During our time working in Parc, we were given some work
that the guys had written about spice and the epidemic
that is currently happening inside our jails. I don’t believe
that many of us on the outside actually really know enough
about what massive and scary effects this drug is having
on people who are using it. I don’t think this will be the last
time we look at this issue as, speaking for myself, after
reading this I definitely wanted to find out more about this
Spice is the so-called legal high that has also been known as Mamba and Fish (that’s what they call it up in North Wales because they say it smells like fishfood). I just call it Psycozi because everything about it is mad!
Anyone who sells it on a large scale in prison lives like a king. A mamba cat or spice head will do anything for a pipe. You would never believe some of the shit they will do for a smoke.
You think you’ve seen it all and it keeps getting better! As I’m sat here on my bed tonight, I’m battling spice addiction. Gone are the days of smack; some say bring back smack.
Would you Adam and Eve it? Smack! But yes, trust me, it’s true. A smack head will bang up behind his door and not bother anyone; a smack head doesn’t Code Blue or go over; a smack head will not get paranoid like a mamba cat.
Smack heads don’t get in debt as much. If you have never done bird and don’t understand the prison system, then there is something you don’t see: the market for contraband; and believe me, it’s a big old market. Mamba millionaires I call them.
Yes, it really beggars belief. You can become a pro hit man in any jail you go to. I’ve seen it all in jail this last 18 years, nothing surprises me anymore.
Boys being stabbed over a £20 debt. If you think about it, the officers don’t know the half of what goes on behind our doors. The clever man thinks fast; it’s a survival mentality.
A screw goes home, we don’t. It’s always going to be cat and mouse. It’s funny because you either get on well or not at all, and it’s bad to be dismissive of different backgrounds.
I’m not knocking people for working because a job is a job; it’s just that there has been a hell of a lot of officers come fresh from the supermarkets. A lot of the old boys, and they are of a dying breed, were ex-army, or schoolboy rugby players. You don’t really see that sort of prison officer around as much these days; it’s mad. For what it’s worth I miss the discipline we used to get off those guys. Yes it was rough and always mob handed!
But it kept order between cons and screws. Those old boys wouldn’t let your feet touch the stairs if you weren’t towing the line. We knew where we stood with them. But that’s long gone.
Spice has a big part to play in it too. Now this is a big problem which is going on right now as I write. There are people doing their Tornado training, doing a week on the wings then walking off the job.
It’s fucking crazy. We see them go after months, but we saw one go after three days on the wings. Fuck me, it would be good if there were some of those old boys back with this spice pandemonium going on right now.
I often look around me and think about what jail I’m in. I’ve been in and out, back and forth, and double figures too.
I’ve been heard to say “So where are we, in Bridgend?” when being in Cardiff jail. Jail’s jail. And when you are being ghosted every two minutes, you can, every so often, for about 10 to 20 seconds, think, “So where am I?” Look out of a window and remember you’re up over the bridge in Oakwood or Stoke Heath, who knows anymore?
We have been all over the place. Right now I’ve got 3 and a half years left; I’ve just done 7 years out of a 10. The longer you do in prison the more contact you lose with the outside world, but you do become institutionalised.
If a man is banged behind a door 23 hours a day he’s going to go mad 8 out of 10 times and smoke spice.
If you ask me, there are Part I During our time working in Parc, we were given some work that the guys had written about spice and the epidemic that is currently happening inside our jails. I don’t believe that many of us on the outside actually really know enough about what massive and scary effects this drug is having on people who are using it.
I don’t think this will be the last time we look at this issue as, speaking for myself, after reading this I definitely wanted to find out more about this horrifying poison.
Spice Diaries by Daniel
No winners, we’re all losing – us for doing it, and them for trying to stop us. It sounds like a big game, but really it’s not.
I’ve seen boys with shit bags because they have smoked too much spice. Spice has made the British prison a much more dangerous place to live in.
Your best friend will rob your cell to fund his spice habit. I’ve seen two boys fall out over something small then one of them pay a spice head a few spliffs to stab the other one in his cell.
I heard that in one prison, it was a real jungle with lions on the wings; a lion is what they call a big player or drug dealer.
These boys know how to play the game. One of them was caught on his mobile phone one night by a screw who was by the book.
He was up for his tag the next week, so he handpicked a few spice heads and paid them to have spice planted in their cells.
He then did a deal with the prison officers who were high up in the prison system that he would rat out prison drug dealers. It cost him about 5 grand, all in all.
But it worked and he got his tag. The boys who had the spice planted in their cells, all got paid, he got his tag, and the prison had more paper work to do.
It’s a funny old life, prison. A man who is locked up in a prison cell 23 hours a day has not got nothing to lose; behind the door, day after day, week after week.
Some men work through it and keep strong; others crack. Everyone is different: some kill themselves, some smash their cells to pieces, some get on with it, and some don’t.
But a lot of criminals plot, scheme and scam. If there is nothing to do other than think to yourself all day, then what do you think is going to happen?
They say prisons are universities for criminals; it’s true, you learn so much in prison about so many different crimes.
It never seems to amaze me anymore about all the different ways people go about their lives: the fraudsters, the arsonists, the bank robbers.
Yes, we’re all crims, but that’s it, it stops there. One man sells drugs because he needs to support his family; the next man does it for the power.
Some sell drugs to support their drug addiction. Every man is different to the next. Before I ever came to prison I never thought it would be anything like it is.
One man once said to me: it’s not the prison that’s the hard part, it’s the people you do it with.