If you asked any of my hostage victims what the experience was like, I’d bet most of them would say, ‘Hell’. I don’t want to cover old territory, as that’s already been covered and well documented in my other books. So what I intend to do is to let some of my hostages speak out for themselves.

It isn’t easy being Bronson. People expect so much of you and yet, at times, I can’t give what they want. Expectations of my behaviour means that certain things are expected of me when situations like taking a hostage materialise. This is what prison can do to you; it can make you mad or make you break down. You have to have an inner resolve to get you through it.

For the ordinary prisoner, they can go and speak with a number of support staff, but what can I do when the pressure gets too much? I’ve cracked and taken a hostage or two! God knows, I’ve resisted temptation so many times.

Although my hostages may have feared for their lives when initially taken hostage, by the end of the siege they knew I wouldn’t have carried out any of what I said. That’s why I’ve included these statements from three of my hostages; these have never before been seen in print.

All of the statements have one thing in common – the hostages say that they were threatened with some sort of violence, but read each statement and you will see that nothing but the minimum of force was applied to them … they all lived to walk away from the siege. I was the one to pay for each siege with extra prison sentences being continually added on.

Although I’ve taken many more hostages than these three, I feel that these key individuals represent the effect of my thoughts and actions at the time. But all walked away in one piece; this is what duress can do to a man. That is why they were taken hostage … duress of circumstance. I was not in control of my actions and I was not in control of what was said to them, but I did my best to fight the urges and I often harmed myself rather than harm the hostages. I believe I was harming the hostages by proxy. If I was to slash my head with a broken bottle, then that saved me from doing that to a hostage; that is how much I fought not to harm them.

When you get settled into a prison and then face the threat of being moved to another prison, it can set all sorts of alarm bells ringing. You know that when you get to wherever it is that a reception committee will be waiting for you, so you do your best not to go to such a place. I do not receive the usual helping hand from the prison administration, they’ve given up on me. I am under the control of Prison Service HQ; the prison I am in has to do the bidding of the grand masters in HQ, they are just tools. I am then forced to react because of the way these orders are carried out without any compassion; you’re body belted and marched off to a van … and you don’t know where you’re going.

That is what most prisoners go through, the fear of where they are going, the fear of leaving the safe haven of the establishment that they’re in and the fear of having to make new acquaintances when they arrive at their destination. For me, when I feel another prison move is coming on, then it does cause me concern. I am being led by the blind, they do not see what I can see, they have not experienced the degradation and violence that my body has felt. This can set off a chain reaction that I have no control over, as happens with many other prisoners in the system.

The main difference between my moves and that of a ‘normal’ low-security being moved is that they are told in advance of the place they may be moved to. They may get a slip under their door at night telling them that they’re going to such and such a place tomorrow; that doesn’t happen with me. I am simply ghosted away. No warning, no nothing.

It doesn’t mean that all prisoners do not feel some sort of concern about the move. Some prisoners look forward to being moved to ‘open’ conditions and, therefore, do not mind the move … they crave the move. But some prisoners do not like certain establishments and do genuinely feel fear about the impending move and think of all sorts of devious plans to remain at the prison they are in. What devious plan can I come up with other than to resist with my physical self?

I leave you with the hostages to have the last word in this chapter, as they deserve it and here they tell you what happened.

ANDY LOVE

Crown Court, Luton

The Queen v Charles Bronson

Charles Bronson is charged as follows:

Count 1

Statement of Offence: False Imprisonment

Particulars of Offence: Charles Bronson on the 26th day of May 1993 assaulted and unlawfully and injuriously imprisoned Andrew George Love and detained him against his will.

Handwritten letter from Andy to someone he calls ‘Sweetheart’:

Sweetheart,

Thanks for your message – it really helped. And thanks to Mary [can’t make out name … Marje?] for being with you.

I’m OK except that they’re not feeding us or telling us what’s going on. This may go on for some time but I don’t think I’m in any immediate danger – I know lots of people are working for me, somewhere. Keep the kettle ready. I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether or not to tell my mother or anyone else. There’s news on Horizon every hour.

I’m thinking of you and XXXX and love you both, keep strong and stubborn.

