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Time for Cannabis: The Prison Years 1991 to 1995 - excerpt HMP Whitemoor

Taken from Time for Cannabis, The Prison Years, available on Amazon in paperback and on Kindle

HMP Whitemoor

During my time on remand in Norwich I had somehow managed to give up smoking cigarettes. This had been on New Year's Eve; not exactly a resolution but a definite conscious decision. I had passed through the time of bail and the tremendous stress involved with the court case and awaiting sentence without starting again. Even the months of boredom awaiting transfer had not driven me back to that particular demon and deadly weed!

On the day of transfer to Whitemoor Maximum Security prison my resolve came very close to breaking. After a journey which seemed to take hours (it actually took just over an hour), with myself and another convict P handcuffed together in the prison bus, we arrived at Whitemoor only to be whisked through and placed in a waiting cell in reception. Although from the outside the building looked remarkably new and clean, situated out in the Moors, the most striking feature was the heavy repressive "vibe" I felt as we entered. As P made himself a thin roll-up I suddenly wanted my first cigarette in eleven months. I can only be grateful to P for offering me one when I'd mentioned it! If he had not done so my cravings would have increased to the point where I would have happily begged, but it was his very offer which hardened my resolve. I decided to turn away from the demon and await a nice cup of tea on the wing instead.

F or a maximum security prison, the search of our possessions, all in prison transit boxes, was remarkably light and brief. My disposable gas lighter was disposed of, as they were not allowed here. We were then taken through the endless locked gates, down the long camera-filled corridors, and put onto C wing.

Whitemoor consisted of four wings, A, B, C, and D. Wings A and B were reserved for the nonces and beasts. Sex offenders and the worst type of serial killers, being under constant (and maybe understandable) threat from the rest of the prison community, are considered vulnerable by the authorities, and in Whitemoor there are two wings to themselves. In theory at least they are never allowed to mix with other prisoners, for their own sakes. In fact this seriously disrupts the system, since it results in the necessity of constantly monitoring the flowing of prisoners to ensure that they do not cross, which slows down movements. They have their separate library evenings, separate gym. sessions, separate work and separate exercise times on the Astroturf.

What is not separated, believe it or not, is visits! This is probably due to the more or less correct assumption that nobody will attack anybody else whilst on the way to, or during, a family visit. Although the two types of prisoner are taken to the visiting hall, under escort, at different times, the time spent waiting for the movements from these "vulnerable" wings for visits to cease, before the rest of us can move, and the fact that the nonces are sitting down one end of the hall and us at the other, only adds to the general resentments and hatred. At our end we are constantly concerned lest our small children stray down the other end of the hall. The hatred we feel for most of those men is often shared by many of the screws.

Personally, I can only think that such a system of trying to run two maximum security prisons in one was devised by a crazy man!

Each of the four wings at Whitemoor houses three spurs, labelled blue, red and green. It would come as no surprise to anyone experienced in the prison system, that although the floors of the spurs are coloured orange, green and blue, this bears absolutely no relationship to the spurs' names! Each spur houses approximately 42 inmates on three landings.

During my stay there was free flow between spurs but not between wings, although C wing (my wing) and D wing did mix on education, exercise, at work, and in the gymasium.

Being a new prison the cells were equipped with flush toilets and wash basins. The windows were heavily barred; the view out of mine was of a small patch of grass separating us from another wing. I could not see the sky, day or night. At night the area was floodlit. Day and night it was observed through cameras. All the cells were singles. The noise factor was quite high, even at night. Outside the cell door was the landing, and on the ground floor ("the Ones") some men had put tables and chairs so that they could sit and play cards, talk, or eat together. Also on this ground floor there was a pool table and table tennis table but one had to find one's own table tennis ball.

The three spurs joined together and led into an area which was originally meant as a dining area, where the serving hatch was; situated. Meal times were at 8.15 am, noon and 4.45 pm, when we would go along and collect our slops on plastic plates and eat it with plastic knives and forks.

The quality of the food, out of kindness, can only be described as very poor. The ingredients were fine, but mostly ruined during cooking or standing round for literally hours before being brought from the main kitchens to the wings for serving.

Most of my meals were binned. The prison service needs severe criticism for the quality of food in most prisons. One wonders if the fact that most prisoners are fed at a cost less than the dogs who patrol the grounds, reflects the true feelings of the authorities towards convicts.

Do they regard us as animals? If they treat people like animals then the chances are that animals is what will eventually be released back into society.

We had access to small but reasonably well-equipped inmate kitchens where we could cook whatever we wanted, which could be ordered via the canteen once a week, and those who had money mostly did this.

We were allowed to spent up to £5 per week on top of the wage, which was about £6 depending on occupation.

There was also a water boiler so we could make our own tea. Each week we were provided with tea bags, sugar and powdered milk for this purpose. There was a great deal of pilfering from the main kitchen, a necessary part of life in this nick, everything from milk to chickens.

The other facilities around the wing consisted of a video and TV room, communal showers, and, later on, washing machines. There were three monitored telephones per wing, operated by special HMP phone cards bought from the canteen.

