The Scary Fun of Prison (Part 3 by Guest Blogger Andrew Donegan)

Andrew Donegan's blog is Wheel of Life at piebald77.blogspot.com

MY DAD, Jacob Michael, who won weightlifting contests in Weyland and Weymott, was in Armley, Leeds, 1982, when Peter Sutcliffe, a.k.a the ‘Yorkshire Ripper’ was brought in. My dad took a bet that the frail figure sat on the edge of his bed could never be one of the most feared killers in recent history. Viewed through the crack of a cell door, it was indeed Sutcliffe, and my dad lost the bet. At around the same time, there was news coverage of a poor old woman in her eighties who had been beaten black and blue to within an inch of her life. My dad and several others were reduced to tears by this sad and shocking story. He was just wiping his eyes when they brought in the man responsible. Back then it was the norm for one inmate to go from cell to cell asking if prisoners wanted tea or water. My dad had this position, and although the granny-basher asked for water, what he got was a face-load of boiling hot tea. My dad’s defence was that he ‘put the bucket down and the guy fell in it’. From then on the screws treated my old man a lot better.

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Shaun Attwood