Love you,

Statement made on 28 May 1993 by Andrew George Love:

I am employed by Buckinghamshire County Council in the position of Librarian at Woodhill Prison, Milton Keynes, and have been so since July 1992 when the prison opened. Most of the inmates are able to go to the Prison Library and select their own books. There are about ten units that are not able to attend the Library for various reasons; one such unit is the segregation unit which is really a punishment wing. I then select some 300 books, place them on a trolley and take them to these units for the prisoners to select.

On the morning of Wednesday, 26 May 1993, I went to the segregation block with my trolley of books, arriving at about 9.30am. I parked the trolley by the Good Order and Discipline part of the prison. Officers would bring one prisoner at a time to the trolley where they would exchange books.

At about 9.50am, Charles Bronson came through the gate leading to the exercise yard and the officer was just locking the  gate when the prisoner Bronson approached me quickly from behind and placed me in a strangle-hold with his right arm. It was on very securely and constricted my throat; it was locked against his left forearm which was behind my head; I was having trouble breathing.

He said something to the effect of, ‘Don’t do anything silly and you will be OK … if you try anything silly I will snap your spinal cord.’

This was spoken in a quiet, rational way. I knew what a strong, powerful man he was and was aware of his reputation. I had no doubt that he meant his threat and I was in fear of my life. I was terrified.

He began moving me towards his cell which was situated on the ground floor. I recall Bronson saying, ‘This is a hostage situation.’ I can’t recall a lot in those split seconds until he got me in the cell and banged the door. I was in a state of shock. He slammed the cell door shut with his boot. I was still in a head lock. He took me over to the back of the cell. He said, ‘I am going to sit you down on the chair. I want you to be quiet and stay there.’ This I did.

He stood behind me, still having me in the strangle lock. He shouted out that he wanted to see the Governor. I am a bit confused as to the order of things. I recall him saying he would snap my spinal cord if his demands were not met. He asked for someone to write down his demands. He made numerous threats on my life. I remember Prison Officer Sarah Irvine turning up as negotiator and speaking to Bronson.

After five or ten minutes, Bronson released me from his grip. He did not grab hold of me again throughout tie siege. His demands started off at a blow-up doll, and a cup of tea for both of us.

He made continued threats to the prison officers outside that he would snap my neck and kill me, but this seemed to be for their benefit mainly and was directed to them.

As time went on – I do not know what time, I do not wear a watch – he said that he would not harm me, but this was after several hours of me being in the cell.

He went into a number of rages when he thought negotiations were not going his way; at these times my anxieties increased. He made unreasonable demands at these times for a helicopter,  gun and bullets. He seemed to have a number of grievances about the time he had spent in solitary confinement and the denying of visits.

But he really just seemed lonely and wanted company, and was concerned as to the possible outcome of his forthcoming trial. He encouraged me to write a couple of letters later on. This I did. I wrote one letter to my wife exhibit AGL/1 and one to Sue Shilling, a prison Governor, whom we had heard speaking on the Horizon radio as Bronson had a radio playing in his cell.

I was very intent on not showing Bronson that I was frightened and tried to build up a relationship with him. This was fairly easy, as he knew me from my library job. Towards the end of the siege, I feel that I understood his position and I believe he had built up some respect for me as I had not cracked. I believe he expected his demands to be met.

At the end of the siege, it was arranged that I would go to the cell door, he would stay at the back, I would be released and he would be given a rub-down search and then moved to another cell.

Just before the cell door opened, he shook my hand, apologised to me and told me I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The cell door opened and I was released. I was taken to the adjudication room and seen by some medics. I was later seen by a psychologist and debriefed.

I was held for some fourteen hours. In the early hours, I was terrified and frightened for my life. I really believed that if Bronson’s demands were not met, he would kill me. As the hours went by, I realised that this was less likely to happen. I did not consent to being taken into the cell or being kept or being kept there against my will.

ADRIAN THOMAS WALLACE

I am the above named and I am employed by the Home Office as Deputy Governor, Her Majesty’s Prison, Hedon Road, Hull. I have been engaged in this capacity at Hull for two years, three months and have worked within the Prison Service, working my way through the ranks, for about twenty-three years. My duties have taken me all around the country and, prior to my current post, I was based at the Northallerton Prison. My current position at Hull is as the Head of Operations and part of my time is spent supervising the Special Unit on A Wing.