Outside and between the spurs was a small fenced-in and filthy yard (made filthy by the inmates throwing rubbish and scraps from their overlooking windows, and seldom cleaned); this yard was about 30 feet square; this was where some 240 inmates were allowed for 40 minutes twice daily for exercise, or, in the summer, to sit in a clean area in the sun.

The general attitudes of the inmates, I believe largely caused by their treatment, manifests in their attitude to their environment and the few facilities. Everything from the TV's to the pool tables are subject to the vandalism that reflects the tension and the lack of self esteem felt by the men. During my stay at Whitemoor there were a number of incidents of release of tension in this way. One case involved a man, quite intoxicated on the local brew, Hooch, pissing on to the pool table from the third floor!

There was a considerable amount of Hooch on the wings, and a lot of hard drugs. The drugs somehow kept the lid on the place, most of the time. Each wing contained some 15 to 20 lifers, many with recommendations of long sentences, as well as a lot of guys doing over twenty years. Almost everyone was doing over eight years.

My ten-year sentence was small compared to most. In a situation like this most men have little to lose, and the atmosphere is one of constant tension and frustration, like you would expect from caged animals. Once a place like this "goes off" there can be untold damage, violence, and even loss of life. Hence the screws, affectionately known as "kanga's" are just as tense and wary as the inmates. (Kanga = kangaroo = screw = prison officer). During my stay of ten months at Whitemoor there were not many occurrences of trouble calling for the presence of outside "mufti's" or riot squads. I lived there in quiet times.

The first time I witnessed such an occasion was three days after my arrival, but I will come to that shortly.

The day after our arrival we were taken down to the stores to collect our clothes and kit. I must say that it was a surprise to find that most of the clothes were in reasonable condition. We were given two pairs of jeans, three striped blue shirts, underwear and socks, tee-shirts, a jumper and a denim jacket.

Of course we would not really need cold weather clothes since we were hardly likely to be going out much. These items were all put into a transit box which we carried back, via about eight sets of locked gates, to our cells.

Upon arrival at HMP Whitemoor, in theory, each inmate was to undergo a period of induction in a separate building known, for some reason, as the "spud unit" . This is where one would be told how the place was run, what was offered to you and what was required of you. Unfortunately, when we arrived this unit was full up with overflow from the block. The block, a segregation punishment unit, and the spud unit were full during my whole stay at Whitemoor, although I myself never visited either. Some guys spent their whole time at Whitemoor down there, and never came onto the wing. Every prisoner in the block, though, had to have a cell reserved for him on the wing, which meant quite a few empty cells, some of which were never occupied. This was something of a joke against the authorities.

Very few men seemed to regard a trip to the block as any sort of threat, despite the stories of beatings by the officers down there, and the resulting "shit protests", a situation where inmates would cover themselves and their cells with their own excrement, a practice which originated in the prisons to stop such beatings, the assumption being that no officer would want to enter such a cell or touch such a person; mostly true!

But for us new arrivals, the running of Whitemoor was to remain a mystery which we had to unravel ourselves, as we were not able to go on induction. Hence we were put straight on the wing, a different wing to our mates from the time of remand in Norwich.

For the first two days it was the height of boredom, confusion, and tension. On the third day the situation changed. There was a contained riot and lock down, although in fact it was the other way round; the riot and smash up resulted from the lock down!

Apparently some men had been discovered with weapons and files, trying to file through the bars of a cell window. This was only natural of course. But the result was that the inexperienced and out-of-touch Governor, whom I never even saw at any stage during my sentence (he was probably justifiably too frightened to show his face), ordered that the whole prison be "spun" (searched) and any "excess kit" removed.

The doors were not unlocked that morning. The screws, being well trained fascists who follow orders to the letter and without question, proceeded to search each cell in turn. As the officers moved through the wing, coming closer and closer to my cell, I could hear more and more shouting and banging and smashing.

Eventually it was my turn.

Three screws came into the cell and ordered me to strip for a search. They then searched the cell. The items that I had and which were confiscated were: a plastic chair which had been in the cell when I arrived but which technically belonged in the video room ( all the chairs were actually in cells), a metal tea spoon I had brought from Norwich, a plastic shaving mirror, a second blue plastic bowl I had also brought with me, and a second white plastic plate!

Dangerous stuff, particularly the mirror which, if waved in an officer's face, could send him into serious shock!

After they left my cell the situation outside worsened. It was now well past lunch time and the spins were continuing; we were not being given lunch! Then shouting started and rumour spread that a man on the ones had refused them entry to his cell, by barricading his door.

Of course, there are procedures for this, and entry was forced, and, so the shouts claimed, the man had been grabbed, had his arm broken, and received a serious kicking. Then the place "went off". I could hear sinks and toilets being smashed everywhere.

From my small window I could see flaming papers descending into the yard outside. Individuals were being dragged off to the block, some being quite badly kicked and punched. The long-timers were shouting threats at the screws. I heard one prisoner shout "I'm doing a long time you bastards, just wait til I get my chance." The civilian "mufti" squad was called in. Unknown to us the whole outside of the prison was surrounded by coach loads of police and army, and helicopters filled the skies. Safely inside my cell I must admit to being quite amused and entertained; it certainly broke the monotony!

