Keys, bars, cells, doors, landings, wings -these images of imprisonment are the realities that face Trevor as he begins his sentence in Manchester's legendary jail-Strangeways. Just three days out of Borstal, Trevor experiences the impact of becoming yet another of Strangeways' average population of 1,600. Britain has a larger prison population than any other country in Western Europe. Antiquated 19thcentury buildings, built to deal with half the numbers they now handle, are bursting at the seams. Many men are living three to a cell. Already there have been serious disturbances at Hull and Wormwood Scrubs. Next time it could be worse. Yet everyone agrees that a large number of convicted men now in our prisons should not be there at all.
Ian is a prisoner on Dl, Strangeways' punishment landing. It is a place of tension and confrontation where incidents are commonplace. One such incident occurred which resulted in Ian making an allegation of brutality against a prison officer. There must be an enquiry. Who is telling the truth? Did the officer strike Ian in his cell, or is it a fabrication? In the closed and secret world of prison, justice is dispensed with no lawyers and no jury. And if the decision goes against Ian he stands to lose all his remission and spend a further six months in jail.
Just 250 officers look after an average population of 1,600 men and boys in conditions of gross overcrowding. The strain of living in such conditions falls not only on the prisoners, but on the officers themselves. Against a background of increasing militancy and problems of a split within their own union, this programme looks at daily life within the walls of Strangeways from the viewpoint of 'the screws'.
How do those labelled by society as criminals preserve their identity, their individuality, when prison dehumanises men with uniforms, numbers, and regimentation? There is no association, no evening classes, and the workshops are seldom open. Over a thousand adult prisoners are locked up every day - many hundreds three to a cell. Imprisonment also has a strong impact on the families outside. In tonight's programme some of Strangeways' ' 'cons' talk frankly about prison life and their attitudes to crime. But even with all the restrictions of imprisonment, it is possible to find extraordinary ways to break the monotony.
Dl is Strangeways' punishment landing, known as the Block. It is a place where men are sent to be punished for breaking prison rules. There is also a segregation unit where prisoners regarded as too subversive to live in the main prison are placed by the Governor for ' good order and discipline '. The officers who work here must be constantly on their guard, for it is a place of tension, where the 'smash up' is almost commonplace.
Cl landing in Strangeways is a place where inmates are labelled by their fellow prisoners as 'beasts'. They are mainly sex offenders. On entering prison these men are advised to apply for Rule 43A - segregation for their own protection. For if they are put in the main prison other inmates will take the law into their own hands. On this landing there are also informers, tobacco barons and others who fear revenge from fellow inmates. But to the cons, everyone on Cl is a 'beast'.
The Borstal Allocation Centre at Strangeways is a prison within a prison. It holds up to 500 young men and boys aged 15 to 21. In theory they should only stay a few days, but in practice they can find themselves inside for as long as three months. Although segregated from the adults, this is a taste of real prison life for boys whose average reading age is 12, and whose mathematical ability is no better than that of a nine-year-old. Yet here they are, experiencing the realities of our obsolete and overcrowded prison system. A recent Parliamentary report has stated that the practice of keeping such young boys in a prison is a scandal. And Assistant Governor Frank Weigh asks, 'What kind of society is it that is producing these young criminals?'
Nothing brings the true meaning of prison into sharper focus than Christmas; not just a time of merriment and good cheer, but a time when families and friends gather together. The isolation of the men inside seems all the more poignant as the authorities do their best to introduce a festive atmosphere. A tree goes up in the great central hall; decorations hang from the forbidding iron galleries and stairways; the strains of a Salvation Army band mingle with the more familiar sounds of clanging doors and rattling keys. It is a time when, traditionally, human beings pause and take stock of their situation. And a time, perhaps, for everyone to pause and take stock of what life in prison may be doing to our fellow men.