This unit houses only four inmates. They are categorised as special prisoners and are placed on this unit because they cannot interact with the mainstream prisoners. The unit is specially contained and they are given more independence in an attempt to replace them into routine prison life.

The four prisoners on the unit are Anthony McUllagh (DoB 21/4/67), Paul Flint (DoB 21/4/64), Edward Slater (DoB 28/4/64) and Charles Bronson (DoB 6/12/52). This latter prisoner changed his name to Bronson from Michael Gordon Peterson. He has been at Hull since November 1993, previously being at Frankland Prison. Bronson is an extremely large man. He is about 5ft 11in tall but has a huge physique, like Geoff Capes. He has a shaven head and a large handlebar moustache. He is an extremely fit man, spending a lot of time working out. He is currently serving an eight-year sentence for conspiracy to rob and has spent the vast majority of his adult life inside institutions. He is presently awaiting trial for a previous incident in which he took a librarian as hostage. [The siege involving Andy Love.]

The other three prisoners are all serving life sentences but even they are frightened of Bronson. It is fair to say that I am and have been aware of his potential for being dangerous since he came to Hull.

Part of my duties, as stated previously, involve the regular visits to both staff and prisoners on this block. During the last few weeks I have been aware that Bronson has been more and more agitated as his trial approaches. I have been informed that he had spoken recently about taking a hostage, this information being passed on to me by other prison staff.

Shortly after 9.00am on Monday, 4 April 1994, I commenced my duties on A Wing. I walked into the block and everything appeared perfectly normal, just like any other Monday morning.

As I walked into the block I became aware of the prisoners filing out of the kitchen, to my left. I said, ‘Good morning,’ to them. I noticed that Bronson was at the rear of the group but as soon as he saw me he pushed the other prisoners aside and rushed at me. He grabbed me around the neck and pushed me towards the wall. Bronson was behind me with his forearm around my neck, pushing my chin up. He had come at me so quickly that I did not have time to avoid him and similarly the other prison staff did not have time to react.

Bronson held me tightly around the neck applying pressure to my throat. He shouted at the staff, ‘Don’t come near or I’ll break his neck.’ He then dragged me backwards, walking with his back to the wall, along the corridor and dragged me to the TV room (TV room 2). He threw me down in the TV room and then sat me down, telling me to put my hands behind my neck. Bronson was extremely agitated and was not in any sort of state to be questioned or upset. Bronson then began barricading the door with the tables and chairs in the TV room.

I remained sat on the chair in the middle of the room. The chair was a tubular metal chair with a thinly padded vinyl seat. Initially, I was sat facing the door of the TV room and I recall Bronson speaking through the windows with one of the prison officers, Roy Kirk. Bronson was saying that I was a bastard and that nobody liked me. He said to me, ‘If you move, I’ll kill you.’ There is no doubt that I took this threat seriously, bearing in mind the man’s history and mental instability. I was frightened, and was in a situation that was completely out of my control. Bronson was able to do anything to me.

I was dressed in a blue pin-stripe suit, brown-and-white striped shirt, tie and a pair of black shoes. Bronson was wearing dark tracksuit bottoms and a sleeveless vest and yellow-painted prison boots. He took my tie off and tied my hands together behind my back but not fastened to the chair. Bronson was still very agitated at this time and I realised that my best option was to act quiet.

Bronson punched me a few times across my right cheek and also to the back of my neck, knocking me to the ground. He dragged me back up by the scruff of the neck and put me back on the chair. Bronson was telling me I was a ‘bag of shit’ and said nobody liked me and that he was going to kill me. He was pacing around the room. He told me that he knew there would be police sharpshooters brought in and that I would be killed as well.

Bronson rifled my pockets. He took my prison radio from me and asked me how it worked. He put all the items from my pockets on to the table in front of me and then threw the items around the room and on to the floor. He took my prison keys out of my pocket and, as he took my wallet, he ripped my trousers down the right side.

He picked up my wallet from the table and began throwing the credit cards around the room and started ripping up the notes. He picked up an iron that was in the room and held it close to my face. He said, ‘I’m going to batter you with this, cunt, and stave your head in.’ It is difficult to put into words my thoughts and feelings while this was going on but I honestly felt in fear for my life.

All this that I have described took place in the first few minutes of the incident. Bronson then turned me around on the chair so that I was facing away from the door. The windows of the room were therefore behind me.