At about 6 PM. my cell door was opened and I was told to go and collect my dinner. We were being let out two at a time, and about thirty or so officers were standing around the wing. I was escorted down to the serving hatch and back by no less than four padded and visored "mufties" who never uttered a word and neither did I; it just seemed so funny to me! I collected a dinner, stone cold, and after one taste, back in my cell, flushed it away. I had been allowed to fill my Thermos flask, so at least had a nice cuppa. This procedure took several hours, and was repeated as soon as it was over, so we could have an equally bad evening meal. The day ended quite quietly and I went to sleep, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.

The following day we were still locked in our cells, all work and education and association being cancelled, whilst various inmates were taken away for instant transfer throughout the national prison dispersal system. Altogether I think some 40 to 50 inmates were moved out.

It didn't make a lot of difference to me, since I did not know anyone anyway, but it was certainly an experience, and a demonstration of the trouble that can be caused by an ill-worded command from an out-of-touch Governor. Apparently this same Governor had caused a riot several years earlier, in Norwich prison!

The following day we were still left locked up. This was known as a "lock-down", and let out a few at a time for a late and cold breakfast. We all stayed in our cells until after lunch, when letters from the Governor were pushed under our doors, saying that if things remained quiet we would be returning to normal routines soon. As it happened, that was on the following day.

Well, what an introduction to Whitemoor for me!

It was like a lesson on in-cell smash-ups and "ship-outs", mostly involving men I did not know but with whom I had considerable sympathy, both because we were all locked up and because the removal of such petty yet helpful everyday items from our possessions was nonsensical and inhumane. Why these men were in prison in the first place, was irrelevant to me.

This is a question which remains unasked until one gets to know someone better. For me the reality was that whoever they were or whatever they had done, the system was almost certainly as bias against them as it had been against me. A heck of a lot of men in places like Whitemoor were awaiting appeals on both conviction and sentence.

I feel pretty certain that some of these men were innocent, and many may eventually have won their appeals.

Of course the facts that innocent men can get convicted by their so-called peers, and that on the other hand guilty men can have convictions quashed due to technicalities or misbehaviour by the police, forensic scientists or prosecution service (CPS), makes quite a mockery of the legal system. Who knows whether it is preferable to bang up a few innocent in order to keep the guilty off the streets, or to free a few guilty in order that miscarriages of justice on the innocent cease.

 

Whatever conclusions one reaches, whatever one's feelings about how prisoners should be treated, prisons like Whitemoor seem devised to remove individuality (at which they are unsuccessful), induce fear and even paranoia, and produce a very angry, bitter, twisted, warped personality on release.

 

Al Zeeman

Alzee was a name given to me in 1971 ("Hey Alzee Man!") and many have known me by that name or vaiations since then - Alsee, Alsy, Alsey - my birth name Alun Buffry, I have never hidden my identity and most of my books were written under that name - for this one I decided to make a change.

Kindle Version
Paperback

 

Al Zeeman first consumed cannabis in 1970 whilst at University, firstly in the form of “Coffee Bhangs” and hash cakes, then smoking mixed with tobacco or pure in pipes. After graduating, he travelled across Europe to India and back, stopping off in several places such as Kabul to sample the hasheesh.

Upon returning from India, he started following the teaching and practices of Prem Rawat, then known as “Guru Maharaji”, a fifteen year old from India.

A few years later, Al started smoking cannabis again and continued to so for almost 50 years, including his time in several UK prisons. He continued to follow Prem Rawat which he still does today.

But during the time since 1970, Al Zeeman travelled widely throughout Europe, also visiting Morocco, India, Nepal, Kashmir and Egypt, meeting many people and smoking hos weed (and theirs) and was so often "stoned again”.

The author also participated in “Legalise Cannabis Campaigns” for over thirty years, even standing for Parliament under the banner of the Legalise Cannabis Alliance (LCA) on the single issue, in 2001.

This is his account of his experiences, the places he saw and some of the friends he made.

This book, along with many amusing anecdotes, recalls his encounters and near misses with the forces of law in the UK. Also the book contains a wealth of information on the uses of cannabis / hemp, the types and sources, smoking utensils, some political opinions and a chronology of cannabis.

Zeeman pays tribute to the cannabis campaigners and enthusiasts that he met along the way, many of whom have now passed on, including Howard Marks, Chris Baldwin, Don Barnard, Winston Matthews, Mark and Lezley Gibson, Clara O’Donnell, Jack and Tina Girling, Lee Harris, Steve Pank, Jooep Oomen and “Granny” Pat Tabram.

At the end of the book, Zeeman gives his birth name, Alun Buffry, stating that he has never made any attempt to hide his identity.

