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During association I phone my agent, Jonathan Lloyd. He goes over the details of tomorrow’s announcement of the publication of volume one of these diaries. I congratulate him on how well the secret has been kept. Not one newspaper has picked up that A Prison Diary by FF8282 will be published tomorrow. This is quite an achievement remembering that at least twenty people must have known at Macmillan and ten or more at the Daily Mail.
DAY 444
SATURDAY 5 OCTOBER 2002
5.52 am
This is my tenth day of incarceration at Lincoln.
6.01 am
The publication of A Prison Diary Volume One – Belmarsh: Hell, is the lead item on the news. The facts are fairly reported. No one seems to think that the Home Office will try to prevent the publication. However, the director-general is checking to see if I have broken any prison rules. Mr Narey is particularly exercised by the mention of other prisoners’ names. I have only referred to prisoners’ surnames when they are major characters in the diary, and only then when their permission has been granted.43
A representative of the Prison Officers’ Association said on the Today programme that as I hid in my room all day, I wouldn’t have anything worthwhile to say about prisons. Perhaps it might have been wiser for him to open his mouth after he’s read the book, when he would have discovered how well his colleagues come out of my experience.
7.32 am
My cell door is unlocked so I can be transferred from A to J wing. This is considered a privilege for that select group who work in the kitchen. The cells are a lot cleaner, and also have televisions. My new companion is a grown-up non-smoker called Stephen (age thirty-nine), who is number one in the kitchen.
Stephen is serving a seven-year sentence for smuggling one and a half tons of cannabis into Britain. He is an intelligent man, who runs both the wing and the kitchen with a combination of charm and example.
8.00 am
A group of fourteen prisoners is escorted to the kitchens. Only two of the five who reported for drugs testing yesterday evening are still in the group.
I am put to work in the vegetable room to assist a young twenty-three-year-old called Lee, who is so good at his job – chopping potatoes, slicing onions, grating cheese and mashing swedes – that I become his incompetent assistant. My lack of expertise doesn’t seem to worry him.
The officer in charge of the kitchen, Mr Tasker, turns out to be one of the most decent and professional men I have dealt with since being incarcerated. His kitchen is like Singapore airport: you could eat off the floor. He goes to great pains to point out to me that he only has £1.27 per prisoner to deliver three meals a day. In the circumstances, what he and his staff manage to achieve is nothing less than a miracle.
DAY 445
SUNDAY 6 OCTOBER 2002
11.14 am
On this, my eleventh day, I have a second visit from Mr Spurr and his colleague Ms Stamp.
They say they wish to tidy up a few minor points. I’m impressed by Mr Spurr’s grasp of what’s going on at North Sea Camp, and once again he gives the impression of being concerned.
He leaves promising that he will be able to tell me the outcome of his enquiry on Friday.
DAY 450
FRIDAY 11 OCTOBER 2002
7.30 am
A particularly officious, ill-mannered officer unlocks my cell door and thrusts some papers at me. He tells me with considerable pleasure that I will be on a charge at 4 o’clock this afternoon.
I read the papers several times. I don’t have a lot more to do. It seems that by publishing A Prison Diary I have broken prison Rule 51 Para 23, in ‘naming staff such that they could be identified’, contrary to SO 5 Para 34 (9) (d).
8.10 am
On leaving my cell to go to work in the kitchen, I am surprised to find Mr Spurr and Ms Stamp awaiting me. I am escorted into a side room. Mr Spurr tells me that he has completed his enquiry, and I will be transferred to Hollesley Bay (D-cat) some time next week. Do you recall Governor Lewis’s words, ‘Whatever you do, don’t end up in Hollesley Bay …’?
10.30 am
I take a break from peeling the spuds, not that I can pretend to have done that many. I notice that Mr Tasker is sitting in his office reading the Daily Mail. He beckons me in, and tells me to close the door.