The room in which I was is about 10ft square. The chair was placed along the wall to the left about 4 or 5ft from the door. Most of the time I was sat facing the sidewall or the back wall. Bronson told me not to speak and kept pacing up and down behind me. He was kicking the furniture around and snorting. Bronson asked me how the prison radio worked and I explained to him.

About thirty minutes into the incident, Bronson told me to get on the radio. He told me what to say and I passed a message saying that he wanted us both to leave the prison together, that if there were any SAS or Royal Marines in the prison that they had better shoot us both. I told the communications room that Charlie had done jungle warfare and was not ‘fucking’ about. Bronson held the radio while I spoke into it.

I continued to sit quietly on the chair facing the TV. I was aware that Roy Kirk, the prison officer, was watching through the glass windows. I could not see Bronson but could hear him pacing up and down behind me. He told me to sit still and not to speak. Bronson turned the sound up on the TV. The station was tuned into pop music and when he turned it up it became very noisy.

Shortly after, Bronson asked for a cup of tea and he asked me if I wanted one. I told him that I did because I didn’t want to upset him any further. He shouted his request to the officers in the corridor and a few minutes later Bronson partly moved the barricade and the cups of tea were pushed through. I told Bronson that I wouldn’t be able to drink my tea with my hands tied and so he undid them. He told me, however, to keep one hand in my pocket, which I did. I expected that later he would re-tie my hands but he never did.

I had a watch on but was unable to look at it in case Bronson saw me. However, I heard Bronson talking with Roy Kirk about an 11 o’clock deadline and said that he wouldn’t hurt me until that time had elapsed, as he was a man of his word.

During the incident, although I had full sense of my faculties, I was not in control at any time. Many things went through my mind about the things Bronson could and would do. I recall at one point, which I believe was after the 11 o’clock deadline, that Bronson stood behind me, I could not tell how close he was, but I heard him unzip his trousers. My first thought was that he was going to inflict some form of sexual abuse on me but instead he urinated in a bucket. As soon as he had finished, I thought the bucket would be poured over my head and prepared myself for it, but it never came.

A few minutes later, Charlie got back on the radio. The radio had been switched on all the time and we could hear the day-to-day running of the prison continuing on it. Charlie called up saying that he wanted the prison closing down and that he didn’t want any further talk over the radio. He made some reference to having some mushrooms stolen last week, but I couldn’t make much sense of that.

Shortly after that, Charlie told me to get on the radio. He told me to ask for his blow-up doll and that he wanted it dressing up in a black skirt, black tights. I asked the communications officer to acknowledge that my message had been received, which he did. Charlie had told me to do it right and threatened me with violence if I didn’t comply.

Charlie picked up my prison security keys and asked me about them. He wanted to know which doors they fitted and said that he was going to try them on the doors. By this time, Charlie had calmed down a bit but, because he is so volatile, I thought it best not to try and engage him in any sort of conversation.

I was aware, however, that the officers outside were trying to negotiate with him and I kept my mind active by running through the procedural matters that the negotiators would be going through in order to resolve and contain the situation. I myself have been in incidents of this type before but obviously the situation is completely different when you are the hostage. I do recall thinking that I shall have the windows in the TV room replaced with glass that can be broken should the need arise. The windows are presently fitted with unbreakable glass.

A while later, again I cannot say what time, but assume it was about lunchtime, Bronson told me to call up on the radio and ask for two steak and chips, one for himself, one for me. Bronson said he wanted it in five minutes. Again, I passed this message to the communications room.

I then became aware that Bronson was becoming more and more agitated. He began pacing up and down and seemed to be working himself up. For the first time for quite a while, I became frightened again. Bronson smashed one of the chairs in the room, an armchair, and took the padded seat of the chair, he placed it across my chest, strapping it in place with a sheet which he tied behind my back.

Bronson had told me that he knew police tactics and knew that they would soon start drilling holes into the walls to listen to him and see what was going on in the room. He told me that he was going to move me. He picked me up again, grabbing me around the neck. He moved the barricade out of the way and opened the door to the room. He walked me out into the corridor, again warning the other prison officers to keep away. Bronson had me tightly around the neck and was stood behind me. I assume he had placed the chair seat on to my chest to act as some form of protection in case someone tried to shoot him.

