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The prisoner

Peter Wayne tells how Punky buried his mother and smoked a heroin-laden joint

By Peter Wayne   February 1998

When was it? The Friday before Christmas. The workshops at Lindholme prison had just been shut for the “holiday” period. Relieved to have a few days off, I returned to Ensign wing, wearily threw my kitbag on to my bunk and wandered off down the corridor to see my best friend Keith, aka Punky, a rugged, volatile, Lancastrian villain with a serious but endearing speech impediment, a chaotic heroin habit and a heart of gold. When we first met we had argued and fought; but after the initial explosion we grew to like each other and even raised an abandoned…

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