In my dim and distant youth, although with a big heart, I did have a penchant for travelling off the rails from time to time, which culminated in a night or two in the care of the Sussex constabulary.

It is the period we generally don’t, in my house, talk about - but I feel little shame. Having spent a couple of nights scared witless in a cell during my formative years shook me up to the point of deviating from my path, moving away from negative influences and making a life for myself, which I’m pleased to report I am very satisfied with.

Now, I’m no McVicar and my infractions occurred nigh on 30 years ago. At the time, through youthful rebellion I blamed the ‘Feds’ for my temporary detention even though it never quite felt right saying it as Hastings in those days was as far away from Hill Street Blues as is humanly possible.

Suffice to say, those couple of nights spent incarcerated were not for me. The mere thought of 20 years' ‘bird’ as the ‘screws’ smashed glass into my daily scran was enough to scare me off a life of crime, despite many I know not being as put off as I was at the time, culminating in conviction of all manner of societal misdemeanour.

A cell is a lonely, forbidding space, even for a short period of time. So I cannot fathom how habitual criminals can sleep easy. To be a lifelong criminal is generally a career path taken due to necessity, ie because you are skint, with little way out of the social deprivation you find yourself in ­— or you are greedy and enjoy the buzz of getting something for pretty much nothing as you tackle your enemies and demons. To know the door could be kicked in at any moment by the boys in blue and to constantly be looking over your shoulder is not a pleasant situation for anyone to find themselves in.

I used to visit a couple of old friends who were not so lucky and who had frequent visits to chokey for all manner of offences from violence to robbery and theft. Sadly, many of them were a product of their environments. Brought up in broken homes and abject poverty, prison was always but an occupational hazard and a destiny.

This is the one thing TV dramas get wrong: the entire process has no glamour: Being locked up against your will and waiting for a trial is challenging enough, as is the humiliation of wearing prison-issue chic.

On one trip to visit a friend at a northern prison some years ago I was forced to wait in a holding room for an hour with people who made me look posh. As you go through the 12th set of security gates, surrounded by some unaesthetically pleasing mesh fencing, you hear shouts from a gap in the prison windows. One woman, there to visit her brother, flashed her breasts at the wing to raucous cheers. We were then placed, six at a time, on a number in a building as the sniffer dog came around and did his thang. Even going to the toilet brings the sniffer dog back out of hiding.

The waiting rooms are strangely welcoming, with kids’ areas to play in as you look around at faces smiling and distraught in equal measure. Couples sit in silence as a bombshell piece of news breaks and raised voices provoke the intervention of the screws, who sit watching and waiting to pounce.

One man cries his eyes out in the corner. It turns out he was sentenced yesterday for a white-collar crime and he spent all night screaming as he was attacked by his cell mate. who has psychopathic tendencies.

So no, it was not for me. Yet I feel the threat of it is still not enough to alleviate issues such as knife and other youth crime. Now it’s true, our young get a terrible press. Most of the teenagers I know are lovely, hardworking individuals and, like adults, there are always a few who ruin the apple barrel. Maybe for first offences a night in the cells should be used as a tool for deterrence. I know after my visits I never wanted to go back, and I thank the police at the time for making it such an unappealing prospect, because it had the desired effect - despite my less than convincing swagger the next day after getting out of chokey due to yet another ‘fit up’ by the Feds.

  • Brett Ellis is a teacher