Bronson walked me along the corridor and then dragged me into the adjoining TV room only a few yards away from the first room. Again, he barricaded the door to prevent the prison staff getting in, using two chairs and a table; however, the barricade was not as heavy as the first one.

Again, Bronson sat me down and shouted for another cup of tea, which was brought a few minutes later. I felt I had to drink it just to keep him happy. Once I’d finished it, I said to him, ‘Can I put it down?’ but Bronson snorted back, ‘No, I’m in charge!’

He started to puff and puff and snort and somebody came to the window and he shouted, ‘Fuck off. I don’t want to talk to you.’ He was becoming more and more excitable and grabbed the radio. He said he was going to come back on the radio in five minutes, that he wanted the communications room to get a tape recorder and record his message that he was going to give. He said he was going to sing a song and said he wanted it playing at his funeral. He said he wanted a copy sending to his solicitor in London.

I could sense Bronson was building himself up and expected something serious to happen. It crossed my mind that I would be killed. Minutes later, Bronson again spoke on the radio. This time he said that he knew he was going to die today and that he was prepared for it. He said he expected to be shot by a police bullet. He said he was going to sing a song, which he wanted playing at his funeral. Bronson then sang a song called ‘I Believe’, which he sang at the top of his voice.

This must have lasted for a few minutes and when he finished I thought he was going to hurt me. Bronson then started singing some Christmas carols and hymns; he picked up the TV, smashing it on the floor alongside me.

He dragged me to my feet again and walked me to the door of the room, pushing aside the barricade. He again began dragging me back along the corridor and it seemed as if he was taking me back to the first TV room we had been in.

Bronson was again behind me, walking with his back to the wall, feeling his way along as we approached the first TV room (TV 2). He shouted to the prison officers, who were stood only a short distance away, asking them about his steak and chips. One of them shouted that they were unaware that he had asked for any food.

I realised that once we got back into the first room it would be more secure than the last one, so I was reluctant to go back in it. As Bronson reached out trying to find the door handle, I felt his grip loosen around my neck, ever so slightly. As it did so, I saw my chance and pushed with my foot against the door frame knocking Bronson slightly off balance. I pushed as hard as I could and Bronson fell backwards with myself falling over with him. As we fell, he released his grip on me. We landed and I jumped straight to my feet, kicking Bronson on the body and face a couple of times. Within a second, a number of other prison officers jumped on top of Bronson and one of them took hold of me and led me away. I was taken to the command post in the Governor’s office.

I was extremely highly charged at this time and was grateful that I had been dragged away because I feel I would have done some harm to Bronson if not moved.

I went to the Governor’s office and was sat down. Everyone was very nice to me but I felt as if I was being pampered and didn’t want all the hassle. I felt I just wanted to be left alone to try and sort the many different feelings out that were going through my mind. I sat and talked the situation through and slowly started to come down from the incident.

PHIL DANIELSON

I fell to my left side on to the carpeted floor. As I fell, I hit the floor with my chin or lower part of my face causing my lower teeth to become slightly dislodged. I may have lost consciousness for a few seconds as it took me some time to focus and to realise what had happened.

I was laid on the floor behind my desk at this point completely out of view of the prison officer due to the solid area at the bottom of the wall.

My glasses had been knocked from my face but I am only slightly short-sighted and once I managed to focus I could see clearly.

I remained very still on the floor as I realised that I had been hit by Charlie. I saw Charlie stood astride me looking down at me. He was holding a knife in his right hand. I could not see the handle but saw the blade which was about 6–8in long pointing down towards me.

I then heard Charlie say, ‘Now I’ve got you, take your last breath because this knife is going in you.’

I remained very still. I was absolutely terrified. I thought Charlie was going to kill me. I didn’t dare move. I tried to appear dazed and knocked out.

Charlie then went down on one knee level with my waist and jabbed the knife into my ribs. I felt the point through my shirt but I don’t believe it went through.

Charlie then held the knife at my ribs and said, ‘You are the bastard that slagged my cartoon off.’

I made no reply to this and remained very still. I knew what Charlie was referring to. Charlie had designed a poster with various cartoons exampling ‘healthy living’. One of the cartoons was titled ‘Safe Sex’. Charlie’s example explained how gay men should use condoms to prevent the spread of diseases.

