Smuggling Your Own Accountancy Books OUT of Prison (it’s wrong apparently)


A little glimpse into prison life.  Mike due out on a Town Leave today.  I don’t know how many of these he’s had, 10, 15, more?  I dutifully waited in the designated car park for him and tried not to get annoyed that 5 minutes passed, then 10, then 15, oh look we’re heading towards a 25 minute wait, when he strode over.

Apparently he was stopped by an officer when booking out – it’s a prison, you book in, you book out, you book up and hey, you book down.  Says prison officer to Mike “what have you got in the bag” (see through HMP issue plastic).  “Books” says Mike.  “You can’t take books out” says prison officer. “But I’ve taken them out before, why can’t I take a book out with me”.  “It’s the rules, you can’t take books out.  I’ll have to check them”.  I think there were a massive amount of three books, all on the subject of accounting, which Mike is gradually bringing home.  “I’ll have to check them all” says prison officer “and that’ll delay everyone getting out”.  So Mike looks behind him, his fellow prisoner looks sympathetic and in no hurry, so Mike leans up against the wall and says “go on then, check them”. 

All the prison officer did was to flick through each book to check for…… well, that’s what we were discussing on the way home.  What exactly was he hoping to find?  A gun perhaps, that Mike had somehow managed to smuggle in and kept well hidden ready for his next town visit when, suddenly lacking imagination, he decides to just check it out past a prison officer?  Or maybe it was drugs that he had dropped in by carrier pigeon and had sat on them waiting for the price of “sniffy wiffy” to rise and make a killing on his next town leave?   Or maybe it was the dreaded SIM cards that are the fear of every prison officer…. maybe Mike had managed to stock pile the entire prison illegal supply and was going to ship them out en mass in order to top them all up at Car Phone Warehouse, and then try to smuggle them back in for major profits or extra sachets or porridge oats. 

What exactly would you try to smuggle OUT.  In I can understand.  But out?  It’s just another example of the pettiness of prison life, in what is, after all, supposed to be an “open” environment.   Roll on August and we can say with a smile on our faces “he’s out next month”.

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