" By the time I arrived at the strongbox, I was barely conscious. I had been dragged to the punishment block, the blows raining down on me while the screws pulling me along happily smashed my head against the iron stanchions. The last thing I remember was a screw jumping on me while the baton-wielders were beating my testicles. I was beyond fighting back....all I could do was try to protect my body from the worst of their attacks. Eventually, I must have passed out.

I woke up in the strongbox, strapped into a body belt. It felt as though every bone in my body was broken. My mouth was full of blood, the same blood that covered my whole body. In the dim light I could make out I had no clothes on. I must have lain like that for hours...I was freezing cold and the pain was unbearable. At that point I was beyond caring whether I lived or died.

The next morning, about sixteen hours later, the screws came in and dragged me to the strongbox next door while the cleaner came down to mop up the blood. I was still caked in it and could hardly move when they told me to stand for adjudication. I just spat the blood out of my mouth as the governor arrived with the chief and stood in the doorway looking down at me, as I lay naked on the floor.
Then off they went, leaving me there. Later that day, someone came in with a bucket of water and washed me down like an animal, then dragged me back into the cell I'd been in while the cleaner cleaned up the other one.
I knew that I had broken bones in my hands. I had a severe pain in the lower part of my body and back which took many months to subside.
After two days with nothing to eat, they finally brought a mess of goulash on a papier mache' plate and a cup of prison tea. My hands were still cuffed in the body belt so I could'nt use them. Instead, I was forced to eat from the plate off the floor like an animal. I realised that a tooth had been broken when I went to pick the cup up with my teeth to tilt it. Although feeling more than a little depressed, I was more determined than ever that I was going to beat them.

For about two weeks, I was not allowed any access to a toilet. And not being able to use my hands, I had to perform my bodily functions where I lay. The screws dragged me from cell to cell, their cleaner following to clear up after me.
Eventually, eight screws came into the strongbox with a pair of slippers, trousers and a jacket about two sizes too big for me. They pulled the trousers on and tied them round with a piece of mailbag rope, then wrapped the jacket right round me, buttoned it up and said.."Visiting Magistrates"
Everyone was locked in their own cells while I was taken to the boardroom. They did'nt seem to mind the magistrates seeing me, but they did'nt want the other cons to witness my condition. The trial was farcical like they always were...a typical kangaroo court. After five minutes, I was taken back into the boardroom and told by the chairman, "Your punishment has been sent for recommendation to the Home Office."
At midday, about two weeks later after everyone had been fed except me, the door of my cell was thrown open and about twelve screws stood outside. "Take this prisoner to the laundry," the chief said. When I got to the laundry there stood the governor and the doctor with their henchmen. The governor wasted no time...
" The Home Office has confirmed your punishment. You will receive twelve strokes of the cat-o'-nine tails and loss of six months remission.Remove the prisoners upper clothing and proceed to the frame."

I was taken to the back section of the laundry. There stood a large wooden frame in the shape of a triangle. Next to this frame was an ordinary wooden table. On the table I saw a large square of lint smeared with ointment, then a large canvas belt, which I discovered was to protect my kidneys, a collar of soft material to protect my neck, and a long rectangular box which presumably held the "cat".

I had just taken all this in when my ankles were shackled to the legs of the frame and my wrists cuffed to two pulleys. My head was pushed through a slit in the canvas sheet attached to the frame and a cover was buckled over my head to stop me looking around to see who was flogging me. The pulleys were then pulled by two screws who took pains to avoid looking at me... perhaps they were squeamish?I could look to my right side where my "friend" the doctor stood so that he could see both my face and back.
I heard the footsteps of the screw who was to administer the punishment. He came to the table. I could hear him open the box and take the whip out of it and I could hear the swish of the strands as he sorted and separated them. It seemed as though everyone was holding their breath. It was so quiet. I started to think what Gibbsy had said to me, when he knew I was going to have the "Pussy". " The first one hurts so much that it numbs your back and after that you can hardly feel anything".

It was some comfort. So there I was in an atmosphere of silence and hatred, despairing and frustrated. I knew I had to take my punishment without a murmour to help me through my own private war against the system, a struggle that had started at the age of 13, when I was sent to an approved school. I was now 24 years old and a "hardened criminal".
Sometimes I wondered how I had come to this......

Extract from The Brutal Truth
By Eric Mason.