When I had seen Charlie’s poster in the education department I commented on the poster to a member of the education staff when Charlie was not present. I had felt that the poster inferred that gay men alone were responsible for spreading sexually transmitted diseases, and I did not feel that this was acceptable on a poster.

This comment had somehow reached Charlie and he had obviously taken offence at my comment.

Charlie then got up off the floor and left me but I still remained very still. Charlie then started to knock the computer equipment on to the floor, the keyboard, the terminal and the other equipment with it. Ray and Fred left the classroom very quickly. From the position I was laid in, I could see Charlie throwing the equipment around and yanking cables from the computers. At one point, a printer hit me on my legs but did not cause me any injury.

Charlie then came back over to me, stood astride me and then pulled both of my arms behind my back. He then tied my wrists together incredibly tight with the computer cable. This hurt my upper arms as well as my wrist due to the tightness.

Charlie then moved down my legs and tied my ankles together with another piece of cable. This was also tied very tightly. Charlie moved very quickly and I offered no resistance to him because Charlie was holding the knife in his teeth while tying me up and I still thought he was going to kill me.

I then saw Charlie look out of the classroom window and then bend down and pick me up. He placed me around his shoulders with my legs on one of his shoulders, my body around the back of his head and my head over his other shoulder. Charlie then carried me out into the middle of the ls.

I looked around for someone to help but I couldn’t see a single soul …

… I wasn’t too concerned because I didn’t have cell keys but on the other hand I didn’t know where the other inmates were. This I feel was an indirect threat from Charlie because Fred is well known for being a dangerous inmate.

Charlie seemed to have calmed down a little by then. He then said to me, ‘Tell you what, if we don’t get what I want, I’m gonna kill you and then I’m going to kill myself, they can carry both of us out in body bags.’

I had the feeling of absolute terror. I believed Charlie meant what he said. Charlie then said, ‘You wait here.’

Charlie then left me on my back on the table. Over the next twenty minutes, Charlie proceeded to trash the entire floor of the wing. He systematically went from room to room and smashed and turned everything over. I managed to move my head around so that I could get a good view of him.

I saw Charlie go into the kitchen, room number 1, and return with a deep freezer over his head. He then chucked it up the staircase which leads to point 29. The freezer landed halfway up the stairs and slid down to the bottom. He did the same with a cooker and other similar items and then did the same on the staircase near to the snooker table which leads to point 24. The noise was incredible.

Charlie was also making loud noises, shouting, swearing, cursing and making monkey-like noises. He was acting and sounding like a crazed madman.

It was quite clear to me that Charlie was barricading us on the 1s. Charlie used anything he could find large enough to block the stairs.

At one point he began to throw the dumbbells from the gym at the glass panels of the classroom. Charlie was unable to break these as the dumbbells just bounced off and broke from the impact.

It was then that I passed out, I think from fear and adrenalin. I don’t know how long I was unconscious for. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I don’t believe Charlie had knocked me out, I just mentally and physically gave up.

During Charlie’s moments of destruction, Charlie climbed on to a metal cupboard he had dragged out earlier, stood on it and reached up to the security camera above the snooker table and placed a block of butter over the lens.

I watched Charlie and tried to work out what he was doing. I was beginning to lose track of time. I had been on the table for a long time so I decided to speak to Charlie. I said, ‘Charlie, where are you?’ because I couldn’t see him at that time.

Charlie replied, ‘Shut your fucking mouth, speak when you’re fucking spoken to.’

To me, that was a hint he was not going to kill me yet, but at a later time.

I said to Charlie, ‘I promise I won’t speak again but hear me out on this one, will you, please, go and see if you can find my glasses ’cos I can’t see a bloody thing without them.’

I could see clearly, but I wanted Charlie to show some sympathy towards me.

Charlie replied, ‘It won’t make much difference in a bit.’

I called to Charlie, ‘Charlie, are you all right, what was that loud bang?’

Charlie replied, ‘I got hell of a shock from that thing then.’

Charlie then emerged from the kitchen looking very white and ill. He then came over, pulled up another chair and sat beside me.

I told Charlie that my legs were beginning to hurt. Charlie asked if I wanted another chair to put my feet up for a while. I told him I would, so Charlie placed another chair in front of me so that I could place my feet on it, but my ankles remained tied …

‘Charlie’, I said, ‘we must have been down here for three hours now and no bastard has even been to see if we are OK.’

