In my early twenties, only a few years ago when I was wild and reckless I met a bloke who was a Screw or a Prison Warder working at Wormwood Scrubs in Acton, London.
One Friday evening I went to a night club with a friend just outside Bristol. It was far enough away for him not to be there.
Apparently Friday night is called Grab a Granny by the men, but us ladies called it Married Men’s Friday Night Out.
Dancing to the disco music and enjoying myself a married man joined me and started to dance with me. It came to a slow dance and he whispered into my ear the usual chat up line! He asked me whether I had a boyfriend so I explained that yes and he was at HMP Wormwood Scrubs.
“Why is he there?” he shouted into my ear as by now the tempo of the music was heating up.
“Well the last man I danced with he didn’t like it”, I replied
“He’s doing time there?” he asked
“He’s there for a while before he gets moved on”, I replied.
All the time I was dancing and answering his questions.
He then quickly excused himself and left the dance floor.
Poor bugger did I frighten him away?