Table of Contents:

NICOLAS CULPEPER, CANNABIS LAWS – PROHIBITION, COFFEE-BHANGS AND HASH CAKES, THE DEALER’S HAT, FIRST CHILLUM, A BRUSH OR TWO WITH THE LAW,FRANKFURT, MUNICH, BELGRADE, ISTANBUL, AFYON /AFYONKARAISHAR, THE FISHERMAN ON THE BEACH, HEADING EAST, AFGHANISTAN, KABUL, HELMUT, KHYBER PASS AND ONWARDS TO INDIA, INDIA: HARIDWAR AND THE GANGES, NORFOLK, THE WRECKING CREW, BUSTED, WICKLEWOOD, MR NICE, JACK AND LILY, STANLEY ATKINS, JOE HARDY-SHARP,POLISH CHRIS – CHRIS LAUSCH, MONTY, LESLEY JAMES, THE “BIG MONEY GANG”,CAMPAIGN TO LEGALISE CANNABIS INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION 1992, BANGED UP, HOWARD MARKS, MR NICE 1997,THE LEGALISE CANNABIS ALLIANCE (LCA) 1999, TRAVELLING HIGH, NOL VAN SHAIK’S SPANISH COMPLEX, CAMPAIGN GROUPS DURING AND AFTER THE LCA, METHODS OF CONSUMPTION, TYPES AND SOURCES OF CANNABIS, RECREATIONAL OR MEDICAL, CANNABIS ABROAD, HOLLAND AND THE NETHERLANDS, SPAIN, PORTUGAL, IRELAND, GERMANY, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, GREECE, ITALY: SICILY, MOROCCO, INDIA, OTHER COUNTRIES, THE BAD STUFF, GROW YOUR OWN, CANNABIS PROTESTS, HEADSHOPS, SMOKEY BEARS PICNICS, RALLIES AND MARCHES, COFFEESHOPS, BYE BYE, A CHRONOLOGY OF CANNABIS.

My Weed and I, Stoned Again! by Al Zeeman

 Paperback  and Kindle

 My Weed and I, Stoned Again! by Al Zeeman aka Alun Buffry

Al Zeeman first consumed cannabis in 1970 whilst at University, firstly in the form of “Coffee Bhangs” and hash cakes, then smoking mixed with tobacco or pure in pipes. After graduating, he travelled across Europe to India and back, stopping off in several places such as Kabul to sample the hasheesh.

Upon returning from India, he started following the teaching and practices of Prem Rawat, then known as “Guru Maharaji”, a fifteen year old from India.

A few years later, Al started smoking cannabis again and continued to so for almost 50 years, including his time in several UK prisons. He continued to follow Prem Rawat which he still does today.

But during the time since 1970, Al Zeeman travelled widely throughout Europe, also visiting Morocco, India, Nepal, Kashmir and Egypt, meeting many people and smoking hos weed (and theirs) and was so often "stoned again”.

The author also participated in “Legalise Cannabis Campaigns” for over thirty years, even standing for Parliament under the banner of the Legalise Cannabis Alliance (LCA) on the single issue, in 2001.

This is his account of his experiences, the places he saw and some of the friends he made.

This book, along with many amusing anecdotes, recalls his encounters and near misses with the forces of law in the UK. Also the book contains a wealth of information on the uses of cannabis / hemp, the types and sources, smoking utensils, some political opinions and a chronology of cannabis.

Zeeman pays tribute to the cannabis campaigners and enthusiasts that he met along the way, many of whom have now passed on, including Howard Marks, Chris Baldwin, Don Barnard, Winston Matthews, Mark and Lezley Gibson, Clara O’Donnell, Jack and Tina Girling, Lee Harris, Steve Pank, Jooep Oomen and “Granny” Pat Tabram.

At the end of the book, Zeeman gives his birth name, Alun Buffry, stating that he has never made any attempt to hide his identity.

Table of Contents:

NICOLAS CULPEPER, CANNABIS LAWS – PROHIBITION, COFFEE-BHANGS AND HASH CAKES, THE DEALER’S HAT, FIRST CHILLUM, A BRUSH OR TWO WITH THE LAW, FRANKFURT, MUNICH, BELGRADE, ISTANBUL, AFYON /AFYONKARAISHAR, THE FISHERMAN ON THE BEACH, HEADING EAST, AFGHANISTAN, KABUL, HELMUT, KHYBER PASS AND ONWARDS TO INDIA, INDIA: HARIDWAR AND THE GANGES, NORFOLK, THE WRECKING CREW, BUSTED, WICKLEWOOD, MR NICE, JACK AND LILY, STANLEY ATKINS, JOE HARDY-SHARP,POLISH CHRIS – CHRIS LAUSCH, MONTY, LESLEY JAMES, THE “BIG MONEY GANG”,CAMPAIGN TO LEGALISE CANNABIS INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION 1992, BANGED UP, HOWARD MARKS, MR NICE 1997,THE LEGALISE CANNABIS ALLIANCE (LCA) 1999, TRAVELLING HIGH, NOL VAN SHAIK’S SPANISH COMPLEX, CAMPAIGN GROUPS DURING AND AFTER THE LCA, METHODS OF CONSUMPTION, TYPES AND SOURCES OF CANNABIS, RECREATIONAL OR MEDICAL, CANNABIS ABROAD, HOLLAND AND THE NETHERLANDS, SPAIN, PORTUGAL, IRELAND, GERMANY, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, GREECE, ITALY: SICILY, MOROCCO, INDIA, OTHER COUNTRIES, THE BAD STUFF, GROW YOUR OWN, CANNABIS PROTESTS, HEADSHOPS, SMOKEY BEARS PICNICS, RALLIES AND MARCHES, COFFEESHOPS, BYE BYE, A CHRONOLOGY OF CANNABIS.