This felt like a first step with Charlie, as though he and I were in this together. I was trying to build some sort of rapport/relationship with him to take the focus of him killing me away.

I then shouted up the stairs for someone to get me some cigarettes. I saw prison officer Tim come to the 2.1 gates. I shouted at him for some cigarettes and the Governor. I was getting very angry at this point, mainly through fear.

Alfie Stockman, another prison officer, then came to 2.1. I shouted the same to him and I was told he would relay my message.

During the first few hours of this incident, Charlie made two demands of me. I cannot remember which came first or at what time Charlie made the demands.

The first was to write two notes; one was a note to his girlfriend, Joyce Connor, and one was to my partner, Richard. Charlie dictated the notes to me while I wrote them. I cannot remember the contents of the notes; I only remember them being bizarre. I also cannot remember if or how they were passed out.

The second demand was for me to cut off Charlie’s ear. He was pissed off that he couldn’t go to his grandma’s funeral so he wanted me to cut it off and take it out with me and bury it with his grandma. I was horrified but so scared that I would have done it if he had made me. Luckily, Charlie forgot about this and it was never mentioned again.

After I had finished shouting upstairs, Charlie said, ‘These fucking lights are doing my head in,’ indicating the fluorescent lights. Charlie then untied my body from the chair and lifted me from the chair and replaced me back on the snooker table. Charlie then, with a snooker cue or a brush handle, I’m not sure which, proceeded to smash every light. There was glass flying everywhere but I was slightly protected by the snooker table’s overhead light. This went on for about ten minutes. I had my hands and arms covering my head and face from the glass …

… I told him I couldn’t go to the toilet because I was still tied to the chair.

Charlie came over and lifted my chair up so that I could stand with the chair still tied to me and then he moved me a couple of feet toward room 28 and then Charlie told me to pee on the floor.

Even though I was tied I managed to pee because my hands were slack enough which gave me sufficient movement. I was then returned back to point A. This procedure was the same each time I told Charlie I needed to pee.

This was a humiliating act by Charlie, especially because I was still tied and because he didn’t allow me to use a proper toilet.

There was an occasion while I was at point A when Charlie got a saucepan, poo’d in it and then threw the pan and its contents up the stairs, which I found disgusting.

I felt that I had to keep a rapport going with Charlie to try and save myself. I told Charlie that I had been deserted and then I started shouting to the prison officers upstairs. This was for the benefit of Charlie because he relished in my anger when I shouted at the prison officers because it was as though I was shouting out against the establishment, the prison and that we were in this together. This was the first glimmer of hope that I could actually do something with this situation.

Charlie then disappeared for some time. When he returned, he had a clear glass bottle in his hand similar to a Newcastle Brown bottle. He came over and stood a few feet in front of me. He held the neck of the bottle and smashed the base of it on something. I don’t know what it was.

Charlie then leant over to me and unbuttoned my shirt to my waist and then pushed my shirt and jacket apart so that my chest was exposed.

I feared that Charlie was going to cause me some serious harm with the bottle. Charlie then held the broken bottle to my chin and then to my chest. The bottle was only a few inches away from me.

Charlie made no sound, he was just staring. I was absolutely petrified. I was as scared then as I had been at the beginning when I had the knife held at my ribs.

The bottle was held at me for a few seconds and then Charlie stepped back from me. I began to then button up my shirt but was having difficulty because my hands were shaking so much through sheer fear. Charlie was stood in a very macho position with his legs astride, shoulders back with his arms by his side.

Charlie was still holding the bottle. He then, without making any sound, put the bottle to his head and scraped the jagged edge of the bottle down his bald head. Blood gushed from the cut down his face and on to his shoulders, chest and then on to the floor. I just sat there, too terrified and shocked to do or say anything.

Charlie then left without saying anything and began to wander around the floor. I tried to watch him as much as possible. I was also concerned that the cooker ring was still on and that he might harm himself or even me with it.

There was complete silence for about ten minutes and Charlie walked around.

I saw Charlie pick up a cloth from somewhere and mop his head. The cut did not appear serious. I now believe that the incident was for a dramatic effect to try and put the fear back …

… Charlie then began to sing so I joined in. He complimented me on my voice and asked me to sing a song for him. I sang, ‘You’ll never walk alone,’ and Charlie adored it. He kept asking me to sing it over and over again. The singing went on for about half-an-hour. I believe I may have fallen asleep at this point as I do not recall any significant events.

