from: CH8299@hmp.southampton.gov.uk
to: richardvhirst@acemail.com
sent: 28.10.11 at 1:10 pm
subject: Hi There!
Richard!
Hello!
You may be wondering who this is, what with the prison email address and what not. It's me, Martin! Or as I am currently known, prisoner CH8299 (I'm also known as 'Punchbag' but I'm not overly keen on this moniker to be honest). That's right, you've guessed it (apologies if you haven't, SPOILER AHEAD as they say on the superinternet)I'm in prison!
How long has it been Rich, eh? It's been 16 months, 16 months since I was last in touch. Sorry about that. Really. Sorry. I have been in here for a year now and someone only mentioned there were computers here yesterday. Not sure how long they'll let us have access to these actually, the guy beside me is becoming very agitated whilst watching the introduction to Super Ted over and over on YouTube. He's just thrown the mouse at a guard and called him "a stupid spotted banana".
Soooooo, yes, prison. How did that happen. I guess last time I wrote to you I was just beginning my time as a man of the sea, joining the scurvy (No really, actual scurvy. Three of them told me they were afraid of orange juice) crew of 'The Flimsy Floozy' and their fearsome Captain, Charles Bearspit. I wrote to you then from what I believed at the time to be somewhere near Spain. Turns out we were in fact going round in circles just outside Southampton which is apparently on the south coast of England! I had misjudged these salty seadogs, and quite badly. What I had originally seen in Captain Bearspit as charming eccentricity was actually plain old bog-standard insanity. I began to realise things weren't exactly 'ship shape' when one week he insisted on calling us all 'SHIRLEY VALENTINE, M'LADY LOVE' and the following week he kept us all up every night singing to his knees. "OHHH KNEES", he would wail, "OH NAUGHTY, HAUGHTY KNEES. OH PLEASE. OH WONT YOU FINISH YOUR PEEEEEEEEEEEEEAS". This would go on for hours. Sometimes he would accompany himself with the punctured accordion we had found floating beside the boat a few days before. It was incapable of holding a note and yet the Captain would gamely struggle on. The wheezing sounds that emanated from the stricken instrument brought to mind my uncle Patrick when he went through his phase of smoking charcoal. Do you remember that, Rich? How we'd laugh as time after time, he set his beard alight. Good times.
Anyway, yes, the rest of the crew weren't much better. One particular man, Gentleman George Dandry, (or "Gentle George" as he was sometimes referred to) attempted to stab me in the ear with a wooden spoon on no less than 15 different occasions. I've no idea why he took such a dislike to me, Rich, I can only surmise that he was NOT a fan of the game I-Spy. A game which had become very dear to me on the long dark sleepless nights in our quarters.
Things came to a head when we attempted to attack a boat full of tourists that we'd come across on our circular travels. Bearspit informed us that not only had we run out of food, but we had run out of stuff that vaguely resembled food and so the time had come for some piracy. He made it sound so casual. The crew armed themselves with the swords that Moonfaced Austin had made from discarded rope while I desperately racked my brains for a means of escape. We caught up with our prey as they headed in to port and, as the tourists happily snapped away with their cameras, Captain Bearspit and the crew of the Flimsy Floozy attempted to board the targeted vessel. One by one they jumped, missed the deck, and plunged into the sea. As the people on the sight-seeing cruise clapped and cheered, the captain of that boat made a call to shore and informed the coast guard. Within an hour, we were all picked up and taken to the nearest police station. When our day in court came, a series of thunderous outbursts from our brave leader (including "SEND US TO PRISON IF YOU MUST, BUT WE ARE ALL PIRATES AND WE WILL NEVER STOP PIRATING!") led to us being convicted of Attempted Piracy and we were each sentenced to 5 years detention in HMP Southampton.
As you can imagine, this was quite a bad development for me as I have always had a bit of a fear of prisons and everything that goes on within them. You may remember the evening we rented 'Ernest Goes To Jail' and you had to talk me down from the roof after the scene in which Ernest is shouted at by a guard. I can still see you pleading with me to see sense and come down, as I pelted you with unpopped microwave popcorn kernels. So the thought of spending more than 5 minutes in this concrete hellhole initially filled me with a terror so intense that when I curled up into a ball to console myself I became so completely rigid, my fellow convicts were able to play a 20 minute game of football with me before the guards intervened and rescued me. They were already ahead by four goals anyway and so saw no point in allowing the game to continue.
As it turns out, I'm actually quite good at prison. A year has passed, and despite a few run ins with some of the more impatient prisoners (you know how strongly I feel about people queue jumping) and a fairly major incident with several rival gangs (I am sadly now responsible for the card game Snap and specifically organised tournaments of said game being banned in all British prisons)I have had quite a peaceful time. My court appointed lawyer informs me that with good behaviour I shouldn't be in here for much longer, and I should be home for Christmas. I'm very excited. Christmas is great.
Anyway, I feel like I've waffled on enough. How are things with you? I do hope that you're alive and well, and that you are still using this email. I have been in here for a year after all, you might all be floating around in hover-cars out there for all I know! If you are please send me a photo of yours.
Your friend,
Martin