 

My Books on Amazon - ABeFree Publishing

My Books on Amazon

My Weed and I, Stoned Again! by Al Zeeman, Amazon and Kindle

 Due for Publication on Amazon UK tomorrow, January 1st 2026 - already available on Kindle
"MY WEED AND i, STONED AGAIN!" by Al Zeeman

Al Zeeman first consumed cannabis in 1970 whilst at University, firstly in the form of “Coffee Bhangs” and hash cakes, then smoking mixed with tobacco or pure in pipes. After graduating, he travelled across Europe to India and back, stopping off in several places such as Kabul to sample the hasheesh.

Upon returning from India, he started following the teaching and practices of Prem Rawat, then known as “Guru Maharaji”, a fifteen year old from India.

A few years later, Al started smoking cannabis again and continued to so for almost 50 years, including his time in several UK prisons. He continued to follow Prem Rawat which he still does today.

But during the time since 1970, Al Zeeman travelled widely throughout Europe, also visiting Morocco, India, Nepal, Kashmir and Egypt, meeting many people and smoking hos weed (and theirs) and was so often "stoned again”.

The author also participated in “Legalise Cannabis Campaigns” for over thirty years, even standing for Parliament under the banner of the Legalise Cannabis Alliance (LCA) on the single issue, in 2001.

This is his account of his experiences, the places he saw and some of the friends he made.

This book, along with many amusing anecdotes, recalls his encounters and near misses with the forces of law in the UK. Also the book contains a wealth of information on the uses of cannabis / hemp, the types and sources, smoking utensils, some political opinions and a chronology of cannabis.

Zeeman pays tribute to the cannabis campaigners and enthusiasts that he met along the way, many of whom have now passed on, including Howard Marks, Chris Baldwin, Don Barnard, Winston Matthews, Mark and Lezley Gibson, Clara O’Donnell, Jack and Tina Girling, Lee Harris, Steve Pank, Jooep Oomen and “Granny” Pat Tabram.

At the end of the book, Zeeman gives his birth name, Alun Buffry, stating that he has never made any attempt to hide his identity.

Table of Contents:
NICOLAS CULPEPER, CANNABIS LAWS – PROHIBITION, COFFEE-BHANGS AND HASH CAKES, THE DEALER’S HAT, FIRST CHILLUM, A BRUSH OR TWO WITH THE LAW,
FRANKFURT, MUNICH, BELGRADE, ISTANBUL, AFYON /AFYONKARAISHAR, THE FISHERMAN ON THE BEACH, HEADING EAST, AFGHANISTAN, KABUL, HELMUT, KHYBER PASS AND ONWARDS TO INDIA, INDIA: HARIDWAR AND THE GANGES, NORFOLK, THE WRECKING CREW, BUSTED, WICKLEWOOD, MR NICE, JACK AND LILY, STANLEY ATKINS, JOE HARDY-SHARP, POLISH CHRIS – CHRIS LAUSCH, MONTY, LESLEY JAMES, THE “BIG MONEY GANG”,CAMPAIGN TO LEGALISE CANNABIS INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION 1992, BANGED UP, HOWARD MARKS, MR NICE 1997, THE LEGALISE CANNABIS ALLIANCE (LCA) 1999, TRAVELLING HIGH, NOL VAN SHAIK’S SPANISH COMPLEX, CAMPAIGN GROUPS DURING AND AFTER THE LCA, METHODS OF CONSUMPTION, TYPES AND SOURCES OF CANNABIS, RECREATIONAL OR MEDICAL, CANNABIS ABROAD, HOLLAND AND THE NETHERLANDS, SPAIN, PORTUGAL, IRELAND, GERMANY, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, GREECE, ITALY: SICILY, MOROCCO, INDIA, OTHER COUNTRIES, THE BAD STUFF, GROW YOUR OWN, CANNABIS PROTESTS, HEADSHOPS, SMOKEY BEARS PICNICS, RALLIES AND MARCHES, COFFEESHOPS, BYE BYE, ADVICE ON ARREST, HUMAN RIGHTS, A CHRONOLOGY OF CANNABIS

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0GBZ325K5

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1919212930

With thanks to Mars Bilters for the front cover image

Time For Cannabis - The Prison Years: 1991-1995 Paperback

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0993210767 

The author was arrested for cannabis and sent to prison for ten years. This book reflects his personal experience and serves as a valuable comparison of prison regimes, how prison can damage and how prison can repair. HMP Norwich, Cardiff, Whitemoor and Blantyre House 1991 to 1995.

