The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.combadminton, five-a-side soccer or soft-ball tennis. There was also aConcept-II rowing machine and I embarked on a manic fitness program,alternating 5,000m and 10,000m per session - and 20km on Sunday if wegot double-gym. Whittling down my times was the best antidote to myotherwise futile and pointless existence in prison.We were allowed to buy a daily newspaper and a couple of magazines aweek, using private money deposited with reception who ordered thepapers in bulk from a nearby newsagent. Only pornography and gunmagazines were banned. The eagerly awaited paper delivery arrived justafter lunch and then there was an impromptu flea market in the dinnerqueue to trade them. These papers, together with the small radiopermitted in my cell, enabled me to follow events outside prison. Myarrest was extensively reported and there were smaller follow-upfeatures about my bail refusal. The press had become much less criticalonce the hostility whipped up by I/OPS in the aftermath of my arresthad abated and truth about my minor offence had surfaced. The reportsbecame more sympathetic every time bail was refused.`Hey Rich, I'm more famous than you now!' Onion-head, a cheerfulLiverpudlian with a ruddy face and a Tin Tin quiff of blond hair waveda tabloid newspaper at me one morning. `They've even published me mugshot and number, just like Hugh Grant except better looking, eh!' heexclaimed, kissing his own image. It was considered prestigious to getinto the papers and Onion-head proudly showed me an article abouthimself. He was one of a gang who had carried out a series of armedraids against the homes of wealthy home counties families, robbing themat gunpoint. They had just been sentenced the day before, afterspending a year on remand. The Mirror published a full double-pagespread, which was the source of Onion-head's pride.`What did you get then?' I asked.`Sixteen years,' he cheerfully replied, licking the edge of a roll-up.`Flippin' judge just used his lottery numbers, the bastard. Steve got25, Neil got 19, Owen 22,' he added. `Still, looking on the brightside, keep me head down and me lighthouse nicely buffed-up, get paroleand there'll only be 418 episodes of Top of the Pops before I'm a freeman,' Onion-head laughed as he lit his roll-up. His flippant optimismcheered me up; my maximum sentence of two years seemed trivial incomparison.One morning in November, 8.30 a.m. came and went without the usualsound of clanking keys and opening doors. As the minutes ticked by theprisoners registered their rising impatience by banging their metalbins against cell doors. `What's up?' I shouted to Dobson through thehole by the pipe.`Dunno, I'll find out and let you know.' He called through to hisneighbour and after a couple of minutes shouted back to me. `Someladdie on the other spur, Colligan, went and topped hissel' last night,daft cunt. Screws found him this morning.'`How did he manage that?' I asked. It wasn't easy to kill yourself inBelmarsh; there was nothing sharp to slash wrists, no unprotectedbalconies to jump off or ropes to hang from.page- 179 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com