The Governor. Vanessa Frake

that’s right,’ I’d reply. Playing along.

‘So here’s the thing, miss, the old SO who worked here always used to give me an extra visit.’

      Lifers were allowed one visit from friends and family a month and if they were an Enhanced prisoner, i.e. if they behaved well, they would get an extra visit, making two visits per month. This particular prisoner was angling for me to bend the rules and give him one extra. Little did he know who he was dealing with. But I played along. Not just because it was mildly amusing to see what lies they spun, but because you can glean a lot from small conversations like that. Namely, who I should be keeping an eye on. It allowed me to work out who was who and who the biggest players were. If they were brazen enough to try it on with me, they were likely to be the ones dealing in contraband. And I don’t just mean drugs. Phones, weapons, cigarettes, home-brewed – or, rather, cell-brewed – alcohol. So I smiled and played along, but took note.

      The questions kept coming.

      ‘So where have you worked before? Do you smoke?’ Checking to see if they can blag any fags off you. ‘How long have you been in the job?’ That was their favourite.

      ‘Oh, one or two years,’ I replied, a wry smile growing. A twinkle in my eye.

      Finally, they caught on.

      ‘Eugh, you’re not new at all, are you?’

      ‘Nope.’ I grinned.

Three things I gleaned on my first day. Number one – all that dread I’d worked up had been for nothing. These men didn’t seem half as bad as I’d imagined they’d be. In fact, I’d go as far to say I felt incredibly comfortable with them. There was a ‘what you see is what you get’ sort of attitude about them. These were guys, banged up for serious crimes, yet they appeared a lot more straightforward than the women I’d dealt with.

      Second thing I learnt. Both male staff and male prisoners have potty mouths. I think I possibly heard more bad language on my first day in the Scrubs than I’d ever heard. Which included homophobic and racist references. I have no idea why. Without meaning to sound sexist I think it’s just what men do – banter – they don’t see it as inappropriate. I was not impressed, but I was hopeful my presence as a female would make a difference to how the majority of staff and prisoners spoke.

      Lastly, I couldn’t believe how dirty the wing was. The floor was absolutely minging and in need of a good polish. The place stunk to high heaven. D wing was crying out for a woman’s touch. Luckily for them, I’d arrived.