The Mammoth Book of Hard Bastards (Mammoth Books) (10 page)

Do you know, this is only half of what I did? It’s not even counting my disciplinary charges or verbal threats and abuse or bad
behaviour
. Fuck me, I really was a nasty bastard. How I’ve changed. It’s now seven years since I was in any serious trouble. I’ve actually learnt the hard way. I’m just not the same man nowadays. I’m now anti-violence and anti-crime. This record is my past, thanks. Fuck, it makes frightening reading and it’s only a small summary of my past behaviour. Now you know me better. Maybe you now hate me or you believe I should die inside, but bear in mind that I have paid the price. I have been punished severely. People do change. I’m the proof of it. I could actually help a lot of youngsters stay out of jail.

I will never glamorize crime or violence. One thing’s for sure – my body is now paying the price for my violent life. I’m a walking scar and the arthritis is kicking in. My eyes are going. My mind wanders. I feel shell-shocked. I suffer with post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m the old ghost … Did I ever tell you about the time I carved a gun out of a bar of carbolic soap and then spread black boot polish over it? I stuck it in a work screw’s face and said, “Give me your fucking keys now, you cunt!” Fuck me, he nearly had a heart attack. The Governor wouldn’t accept that it was only a prank, so that cost me three months in chokey with no canteen and no bed. They just can’t take a joke these people! Hey, it did look like a real gun though. You see, in jail you have time to think, time to pass. You can do anything if you’re determined; well, anything within reason.

In one jail I was in, which I’ll not name for obvious reasons, I made a kite. Yeah, a fucking silly kite. I got hundreds and hundreds of yards of cotton and flew it over the wall from my cell window. Why? Use your head! Let’s just say I never went without for a good brew. It’s easy if you’re 100 per cent determined, but you have to believe in yourself and have contacts outside. Nowadays they smuggle in mobiles. Every week in jail there are hundreds found and confiscated, especially in the low category jails. Times change. How nice it must be to call your girl up, in private, and have an hour or two’s dirty talk. Why not? In one jail I was in the lads were passing around a blow-up doll with a real fanny hole. It cost 3oz of baccy a night. You’d be amazed at who was shagging that doll. It’s more like who never shagged it! Okay, I had a go. I put a load of
margarine
in the hole and went for it. Fuck me, I never kissed it! Then rock band Procol Harum came on the radio with “Whiter Shade of Pale”, so we had a slow dance. Then I bent her over the bed and did her doggy style. Sure it’s mad, but that’s how jail is – mad! You can’t get through it without being mad. Luckily I covered up the door spyhole, or I’d have ended up in the padded cell! The screw ended up knocking on the door at 2 a.m.

He shouted, “Take down the cover so I can see you, Bronson.”

I shouted back, “I’m having a shit!”

He yelled, “What, since nine p.m.?”

“Fuck off!” I shouted as I cuddled up to the doll.

“You’re nicked, Bronson.”

What’s new! The next night some other hot-blooded stag had a go. Now I’m not making this up, but in one jail they had a sheep, a fucking blow-up sheep … and no, I never!

There’s a whisper here that some have blow-up dolls with cocks on. Now that don’t amaze me with all these filthy nonces, so it’s probably true. It’s fucking loonyology, total insanity gone mad!

I’ve only ever had one fair fight with a screw in thirty-three years and that was in the seg. block in Wandsworth back in 1976 – or was it 1975? One of them years. He was a Geordie screw; a big lump, in his early thirties. He loved a drink and a fight. What Geordie don’t?

Anyway, one thing led to another and a confrontation broke out. He took off his keys and ran into my cell. That was it. A real fight began, toe to toe. Crack, bang, wallop! It was a good fight. That’s how it should be sorted, not ten on to one. Men don’t need ten behind them. So Geordie got my respect. Even though some of his mates ran in to break it up just as I was getting the better of him, it was a proper scrap that we both wanted. It cleared the air.