Facebook closed down my book about my arrest, trial and imprisonment for cannabis conspiracies

 Facebook closed down my book about my arrest, trial and imprisonment for cannabis conspiracies
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/0993210767/ 

Facebook closes page for book about prison for cannabis: Time for Cannabis The Prison Years

 Facebook has closed down the page for my book saying it is against their community standards.  The page does not encourage the use or sale of any substances deemed illegal to possess under UK law.

The book is available on Amazon https://amzn.to/4eXOjok  and all Amazon sites

also on Kindle
https://www.amazon.com/Time-Cannabis-Prison-Years-1991-ebook/dp/B015E1RCIC/

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Time-Cannabis-Prison-Years-1991-ebook/dp/B015E1RCIC/

Freedom Within: Prem Rawat Speaks to Inmates at Twin Towers

Taken From Time For Cannabis The Prison Years 1991 to 1995 ISBN 978-0993210761: INTRODUCTION

 Taken From Time For Cannabis The Prison Years 1991 to 1995 ISBN 978-0993210761

Her Majesty's Prison Service serves the public by keeping in custody those committed by the courts. Our duty is to look after them with humanity and help them lead law-abiding and useful lives in custody and after release.

INTRODUCTION

This book is not meant to be humorous, although a certain amount of humour is unavoidable, partly because of the nonsense and inconsistencies that I came up against during my time served, and partly because sometimes it hurts so much that one has to either laugh or cry. I fully intend to criticise the prison and the court systems, but not, I hope, unnecessarily, and, I also hope, positively. 

This is not meant as a horror story, a fiction, or an analytical work, although I will admit in advance to colouring and flavouring events, changing names, and interspersing actual events with thoughts of the occasion. This is to increase the readability of what might otherwise be a very 'flat' book, considering the flatness of the system. 

I consider myself very fortunate, even in this experience, as I have previously travelled to many different countries, and witnessed the different languages and customs therein, which I feel has enabled me to adopt a more detached and somewhat enlightened attitude to the strangeness which I constantly experienced. 

Many inmates are either the well learned ‘old lags’ who have been in and out of the system for years, or else are younger and more naive. I was also fortunate to have already received an education, thus being able to further it using the institution's facilities and classes, able to write and read easily, unlike many of my comrades, and thus help the time pass easily and productively. 

I was also fortunate enough, for want of a better phrase although it may sound as selfish as it is, to have first arrived at a prison along with some acquaintances, and to recognise a few faces already there who I could turn to for help with day to day life. 

Once again I sympathise greatly with the young, scared and lonely convict or detainee. 

Although it is only natural that I feel some anger and resentment against the way I have sometimes been treated, in particular by the courts, this emotion has never overwhelmed me. 

I see so many things wrong with the world that Mankind has created, not least the way in which selfish and greedy individuals have polluted our beautiful planet and continue to do so, perhaps to the point of no return and the devastation of possibly all life. I fail to see how the Governments on this world, who often seem to me to be evil, can allow the future to develop in this way, ruining the chances of happiness and health for their descendants. 

In the sixties I grew up under the constant threat of nuclear devastation imposed by individuals so many miles away, whose identities would never be known to most of us. But this being bad enough, at least there was a chance of survival. 

As the sixties have become the nineties there are so many problems in this world, any one of which will destroy us as individuals or as a race, including Aids, acid rain, radiation poisoning, the 'Greenhouse Effect', the ozone depletion, the pollution of the air, sea and land, space junk, chemical additives in our food and water, and on and on and on. Add to this unemployment and the violence shown on TV, in video’s and in the press, to the point of saturation and ‘normality’, and it is less surprising what is happening on our streets. 

It has been said that by the age of twelve the average American child has witnessed several thousand murders on the screen, and doubtless a similar figure is true for British children. In the East they say life is cheap, and death is all around, and certainly it seems that in many countries where overpopulation has become such an everyday burden, there are constantly civil wars or violent freedom fighters whom the various governments call terrorists. But do the governments and industrial bosses realise the terror which they daily cause us in our lives, through their greed? Is it surprising there is so much violence and crime in the country? Advertising is a strange practice to apply to people who are unable to afford the goods or services advertised, and although increasing sales amongst the select few, causes nothing but unsatisfied desire amongst everyone else. 

Consider this story. It concerns a village deep in the heart of the Egyptian desert near Libya. I forget the name, but that is unimportant. 

This small oasis settlement had been there for hundreds if not thousands of years, the locals content to grow what they could, and keep their livestock. In years past they may even have profited from accommodating the occasional traveller. They were certainly unlikely to attract any tourists, unless some big archaeological discovery was ever made. Being short of power, having no electricity and little means of producing it, they were unlikely to attract much big industry. The locals remained poor people, but never starved. They were basically content, having what they needed and most of what they wanted. This is the point: they had most of what they wanted, or rather most of what they knew about that they could want. Of course they may have wanted a better doctor, a panacea, a magic carpet, but these were merely dreams. One day however, one of the locals had to traverse the desert to Cairo, for personal reasons. Suddenly, instead of being surrounded by friends and sands, he found himself in a huge city, some fifteen million souls, tall buildings, thousands of cars, buses, trucks, bicycles, people in all style of dress, restaurants, businesses and even more foreigners than the population of his home village. 

