson might be unsuitable anyway.

Wilkinson pointed out that 'unsuitable' was the wrong word to use here in that it gave the impression that there was something wrong with him that made him unsuitable when a more accurate phrase would be that the courses are unnecessary. The Panel agreed that negative language was used by the prison service when the same thing could be expressed positively.

Officer Wright agreed that courses and assessments could just as easily be done in lower category conditions. When asked if he agreed with the assessments of others who judged that Wilkinson's risk levels had gone down, Officer Wright could not answer but agreed that there had been no increase in risk levels. It was suggested that the last two years could mean a further reduction in risk levels because of the adjudication-free period and other aspects of Wilkinson's behaviour but Wright simply refused to agree although he could give no justification for his disagreement.

Paul Marson stated that Wilkinson got along with everybody and anybody. The Chair seemed fully aware of the website and asked Paul Marson ahout Wilkinson's access to the internet. Marson informed the Chair that the website was conducted by someone in the community and that Wilkinson had no access at all. Marson said that Wilkinson showed advanced thinking and was a calming influence on other, younger prisoners and often calmed situations down, the latest incident being the previous week when a younger inmate had become excited and aggressive. Wilkinson had come out of his cell, spoken to the inmate for a few minutes and the inmate had calmed down and returned to his cell. Marson said that Wilkinson gave advice to the younger prisoners. He seemed to be of the opinion that Wilkinson should be downgraded and sent to a much less secure establishment.

Joanne Wallace discussed various aspects, the most telling being that she considered that Wilkinson's risk levels could be managed in the community and would be happy to see Wilkinson moved to open conditions or released. Wilkinson's management requirement level would be the lowest, in her opinion. When asked if Wilkinson might run off if put into open conditions, Wallace said, 'No', explaining that there was no evidence of impulsive behaviour, drunkenness or substance misuse of any sort and that Wilkinson had done enough courses. Wallace stated that Wilkinson could be released and then take part in courses in the community and that risk levels must have been reduced, as demonstrated clearly by Wilkinson's behaviour. Finally, Wallace stated that it was very unlikely that Wilkinson would return to any form of criminal life-style.
Officer Wright asked Wallace about offending behaviour courses and Wallace was adamant in stating that Wilkinson had done suffic­ient but could always be assessed for further work.

Jamie Calico offered very little of any value. She admitted that she had never met Wilkinson nor spoken to him and knew nothing other than what was in the reports she had read. She insisted that Wilkinson had been offered assessments in 2007 but admitted that she had no proof of that fact and that the Psychology Department had made no attempt to engage Wilkinson since that time. When pressed on the matter, she admitted that the department had been busy and explained that there were other, more important things to do. She then stated that the courses already completed by Wilkinson were sufficient but said that she had concerns about him. Calico then admitted that Wilkinson had been offered nothing for over two years.

The Chair then discussed with Abigail Smith the forthcoming Judicial Review and the application before the CCRC. It was not made clear how the panel were aware of these matters.

The panel then took turns to question Wilkinson on various topics including courses, criminal associates and lifestyle, future prospects, education and aspirations. Wilkinson gave a good account of himself and the hearing drew to an end.

Afterwards Abigail Smith was satisfied that Wilkinson had done extremely well and had come across as entirely honest to the panel.

The panel will issue its report within the coming week or so.

March winds

Today it is March 1st, although that won't be the case by the time anyone reads this, so let's just say instead that it is March. March, when, according to legend, the winds blow strongly and, if you are silly enough to listen to the weather forecasters, we are due to have a mild one after our severe ten day winter.

March is turning into a month of significance in my life. On 9th March I will have been in durance vile for exactly 23 years, and that's a long time. I know I say that a good deal, but that doesn't alter the fact - it IS a long time.

Then, on 12th March, I have the Parole Board hearing here in the prison. No doubt I will be subject to a lot of questions and this is despite the fact that there is ahsolutely NO chance that they will even consider allowing me any sort of progression. That simply is not going to happen. They know it, I know it and even the pigeons in Trafalgar Square know it - or they would if they cared at all (and they don't).

I will appear before the Board with my barrister doing his very best to fight a losing battle, and at the end of it he will be reduced to serving me with a few platitudes to try to keep HIS spirits up - mine joined the submarine service years ago. I will have spent a considerable time answering questions, a lot of which will be quite unanswerable really. They will harp on about the past, not the future. Of course I will jerrymander and they will see it as a sign that I am being secretive.

