‘Are there any nonces on his Wing, do you know? Only that’s a good scam. Everyone wants to do the nonces; it’s part and parcel of prison life. If Georgio can get a weapon, he can quite happily do all the nonces over. Beat the fuck out of them and then cause uproar. They’ll want him out all right, they always do. They don’t give a fuck how they’re tortured on a daily basis, but a big one with three or four mashed up at once scares them. The Sun would be climbing all over their backs for a start. Especially if we make sure they know all about it. Then we nab your man as they trundle him off the laydown.

‘That’s where the GOAD comes in,’ he finished off. ‘Good order and discipline. It’s an old antiquated rule but it can work for us in this. The GOAD is brought in when you’re classed as a disruptive influence, or in the case of nonces, for your own protection.’

‘So they could take the nonces with him then?’

Alan shook his head. ‘Not until they’re out of the hospital, love. Georgio’s got to hammer the fuck out of them, and knowing Georgio he’ll enjoy doing that. No one likes the nonces. No one. Not even the screws. That’s why he has to shit up the Governor as well. It’ll be the icing on the cake, see. Once he’s been humiliated in front of the Wing, the Governor will want Georgio out of his sight.’

Anthony nodded slowly. ‘He’ll probably get a hammering himself before he goes but it’ll be worth it. This plan’s brilliant. We knew we’d have to get him from the outside, but finding out the laydowns is nigh on impossible and the information is not always reliable, see. But this way, we have a ninety percent chance of being on schedule. I’ve never known a Governor yet swallow a shitting, have you?’ He looked around him for confirmation, and both Alan and Eric shook their heads.

Anthony grinned. ‘I done it myself at Durham, years ago though. It was such a fucking laugh! If you’d seen his face! I’m going back years now. There was a right loon on our Wing, a black bloke. Nice enough, a laugh, you know. But he was really erratic. Anyway, the screws used to bait him something chronic, and he’d throw a right paddy. Knocked the fuck out of them a few times. Well, at times like that they used to inject him with Valium or something, it was in the seventies and that was the scam then. Drug you up and knock you out, like. Well, whatever they gave him killed him. He was found in his cell . . .’