London Boulevard

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I learnt this in prison. Compulsive is when you do something repetitively. Obsessive is when you think about something repetitively.

Course, I learnt some other stuff too. Not as clear cut.

Not as defined.

The day of my release, the Governor had me up for a talk.

Bent over his desk, he kept me waiting. His head over papers, a model of industry. He had a bald patch, like Prince Charles. That made me feel good. I concentrated on it. Finally, he looks up, says:

‘Mitchell?’

‘Yes, Sir?’

I could play the game. I was but a cigarette away from freedom. I wasn’t going to get reckless. His accent was from up north somewhere. Polished now but still leaking Yorkshire pud and all that decent shit. Asked,

‘You’ve been with us now for?’

Like he didn’t know. I said,

‘Three years, Sir.’

He hmmp’d as if he didn’t quite believe me. Riffled through my papers, said,

‘You turned down early parole.’

‘I wanted to pay me debt in full, Sir.’

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