Of course I'm being secretive, I have no choice in the matter. Although I am fully entitled to discuss myself and my own deeds, I have no right whatsoever to discuss the deeds of others, and that effectively means that I have to seem to be shifty, or worse. It is not so much a case of being unable to answer through lack of ability, more a case of protecting the guilty, because this country, in its wisdom, has no statute of limitations and never forgives anyone anything. Like Shylock, they WILL have their pound of flesh.

I think it was Charles Colton who said:

Examinations are formidable even to the best prepared, for the greatest fool may ask more than the wisest man can answer.

The Board will harp on about the past and nothing can he done about that. It is done, over. All we can do is regret it, we cannot change it. Not even God can change the past. All we humans can do is work for the future and ensure that we do not repeat the mistakes of tne past.

Then, when the ordeal is over and they, the panel members, go off to their ivory towers, I shall return to my humble abode, courtesy of Lizzie Windsor, and contemplate the matter.

Does it end there? Not likely, because twelve days later I have my Judicial Review in the High Court.

So, March is turning into a milestone month for me, one way or another.

In all of this I will be condemned for the indiscretions and poor choices I made as a callow youth, in "My salad days, when I was green in judgement."

This brings me to another snippet of borrowed wisdom. This time I take it from George Bernard Shaw who died in 1950. He said:

Youth, which is forgiven everything, forgives itself nothing: age, which forgives itself anything, is forgiven nothing.

"Besides," he added, "every man over forty is a scoundrel."

The Voice In The Wilderness

A tick in a box

There is no news this week. Nothing appears to have taken place that is worth remarking on. To put it in the jargon of the technological, robotic age, I have had very little "input" this week. (I've seen "Short Circuit" too!) But that is only as far as I know personally: who knows what is going on elsewhere to which I am not privvy! Consequently, I am back to my homespun philosophy and my personal observations, most of which seem to me fairly self-evident at best, and downright boring generally.

I woke up very early this morning and got up right away. I have discovered over the years that if I lie in bed, awake and thinking, sooner or later I may get to brooding. I used to do a great deal of that in the old days. Brooding on the ills done to me, either real or perceived, the end results were always the same - I grew resentful. I should think that every prisoner indulges in this from time to time. I don't do it these days. If I wake early I get up and get on with something, reading or writing or simply listening to or watching the news. There is always something better to do than brooding. Having said that, I have to point out that brooding and thinking about things are two different horses.

Anyway,this morning I was thinking (not brooding) about the insistence - dogged, unreasoned insistence in fact - that prisoners should, right across the board and regardless of the individual, partake in courses which, to be quite frank, are fairly puerile. For a long time, and despite the fact that I was involved in the creation of the Enhanced Thinking Skills course, the prison system was insistent that I needed to complete such a course. It took a long time before it was finally admitted that I had no need of it, and even then it is not straightforwardly admitted in such terms. Instead, I am considered "unsuitable", which could give the uninitiated the impression that there is something so seriously wrong with my thinking that the course would be useless to me. They can't just say, "This man's thinking is far superior to anything we are attempting to impart." That would be fair, and the idiots who tick the boxes don't do fair!

It's the same with their choice of words in all things. When a con is asked to take part in something that is entirely voluntary and the con says, 'No thank you', that con is marked down as having refused, thus giving the wrong impression. The word that should be used is, declined.

The latest attempt to drag my personal progress backwards is the strange desire to get me to take part in a CALM course - Controlling Anger and Learning to Manage it. The fact that I am routinely reported as being one of the calmest characters around the place is ignored. Let's face it, they need the tick in the box. But if I get any calmer then they will be able to nail down the coffin lid because I'll be shuffling off this mortal coil, I will be handing in my dinner pail, no longer needing the bib and tucker, the membership in the life club will be cancelled - I will be dead!

Of course the prison service and the idea-less people in charge say that courses are for the good of the prisoner, but unfortunately they cannot seem to understand that one size does not fit all.

"It's for your own good!" they cry.

Really?

It brings to mind the words of Leo Tolstoy:

I sit on a man's back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means - except by getting off his back.

The Voice In The Wilderness