I do remember feeling as though I had been deserted, as I had heard nothing from the prison officers for some time.

Charlie then decided that we would go for a walk. I was now feeling drained, exhausted and cold and stiff from being in the same position for so long. I also told Charlie that I needed a shit but there was no way that I was going to do it on the floor.

Charlie then undid my arms and legs but kept the rope around my neck. Charlie walked ahead and led me over to the stairs near to the snooker table, point 24. I was then made to climb up the side railings of the stairs due to Charlie’s blockade preventing us from walking normally up the stairs.

Charlie went first, still carrying the spear and somehow holding on to the rope around my neck.

… Throughout the episode Charlie told me that thirty-five was his cell but I never went in.

Charlie tied me to the railings outside his cell and then he disappeared somewhere and returned a couple of minutes later with a clean mattress and a pile of about six green blankets. Charlie then threw the mattress on to the suicide net.

Charlie said to me ‘On there,’ and indicated to me to go over the railings and on to the net.

He then said, ‘Over there and sleep.’

Charlie then untied the rope from the railings and I climbed over the railings and jumped on to the net and climbed on to the mattress.

I believe Charlie’s idea was to disorientate me and torture me because I felt like I was hanging over the edge of a cliff. Charlie then tied the other end of the rope on to the netting to restrict my movement and to prevent me from getting up.

I laid on my back and looked up at the ceiling and saw that it was becoming light so I guessed it was about 7.30am. Charlie was stood leaning against the railings talking to the inmates in their cells. He spoke to them for about an hour mainly about their moves to different prisons.

I drifted in and out of sleep but I couldn’t sleep properly because I was still terrified.

I remember Alfie shouting to Charlie saying he wanted to talk. Charlie shouted back that he wanted food for the other prisoners. He never asked about any food for me, and didn’t seem concerned about me.

I faced the security camera and mouthed, ‘I’m not all right, get me out.’

After some time, Charlie jumped on to the net which jarred my neck due to being tied still. I felt like I was being treated like a dog on a lead.

Charlie untied the rope from the net and held on to it. He then told me to stick the mattress and blankets down through the edge

The only reassurance I felt was that the prison officers were at gate 2.1 and that I could be seen by a security camera which was situated at the end of the wing on the 3s.

… Julie (trained negotiator) shouted again, ‘Are you all right?’

Charlie was laid on the sofa and said, ‘You go and talk to them.’

I asked him if he meant I should go to the gate and speak to them. Charlie then had a tremendous outburst, ‘Of course I don’t fucking mean that.’

Charlie told me to go to the door while he held on to the rope around my neck and I talked through the gap of the door. I realised that I was still dealing with a lunatic.

Julie asked us how we were both doing. I told her we were fine but tired. Shortly afterwards, we heard some noise coming from outside. Charlie jumped up, led me from room 33 and into room 5.1, the wing office. He opened the window which looked out on to D Wing where the YPs (Young Prisoners) under-21 inmates were chanting, ‘Charlie, Charlie.’

I asked Charlie to stop them. I could hear them shouting, ‘Have you done him … is he dead?’ plus other similar things.

Charlie then shouted back a most unusual reply, ‘Look, you lot, do you realise what a good man this is, because I’ve just had a heart-attack and Phil has just brought me round and given me the kiss of life.’

Some shouted back, ‘Oooh.’

Charlie then collapsed on the floor in fits of laughter.

The YPs shouted to see me so I stuck my head out of the window. I heard shouts of, ‘Are you all right, Phil?’ and ‘Phil, you’re gonna get it, you’ll get your throat slit.’

Charlie then told the YPs to ‘Shut up’ and they did. I became even more fearful because I thought they might provoke Charlie into killing me.

We then went back to the gate and sat chatting for a couple of hours.

I think it was about 5.00am by now. We went back to room 33 for some time. I remember thinking about my family and home and how I was missing them and I looked at my watch and thought, ‘Five hours to go.’

We both just laid on the easy chairs looking out of the window and watching TV.

After a total of forty-four hours, I gave myself up and Phil Danielson was released to safety unharmed. He was awarded £65,000 in compensation and I was awarded a life sentence.