You gotta understand that men are born to fight. In my walk of life you can’t but fight. Prisons are a volcano of violence just waiting to erupt. It don’t take a lot to work out why: we are men; frustrated; anxious; fed up; bored. We are sick of it all. Why can’t the system wake up? Let us have a good old-fashioned fuck every once in a while; a bit of pussy juice. Let us do what we are put on the planet for. That’s unless a guy is satisfied wasting his life away. I’m not. That becomes boring.

Hey, I should have been a psychologist! My way would clear up all prison violence. I would make our prisons safer places – with common sense! Work the cons hard, with lots of discipline, but every so often let the girls in to bring in some loving. Sweet and tender loving works! Wake up you prison officials. My way would stop all the pain!

Over the years I’ve had some memorable visits from all walks of life: family, biz and pleasure. I’ve even had a fuck several times. Difficult but it’s possible.

Kelly Anne was one. We got it on in Albany and Hull jails. She was one crazy bitch but a good visitor. At Albany on the Isle of Wight I was forever in the seg. block and all my visits were in a room meant for solicitors’ visits. Screws used to sit outside the door and it also had CCTV, so you would think it impossible to have a shag. Yeah, so would I. Plus we were supposed to sit at either side of the table. This was the rules. This was the late 1980s. This is what happened. 

I arrived at the visit with an escort of eight screws, as I was on a seriously heavy unlock these days as my world was a crazy journey. I was so unpredictable. I sat down at the table waiting for Kelly Anne to come in. In she walked with a tray of orange juice and chocolates. She had a wicked smile. She was up to no good. I always knew when she was being naughty. Then she undid her coat. Fuck me, she had fuck all on and it was winking at me. What she’d done was slid into the ladies, taken her clothes off and stuffed them in her pockets! I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. I had a raging hard-on and said, “Right, let’s do it.”

She came around my side of the table and sat on me. It slipped right up her. I just could not fucking believe it. We was fucking. Her coat was still on, so all the screws could see was her sitting on my lap. It was mental.

One screw came in and said, “Come on, Charlie, that’s not allowed.”

What could I do? What would anybody do?

I said, “Look boss, she’s a bit upset. Give it five minutes.”

And it worked!

He said, “Five minutes or you’ll get me in trouble.”

As she bobbed up and down there were screws looking in. It was fucking brilliant. Hot, wet, sticky and bloody lovely. But, as usual, Kelly can’t behave. She just goes over the top.

“It’s supposed to be a secret fuck,” I whispered. “Slow down, you’re putting it bang on me there.”

But she kept bouncing up and down and making the noise that’s only ever used when you’re alone.

The screws came back in. “Come on, Charlie, you’ll have to let her sit on her side of the table.”

As he spoke I shot my load right in her. The screw must have known as I was truly hazy.

“Yeah, okay boss, no problem.”

Kelly got off and went to the toilet to clean up, but most of it was all over me. My jeans were drenched in pussy juice and come. When she came back we just started laughing. It did me the world of good. All my stress and anxiety had vanished. I felt human again. It was brilliant.

After I ate some chocs and drank some orange Kelly then gave me a good old-fashioned wank under the table. I swear the screws could see. There’s no way they couldn’t but see. She wasn’t playing chess under the table. Her body was shaking as she wanked me off. It was so funny. A bit strange, but again I shot my load. Most went on the floor, but she must have got some on her hand as she licked it off. Kelly Anne was to me sex on legs. What a visit that was – very memorable.

Another time was in Hull Jail. Looking back I guess she’s an
exhibitionist.
She loved getting men at it. It’s her scene but it all turned nasty with Kelly. It’s all in my other books so I won’t bother going into it again. I’ve no real bad feelings on the matter, I just move on in life, bury the hatchet so to speak. But marks out of ten for sex with Kelly would be ten-and-a-half. It was brilliant. She was bloody crazy and that’s how I like my women: a bit mental, dangerous, unpredictable. She took a gamble and it paid off. It could’ve turned nasty, but it truly was a brilliant fuck to remember. That shag in Albany must go down in history.

