From Unit 14-B37 (ROOMS TO LET!)
4th August 2011

Alright Mal,

As you can tell by the address, I’m still at Edmunshill stroke Highpoint North. The name of the gaff seems to change depending on what kanga you talk to. I think they all preferred it when it was a women’s nick. I ain’t got a clue what it was called then. All I know is that Myra Hindley dies here; please God she had a slow death with lots of pain. God, that was a bit like me watching Chelsea in the 80s … although we did have better times!!

I’d like to thank people once again, as the letters are still coming in daily. Even the screws say to me that I should have my own postman.

I hope everyone enjoyed their annual trip to Belfast and had a good time during the Marching Season!!

Talking of letters, well funny I got one off one of my ex’s, Julie. It didn’t really say a lot. She must have done it in between filling her crack pipe up and filling her glass with vodka and filing for divorce. Anyway, it was about as exciting as pre-season friendlies … they are meaningless!!

Well, what can I tell you has been happening in this lunatic asylum? My neighbour Ricky Gould (AKA POLISH, because obviously he is a ringer for a jam roll) has gone home and “Sick Note” (Lee Cekic) has gone to the Health Centre is over the moon he's gone. Now he can concentrate on seeing other people. i ain't joking: Sick Note was down there every other day!

This gaff is like a revolving door, but there always seems to be vacancies at this hotel!!

I’ll give you an up-date on a couple of my latest wind-ups: there’s a straight runner in here called Steve. It’s his first time in prison and (like me hopefully) his last. Anyway, I’ve got a pal who works over in the kitchen. He gets me a lot of curry powder sometimes, so, when I have a cook up in my kettle I’ve got the powder and spices for my curries. Anyway, I had a big bag of curry powder (Brown) in my pocket, so I walked into his cell and said “Alright Steve, do you want to have a go on this?”

He said: “What is it?”

“It’s the old Fleetwood Mac.”


“Heroin” I said.

“Oh my God! No Jase, not for me!”

“OK,” I said “Would you look after it for me?”

“NO NO!” was the answer.

Three days later I go back to his cell. I go into his toilet, then I come out with the bag of curry powder (which was in my pocket) in my hand and thank him.

“Why are you thanking me?”

I said: “For stashing my smack in your toilet. All the brass monkeys are ready for their fix now!”

His face was a picture!

Then there was Sparkle, who lives opposite me. I said “Listen, keep it under your hat as I can only give you four a day, but I’ve got some steroids.”

So, for a week and a half we was crushing what he thought was steroids into his food. He was telling me he felt stronger in the gym etc. etc. until he found out that they were Hermesetas that you put in your tea and coffee. Ha! Ha!

As Ramadan started yesterday and Sparkle was playing his music, which is against their religion, I thought I would help him bend the rules. He set the alarm on his clock so he knew he was allowed to eat his meal at 8.48 pm, as he’s fasting. I asked him to get the TV guide from my cell and quickly put his clock an hour forward … so he obviously ate his meal an hour earlier than he was supposed to. Old Sparkle’s fasting and Ramadan ain’t got off to the best of starts, eh?

I’m still training well and chipping away at my days, so, until next time: Thank you for all your support. You’ve been great.

Love and Respect to all,
Jason, The General
Never give up your dreams..

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