Taking Liberties

After what seemed like an age I was taken back to be photographed and have fingerprints taken, more forms and files, more time standing about in silence as I was being integrated into the system. The next stage of my induction was particularly humiliating. An officer called Frank, who had an American style buzz haircut said matter of factly, "Take all your clothes off and place them in the bag provided."

With a bit of reluctance I disrobed with him watching, it was a bit unsettling, I had never undressed in front of a bloke who constantly stared at me. "Underpants as well, in the bag," he politely requested. They were Christmas ones with a santa on them, I actuallt felt my face redden.

I hoped he wouldn't laugh at my penis, in my defence, it was a bit cold in the room and I was nervous. I stood there folding and unfolding my arms and suddenly found the floor interesting. A cursory examination followed even down to him shining a torch on my privates to see if there was any infection or lice, I thought that type of routine ended with bloody conscription!

I was pronounced  'clean', told to shower, then put on the prison uniform, which was a fetching brown number that was too long in the sleeves and too short in the legs, it certainly wasn't the 'alta moda'.

The thing that really hit me hard was when I was given my new prison number '167004'. I'm now officially a persona non grata, just a number, welcome to Thornhill, your former life has now officially ended. Frank briefed me as I was led to my new residence. The door was unlocked and he introduced me to my new cell mate who didn't look particularly pleased to see me, I was made about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit.

The size of the cell dismayed me considerably, but what was worse was the odious smell emanating from it, it was a combination of sweat, bleach and excrement, the odoriferous concoction was physically palpable.

The cell was probably not more than fifteen feet by twelve, with a small barred window that offered delightful views onto the bin area,- an estate agent would cheerfully describe it as, 'compact and bejeu' with a positive aspect. It consisted of two grey metal beds, one on each side of the room, with a hand basin and a large plastic pot with a cover over it, presumably it was to be used for crapping into, - dignity was preserved by a pull around curtain which was frayed and had a large hole in it.