I had a spell in D.Q's in Portsmouth for one month and it was worse than the Shawshank Redemption. I only went AWOL twice and they must have thought I was one of the fooking Kray Twins. They were extremely cruel cunts even though I was only a youngster and we had to rise up at daft o' clock in the morning for our 6 mile run. Then we had breakfast and cell inspection. This was beyond the remit as your bed sheets had to be ironed to pristine and your blankets folded to perfection and laid on the head of the bed. Symmetry was everything, whilst on the corner of our cells we displayed dobie gear and personals such as soap and toothpaste where we created monuments resembling works of art. I could not fold my blankets correctly as each layer has to be crisp and to the millimeter identical beyond any OCD aficionado, so I just paid to have mine done with 4 cigarettes and slept on the bare floor for a month to save the mither. Our rations were 2 cigarettes a day or 6 boiled sweeties and they wrote your serial number on the tip of the cigarette. They were beyond the remit of sad-sacs and I always vowed that if I was in perilous combat on high sea against enemy most foul I was going to secretly shoot the Captain of the ship in the back and then place him in a barrel of rum to pickle the twat after first dry bumming him senseless. This kept me going through difficult times and so when I actually went to engage in perilous combat upon high sea against those Icelandic fish thieving pirating-swine I was too busy hiding in our crows nest to bum anything let alone our dear old Capitan. A man can get proper hurt will all that swashbuckling shite so best just to isolate: That is all:
I have never ever ever done anything else wrong in my whole life except abscond those 2 toilet rolls last week from the Premier Inn Blackpool.
