Update

Here we are approaching the end of February and not one word from any of the applications I have sent off, auditions I have attended. The last two months have been almost annoyingly quiet. Apart from one job I did have at Warner Road Police Station where I was involved in an identity parade. That was before a collosal near-miscarriage of justice, which was cleared up in under three days, though I am pretty sure word got out to the grocers in the area.

It was during my sojourn in Warner Road I started to think about how famous people would survive in gaol. I don’t think there has been a convincing portrayal of Prison life; I mean that. I mean, there was The Green Mile, The Shawshank Redemption and Within These Walls, but no really gritty, socially combative exposure of life ‘inside’.

Which is why upon my release I started to write a new novel. I don’t see why not; Richard Fairbrass is not coming back to me about that audition for the West End, and he is leaving it a little late, considering it’s been on a week. And Penguin haven’t even replied to my idea about a book about the adventures of an amorous chair.

and so my mind is sharpened, my pen is ready. I say pen because I feel the writer works best when the process is not weighed down with the rigors of technology. Plus the electric has been cut off. This is what I have written thus far

Bob Crime is a garage proprietor from the east of London. Involved with some shady coves, he quickly becomes immersed in organised crime, and is involved in the notorious fruit stand caper, where he and his cohorts knock over a fruit stand. Alone and sentenced to four thousand years, he has time to think about the error of his ways. About his wife, and about sodomy. Not necessarily in that order. Anyway one of the convicts - or lags to use the parlance of the cells - tells him to do something or other which is totally contrary to the rules of the prison and thus presents a moral dilemma which is the main driver to the story. There is conflict as well with the prison big crime man called Mr Big, and for light relief a small scuffle over a pudding.

Glorious, gritty, real.