What did he see? Advertising. 

Somehow he managed to get hold of a television, battery operated, and having been shown how to work it, he took it home with him. Fortunately, or maybe not so, they could pick up signals in the village and they were able to watch films, news and documentaries about a country and a world they never new existed. The children and young men were, of course, able to watch too. And what did they see? Advertising Young mini-skirted girls drinking cola, cowboys with their special cigarettes, the blond bombshell in the tight jeans, the fast car and the gorgeous lady who went with it, watches, stereos, holidays, household appliances and magical gadgets, and so on. 

So, what happened to their simple needs and desires? They multiplied out of all proportion. They wanted all these things too, but of course they had no money so they could only dream on in frustration. Until one day three or four young men themselves set off to Cairo, where the streets were paved with gold and one could make enough money to buy some of the well and ‘successfully’ advertised wares. Unfortunately when they got there they found not thousands but millions of people in the same position, unemployment ridiculously high, the city impersonal and apparently uncaring, and their chances of even getting enough food for tomorrow rapidly dwindling. But not everybody was poor. Some people had cars, wore expensive watches and clothes, and drank cola, and presumably had many more modern goods to make their lives apparently easier and happier. So what did our young and impressionable brothers do? They stole. They broke into a house and took what they could. Unfortunately these men were nothing of the professional burglar, knew nothing of finger prints and forensics, and were soon caught. The result? Four more inmates in the hell hole of Cairo prison. Once again the advertising agents had done their job well, convincing the people that they needed the junk they had to sell! 

Of course the situation in Britain is not as extreme, but nevertheless it is surely obvious that if one successfully creates an intense desire for something, in the minds of often uneducated and impressionable people, in a time of unemployment when their cash is hard come by, at the same time blasting them with crime on the TV, something somewhere is going to give. A percentage of them, being unable to earn an honest buck, will hit the streets, either taking what they want through robbery and theft, or dealing in drugs or stolen property, prostitution, or any of the many other ways of getting a ‘few readies’. 

This is why the prisons are so full. Add to that the people who drink and drive, maybe take drugs steal to get money for their next hit to lift them out of their boredom and fears, everybody taxed beyond what they can afford, and the prison population begins to overflow. Having stated that as my beliefs as to why so much crime occurs, I now have to say that this was only a very minor cause of my conviction. 

I will not in this book, attempt to discuss my personal level of guilt or innocence, but I would like to stress the view I had of my offences at the time. The charges against me were concerned with cannabis, a so-called drug. I had consumed it for a number of years, and met untold people in nearly every country I ever visited, smoked with young and old, people new to it and those who had smoked very heavily for very many years, for social, recreational and also ‘spiritual’ purposes, 

I did not and do not understand why it remains illegal! In its pure natural forms it certainly seems to have done me no harm, or anyone I have met. No matter how much one consumes there is no danger for a reasonably balanced person. It has been said that the fatal dose is two kilos, dropped on the head from a great height! There is no heavy withdrawal, no side effects. The real problems are that it is often cut with possibly damaging impurities, ranging from sawdust to barbiturates, solvents to boot polish and even cow shit, by the less than scrupulous illegal suppliers; that it is normally mixed with the legal and deadly poisonous tobacco; and that it remains illegal and therefore in the control of the underworld. The so-called controlled drugs are controlled not by the Government, who should concern themselves with the lack of purity of consumables, but by crooks. 

Added to this are the many acclaimed medical benefits of cannabis to sufferers of ailments such as multiple sclerosis, glaucoma, asthma and arthritis, its pain-killing properties, and relaxing properties, and the uses of the plant or hemp, for the non-polluting manufacture of paper, linen, rope, all the old maps, Bibles, sails, ropes etc were made from hemp. Its use as a food supply (seeds crushed to make gruel are highly nutritious) for humans and animals, and its use as a clean, renewable (two crops a year) and highly efficacious fuel, cannabis is probably the most versatile God-given substance on earth! Of course, it makes some people apparently lazier, but not all, and many of these become more creative even if only privately. 

There is a vast amount of music and art forms produced under the effect of cannabis. About 5% of the population admit to having used it regularly, and in private a great many barristers and other professional men. In private a great many individuals agree that it should be legalised, but are, like the majority of people living under Nazi control who witnessed the inhumane treatment of the Jews, too afraid for their own careers, and freedom, to speak out. The anti-legalisation lobby seems to be left, nowadays, with the completely unfounded statement that it ‘leads to other drugs’. True, 95% of hard drug users confess, when asked in a weighted question, that their first illegal substance was cannabis. But only 5% at most, of cannabis users ever take hard drugs. It is rather like using the argument that 99% of convicted armed robbers admit to owning water pistols as children, to bring about the prohibition of possession and sale of water pistols! 

Meanwhile, whilst those in authority and positions of respect usually remain silent, and the various campaigns for legalisation are left in the hands of often unemployed and outcast folk who have little or no experience of organisation, thousands of users and dealers remain in prisons, and millions risk their health by consuming street ‘crap’. Let’s face it, even with the risk of incarceration, people still use it and will continue to use it, and continue to line the pockets of crooks, so it is really time that some government opened its own eyes, legalised it, took control of quality, gained revenue through taxation, and saved the time of police, courts and prisons. 

