The scenes outside prisons this week verged on the farcical. As 1,700 offenders released early embraced their unexpected freedom, they spoke to reporters with a mixture of glee and depressing realism.
“I’ll be back,” said one. Another said that although he wasn’t “looking to reoffend,” you “never know.” Others praised the mass release as a “very good” policy, with one saying he was “going to get lit” – slang for intoxicated, adding that being released six months early from a two and a half year sentence had made him a “lifelong Labour voter.”
Up and down the country, friends, family and partners waited to greet those who had been liberated. They cheered them out of prison gates, sprayed them with sparkling wine, and took them off to the pub. Rap music blared from cars. The general mood was one of happy surprise. Meanwhile, police spokesmen complained that they would be left to clean up the chaos, which would inevitably include immediate reoffending.
It wasn’t a hard call.
