'The cost to society is so great it makes me dizzy'

Polly Toynbee introduces James Humphreys, the student imprisoned for
possession of cannabis and Ecstasy, who writes here from prison

James Humphreys will be out of prison next month, after a sentence that
defies common humanity or common sense. I wrote about his case a couple of
months ago not because it was extraordinary, but because it is so common.
Today he writes his own story from inside prison. He was sentenced to
twoandahalf years after police found cannabis and Ecstasy in the house
he shared with other Manchester students. Ecstasy is, absurdly, a Class A
drug with a recommended sentence of three to five years. Luckily, the
experience hasn't destroyed him, as these wry observations suggest. Nor has
it turned him into a heroin addict, which is a real danger for anyone
entering prison these days.

Manchester University is going to take him back, which is a mercy. But what
was his sentence for? Prisons are full of minor drug offenders who should
be serving community sentences. Processing one addict through the courts
and jail costs an average 36,000 yet many offenders will never get near a
treatment programme. The prison population, at 62,000, is soaring out of
control, while US research shows how every dollar spent on drug treatment
saves $7 in crime. All in all, some 48,000 has been wasted on James's case
a pretty ineffective skirmish in the "war against drugs".

"Last June I was sentenced to twoandahalf years for "possession, with
intent to supply Ecstasy and cannabis." I was taking my turn to get it for
my small group of adult, university friends and immediately took the blame
and pleaded guilty. It was my first offence and I was under 21.

What is getting me through this sentence is having supportive family and
friends, and I might have been driven completely insane if I hadn't managed
to find some humour in my situation. This can be hard at times because
prison is a relative wilderness for comedy. There is nothing funny about
people having their lives wasted. But there is plenty of irony and things
that make you go "hmmm". Sometimes my blood boils, the next minute it runs
cold. Prison is a strange, often surreal, experience and quite a culture
shock in contrast to the heavenly, chemicalfuelled university days that
landed me here.

My first experience of prison was Strangeways, which has undergone vast
improvements since the riots. For two weeks I was banged up on the
induction wing with a Moss Side gangster, and, immediately, I was learning
the art of armed robbery and how to sell drugs without being caught. Now,
after a year, I have amassed comprehensive, nefarious skills ranging from
how to steal a car and counterfeit fraud to how to get away with murder in
three easy steps. The otherwise uneventful first two weeks were punctuated
by the IRA's attempt at landscaping the centre of Manchester. I was in an
ideal position to watch the mushroom cloud from my room with a view.

I soon had a cell with a television and ensuite toilet, but room service
was terrible. The staff were rude and kept insisting on searching my
underpants for God knows what, and even wanted me to urinate into a beaker.
I've never been so insulted in my life! I'd have to award Strangeways only
two stars. Fortunately, I was only there a month, but unfortunately, I was
moved to Haverigg, which is a remote seagull colony in Cumbria. I suspect
that the area is also the site of some terrible radioactive disaster
judging by the range of morphological abnormalities sported by the local
species.

I spent some time there on a billet of smackhead Scousers, who would steal
my outgoing mail for the stamps. Many a night I fell asleep to the tranquil
sounds of them vomiting in the toilets because they had had too much "toot"
(heroin). Drugs are an omnipresent force in prison, actually cheaper and
more easily available than on the outside. It is a sorely tempting route of
escape and the source of the most violent disputes, as people get into
debt. Not even one star for Haverigg, I'm afraid.

If you are good in prison, you get to a place like the one I am at now, a
Category D prison, which is definitely fivestar. I get temporary release
in the form of home leave on a regular basis, and there is no fence to
speak of. There is even a public footpath running through the grounds. I
am a person again. I'm on Education at the moment, which completes the
illusion of prison being like boarding school, especially being woken up by
the sound of a bell (incidentally, the bloke who rings the bell is in for
ringing stolen cars). In "art and craft" I am surrounded by gangsters and
yardies, who sit there going "Bloodclot!" and "Badboy!", and calling all
women "bitches", while making cuddly toys for their girlfriends.

It still makes me angry to see so many people inside who shouldn't be. The
social ramifications and the cost to society are so great I feel dizzy just
thinking about it. I mean, when, for instance, are we going to stop
jailing people for cannabis? The only person who has died from that in
20,000 years was killed when a halfton block landed on his head. Anyway, I
have been feeling more like myself recently, as my release date approaches.
The election has especially cheered me up, mainly because my nemesis,
Michael Howard, is now powerless. I had the privilege of Anne Widdecombe
coming to see my cell on a prison visit in the dying days of the Tory
leadership, and now even she has turned on him. Perhaps there is some hope
for the human race, after all."