'You could do a cracking talent show in jail: Bars In Their Eyes,

HOWARD Marks and I are on our way to prison. Only we're not sure if they are going to let us in. It's three days after Britain's most famous literary criminal made his way from penthouse to jailhouse, and four published writers are going inside to do a reading: Marks, the world's best-selling former dope dealer; JJ Connolly, author of the superb Layer Cake; lifer-turned-writer Hugh Collins; and novelist Ben Richards.

The actor David Soul is on standby in case the prison won't allow Howard in.

For we've heard talk that the powers that be, worried that he might light up a spliff, want to turn him away, despite having previously agreed to his visit.

We are accompanied by regulars from the Vox 'n' Roll night at Filthy Mac-Nasty's, the Islington pub, where the idea to do a literary reading inside Maidstone Prison was hatched. The plot was inspired by the famously rowdy recording of Johnny Cash Live at San Quentin, explain organisers Gerry O'Boyle and Richard Thomas.

"We approached Maidstone because they have the reputation for being the most open-minded prison," says O'Boyle. "It's just a pity they seem to have changed their mind about Howard.

I think they should give him a chance."

Some of us are nervous, others curious. Conspiracy theories abound as to why Marks's permission might have been revoked. He strides up the street.

In the sunlight with some fresh air and purpose in his lungs, he looks remarkably dignified. He has this charisma and calm that make people flock to him. To the disenfranchised, the dope-smokers and the ravers, Howard Marks is a modern-day folk hero. In Bristol there's a king-size effigy of him made out of empty Rizla packets.

A guard emerges to tell us - wrongly - that we can't take photographs outside the prison. Bad vibes abound. But the doors open and we file in. Then the prison "writer in residence" Chris Savage King tells us the bad news.

Howard must remain outside. And with that we are in and Marks remains at large.

"It's ironic that they won't let me in," he says, "because this is the longest I've spent out of jail in one go since 1973."

This is my first experience of prison, although I was once arrested for the "attempted theft of a Roger Rabbit vending device" from Normanton services.

Hugh Collins - who served life for murder - is a little better acquainted with life on the inside. "I stabbed three guards while I was in prison. They had me in a straitjacket with my head down the toilet, piss in my mouth."

We are searched, we leave our mobiles and ID in lockers and are taken through to the chapel, a big old church with all the usual stuff: a painting of the Crucifixion, some Bibles, a Yamaha drum kit. Full of light and warmth and with just a dozen people inside - the rest of the prisoners have decided to boycott the event because Howard hasn't been allowed in - it looks like a rehearsal. But we begin.

After the first reading, the prisoners, in their light-blue- striped short-sleeved shirts, begin to relax a little. There are big rounds of applause. In the background Ennio Morricone soundtracks quietly fill the air.

Hugh talks about his transformation from violent offender to published writer. The audience are rapt by his tale.

"There's not much money being a writer, but there are no cops at your door. For me, fiction is a great way of getting revenge. That's what drives me. I was in jail for 26 years, my father was in for 20 years, but writing opened a door for me.

"Search out the good books. When I was inside it was all cowboy books and SAS - '100 different ways to kill a man' - but you've got to use the system to your advantage. You should write the way you speak, tell the stories. The best liars are in jail - we are liars, that's literature."

And then two prisoners take the stage.

The first is a poet, Bless-Ed, who stings us with a lively rap about turning the negative into the positive. Bless-Ed is followed by Dennis, an inmate with an acoustic guitar. He sings a beautiful song, and, like Bless-Ed, is thunderously received. I can't help thinking you could do a cracking talent show in jail: Bars In Their Eyes, perhaps.

At the end, I find deputy governor Jeff Orr somewhere between uncomfortable and relieved. "Bless-Ed's poem was very good but I was disappointed by some of the other English used in the chapel," he says. "I did appreciate the intention though." And why was Marks issued with a banning order? "Well, we have a therapeutic drug community here. We can't be seen to send one message out with the rehab programme and another by having Howard Marks here."

Copyright 2001
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