The shit slapped against the side of the actor’s face before he’d even turned to see who had yelled, the faeces hitting him with force. Jax saw the man stop and turn back, start to head back to where he’d come from, but a guard pushed him forward as the group of inmates roared their approval. From where he was sitting, Jax couldn’t see the whole scene, but he thought it looked like the actor was trying to negotiate with the guard – his hands were gesticulating dramatically. Jax figured once you’d been a performer, it was hard not to continue to play the part.

The guard pointed towards the maximum-security prisoners, now a heaving, unruly mass of limbs and flesh whaling on the fence. Some seemed to be attempting to scale it, even though they would get no higher than the razor-wire. Others tried in vain to reach through the gaps, their fingers outstretched, nails ready to scratch. The man remained beyond their reach, but the wire fence didn’t prevent them from ejecting the urine they’d collected in their empty milk cartons into his face or at his torso, nor did it prevent them hurling cartons of excrement over the fence and onto his head.

Jax was certain that this was against regulations, that confrontations such as these were supposed to be avoided. It was clearly a set-up, he realised, as he watched the rest of the guards – both on the path and in the yard – stand back and watch as the hive of men erupted with bloodlust. The officers had done more than just manufacture the scheduling clash, Jax mused. They must have also told a couple of D-Block heavies that the famous actor – now a convicted paedophile – would be escorted across the yard at 9 am on that very morning.

The actor was shouting inaudibly and shielding his head as a urine-filled milk carton crashed into his shoulder and burst, splashing the liquid all over his face.

‘Fucking paedo,’ screamed the inmate who’d hurled the carton over the fence. ‘Welcome to Long Bay, ya cunt.’

The officer gave the sex offender a shove after copping some stray urine himself. ‘Go,’ he shouted. ‘Run, you stupid fuck. Get away from me.’

So the actor ran, holding his hands over his head as he weathered the incoming storm. A couple of heavier objects were thrown over the fence – a full can of food sailed high and then dropped fast, missing the man by inches. A rock hit him hard in the back, and he stumbled, falling to his knees, as the assembled crush of men bayed for more.