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  • Writer's pictureCounty Lines


I was just looking at Christmas trees. My 7ft Nordic spruce with all the carefully selected pink baubles I’d bought over the course of 10 years got set on fire last year. So I have to start all over again.

But then I thought…shit, I can’t exactly smuggle a Christmas tree into prison with me can I? And instead of looking at Christmas trees, maybe I should be looking at tattoo designs, start introducing words like “ennit”, “nitty” and “wagwan” into my vocabulary and purchase an Adidas tracksuit and Nike trainers instead of a fucking Christmas tree.

In the past two days I’ve lost the plot on the detective who interviewed me when I was arrested, by bombarding her with incoherent text messages while she was in court. AND rang the police asking for help with the junkies down my street harrassing me, then proceeded to hide when the police showed up.

I am definitely going to prison.

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