Basically, there were two young Jamaicans doing the young male macho bullshit in the yard. They were going to fight for unknown reasons, and Simon, who was very large if white, walked into the circle, stood between them and told them to cut it out because we'd end up having to go inside and none of us wanted that. Suddenly, the Jamaicans who were about to fight had a common enemy: Simon.
Harmony in the rudebwai world, great, but not so much for Simon. He was lecherous because he ran a brothel and had some crazy pink rubber mini-skirted strumpet visit him. You were there, because I only saw her because she was visiting him, and if I saw her visiting him, then you were visiting me. He was lecherous because he boasted in a paradoxically quiet way about how he "helped" girls who "were confused" and "needed him". God knows.
No, we were able to continue ordering pinepples in tab-ring open cans. I also remember we could buy like sardines and other canned foods. The sardine lids were good for making knives which the Serbian war criminal I was sharing a cell with briefly used for making late night snacks. He would chop up the sardines or whatever and make some sort of salad. It passed the time, which is all you're really trying to do in jail. Jails' great for reading, so long as no one is threatening you.
As far as I recall, the can of pineapples ended up briefly in my possession, with a big dent in it in a way that's hard to dent that kind of cylinder. It wasn't just like a dent in the side. It was like it got stomped on on one side from the top sort of.
I can't remember if they took it from me for "evidence" or what. I don't think I got to eat them though.
We could buy them from the commissary, with the 2 quid and change the Queen gave us every week. She gave us just enough to buy a pack of Golden Virginia but not papers, and smoking was more important than pineapples. The papers thing though... that was so fucking annoying. I wish I still had a commissary form. I would scan it and put it on my blog.
You helped me get through that time. I wish I learned my lesson then, though. I'm a pretty retarded fuck.
Harmony in the rudebwai world, great, but not so much for Simon. He was lecherous because he ran a brothel and had some crazy pink rubber mini-skirted strumpet visit him. You were there, because I only saw her because she was visiting him, and if I saw her visiting him, then you were visiting me. He was lecherous because he boasted in a paradoxically quiet way about how he "helped" girls who "were confused" and "needed him". God knows.
No, we were able to continue ordering pinepples in tab-ring open cans. I also remember we could buy like sardines and other canned foods. The sardine lids were good for making knives which the Serbian war criminal I was sharing a cell with briefly used for making late night snacks. He would chop up the sardines or whatever and make some sort of salad. It passed the time, which is all you're really trying to do in jail. Jails' great for reading, so long as no one is threatening you.
As far as I recall, the can of pineapples ended up briefly in my possession, with a big dent in it in a way that's hard to dent that kind of cylinder. It wasn't just like a dent in the side. It was like it got stomped on on one side from the top sort of.
I can't remember if they took it from me for "evidence" or what. I don't think I got to eat them though.
We could buy them from the commissary, with the 2 quid and change the Queen gave us every week. She gave us just enough to buy a pack of Golden Virginia but not papers, and smoking was more important than pineapples. The papers thing though... that was so fucking annoying. I wish I still had a commissary form. I would scan it and put it on my blog.
You helped me get through that time. I wish I learned my lesson then, though. I'm a pretty retarded fuck.
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