Lunchtime lock up. An hour or so in which to sleep, watch TV, take a leisurely toilet break...our time, while the staff are away having their own meal.
I hear female voices down the wing. Women talking to prisoners through the locked door. Interesting. Normally, lunchtime is a period of dead silence. They inched ever closer, cell by cell, until they reached mine. A polite knock, "Mr Gunn?", then she opened the observation window. An emissary from the Inspectorate of Prisons, asking if we would like to fill in a survey form. Would I!?
It seems that most of us did. And as cons are notorious when it comes to ignoring surveys, this made me wonder.
Does the Inspectorate deliberately send pretty women to ask us to do the surveys, knowing that we are far more likely to do so in the face of feminine charm?
As a mate said to me a moment ago, "She came to my door...she was so gorgeous I nearly cried!" And yes, he filled in the survey she proffered.
Never let it be said that prison doesn't make you cynical...
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So did you do one Ben?!
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