So, having said that, why was it suddenly made illegal in the 1920's? Some political reasons? Strange how the banning of cannabis and hemp suddenly created a vacuum in the supply of ropes and fabrics, shortly before the industrial giants put nylon on the market, and the huge petrochemical companies marketed their synthetics and polluting alternatives. I sometimes wonder if there was a connection. 

I am not trying to excuse breaking the law. The law is the law, right or wrong, and the country cannot survive without laws. Judge Pickles, himself an advocate for the legalisation of all drugs, was correct when he said that people should not be allowed to pick and choose which laws to keep and which laws to break, that sort of freedom would be disastrous. Neither should such offenders be given leniency. In prisons there are many who would legalise all sorts of unpleasant things which they have been incarcerated for. 

Yet it is true, in the case of the suffragettes and also the homosexuals, who sought to change the law by breaking it, that it can eventually lead to publicity and success. I would, however, stress that very many people with similar experiences to me, never had any intention of hurting anyone, and mostly have never broken any other laws. Their preference for cannabis over alcohol and sedatives, has, nonetheless, resulted in their doors being kicked in, humiliating strip and personal searches, hours of solitude in filthy police cells and extended interviews often interspersed with secret threats and insults, confiscation of assets, collapse of businesses or careers, long periods in prison equivalent to sentences for armed robbery and often greater than for rape offences, and general alienation from their families, friends and society in general. 

Why? All because they wanted to get high! Cannabis is used in prisons probably more than on the outside. The staff, I have been told more than once by members of that elite group, tend to turn a blind eye: it keeps the inmates quiet. 

So, back to this book, like I say it is not the place to discuss guilt or innocence. 

Although I can hardly avoid ‘having a dig at the system’ and those who perpetuate it, that is not my purpose. Rather I want to present the prisons through my eyes, the eyes of an educated and travelled, non-criminally minded, and, as those who know me will agree, harmless forty year old male from Wales.

I felt that by helping to organise contacts and introductions between suppliers and customers, I was helping people by enabling them to get a clean supply, by keeping them away from alcohol, hard drugs, and the dreadful tranquillisers and sedatives, benefited people. 

Educated as a scientist at university, I was taught to examine the facts for myself, and not to blindly accept everything I was told. 

This is all I ask of you the reader, to consider the evidence with an open mind; those who accept orders and laws without question are the true fascists. 

The book is divided into four sections: the first will cover the nightmare of remand in custody. The three prisons which I entered were category B, a maximum security, and a low security C category. I was on wings separated from the so-called vulnerable prisoners, as we call them, ‘nonces’, guilty of horrendous crimes which should not ever be even imagined.  

Amongst the prisoners with whom I lived the hatred of the nonces was universal. 

As for the others it seems that the longer the sentences the more respect the inmates had for each other. A man two or more years into a ten or twenty year sentence has an entirely different attitude towards his surroundings than a short-timers who is only ‘passing through’. 

The main problems for the long-timers are the poor living conditions, being isolated from family and friends, and institutionalisation. Frustration and helplessness, anger at the treatment of self and others, an authoritative hypocrisy, are what causes violence amongst these men. This book is an attempt to portray what I saw and felt at the time.

 

Out of Joint - 20 Years Campaigning for Cannabis

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Books by Alun Buffry, on Amazon and Kindle

 

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BOOKS

ALLA ABOUT MY HAT on Amazon

THE EFFIE ENIGMA on AMAZON

DAMAGE AND HUMANITY IN CUSTODY on Amazon

INSIDE MY HAT AND OTHER HEADS on Amazon

MYHAT IN EGYPT on Amazon

TIME FOR CANNABIS THE PRISON YEARS on Amazon

OUT OF JOINT on Amazon

Lockdown, locked up, locked in - we are not

When you are locked up", you are locked in, you cannot get out until somebody opens the door from the outside despite whatever happens - unless of course you can break out. That could be a few hours in a police cell or a lifetime in a prison

When a prison or other institution goes into lockdown, nobody can get in or out until the lockdown ends - nobody.

In our present "lockdown'. thousands of people are flying into the UK every day, people can go out for excercise, shopping, work' people can travel in cars, on buses and trains; those with gardens can sit in them; people can use phones, skype, WhatsApp, Zoom and emails and internet - they can send and receive letters, order on line and take deliveries .... they can do so many things in their homes with the families or alone, they can cook, drink, watch TV at will

We are not really in a lockdown but we are restricted in our movements, said to be to protect ourselves and others from this virus.

Imagine being in prison, locked up, during this lockdown, or without this lockdown.

Having been through both, i choose this type of lockdown any day

Books by Alun Buffry

All available on Amazon and most on Kindle

ISBN 9780993210716

ISBN 9780993210792

ISBN 9780993210778

ISBN 9781508420211

ISBN 9780993210761

ISBN 9781533026224

ISBN 978196310704