She must’ve been so up for it, as it just slipped in. It was the hottest fanny on the planet. It’s the danger that does that to a woman: the dare, the gamble. She had planned it down to the split second – all the way from Luton to the Isle of  Wight. She was gagging for it. She wanted to give me something to behave for. It was her way of saying, “Be good, behave and get out fast and you can have a lot more of this. It’s waiting for you. Come home.”

But life don’t ever work out like that. I don’t believe in fairy tales. Never have done. Life is reality. Kelly Anne knew it too. She had other plans for me. Plans that I knew fuck all about but I was sure to be dragged into them, and I was. The rest is history.

The moral to the story is: the cat that gets the cream is not always a happy cat. Some cats are greedy, selfish fuckers!

I also had a blow job in Parkhurst Visiting Room. I’ll not say who by. My reason for that is simple: I don’t wish to. Some women don’t deserve to be exposed; in fact most don’t. Most to me are ladies I respect.

This blow job was not planned. It just started off as a kiss and a bit of fondling. A screw did come over and say, “Cool it, Charlie,” and that was that. The visiting room was quite full, so there was a lot of noise and I just enjoyed the company. For a laugh I pulled out my dick under the table and grabbed her hand and put it on it. She laughed and gave it a few pulls. Then she disappeared under the table. I was having a fucking blow job in the middle of the visiting room! I could not believe it. Remember, it’s months and months with no sex. So it don’t take long to come, and come I did. I couldn’t stop coming. Another memorable visit. But, believe me, these sorts of visits are very few and far between. It’s why you can never forget them.

Talking of pussies, the nicest pussy I can remember was Jan Lamb’s, and I say this with the utmost respect as she’s a proper lovely lady, solid. Anyway, it’s no secret that she’s proud to have had me in the sack. I’m still in touch with Jan all these years later. We practically fucked ourselves silly. She done things with my cock I never thought possible. There’s shagging and there’s shagging. This was SHAGGINGGGGG. Fuck me, my dick was red raw. We never stopped. If we’d videoed it, it would’ve sold a million copies overnight. People just don’t understand, but when a man’s gone without pussy for so long it just takes him over. Jan Lamb was a very lucky lady meeting me. Someone had to help me back to sanity and it was Jan. Hey, make no mistake about it, she’s a lovely sort and a respected woman amongst my firm, my circle, my special haunts, my world. The Krays loved Jan as well. Both respected her. But my memories of her are special. We’d never laughed so much in our lives – so much were crying: a pool of sweat and tears. That’s how sex should be: raw and mad. When a bloke shoots his load he’s gotta let it fly: hit the fucking ceiling, shoot it in the face, over the tits, then rub it in and start all over again. Fuck till you drop. With Jan we loved it doggie style, growling and barking. It’s fucking fantastic. I’ve got a hard-on now just thinking about it.

Well, I love a good woman and when that woman becomes a part of my journey she becomes “special”. So when we fuck, we fuck with our souls, we enter the unknown. It’s fucking wicked,
beautiful.
Jan had those special piss flaps that sort of wrap around your cock like a foreskin. Do you know what I mean? Maybe you’ve not all seen them. Let me explain if I can. The flaps sort of feel like bits of liver – nice. Anyway, she had lovely flaps that have stayed in my memory. I study things like that. I’m a bit of a studier on the quiet; an analyst. I like to see how the human body works. There’s nothing quite like our body. It’s unique in every sense of the word. So look after it. It’s yours. Don’t let nobody ever abuse it. Love yourselves. Love your body. Reach in and love it too. My cock is still erect. I’m ready to rumble. I’ll leave it at that.

Who remembers their first fuck? Come on, you must do. That first time you felt that hot, wet, sticky pussy and you thought: fuck me, does it bite? Was that first time scary or what? That first time she grabbed your cock and slipped it in the honeypot. We all remember it. Awesome. It don’t make no difference if you reach a low, you always remember it. That first-love fling when your whole world was lit up with rainbows. Dreams come true. You just cannot get enough of it. No sooner had you shot your load, you was ready again. You fucked till your dick was red raw from hour after hour of grinding away. Who says dreams don’t come true?