Wilt on High by Tom Sharpe

control” means having child killers castrated by other prisoners, I can assure you you’re not up-to-date with contemporary regulations. Now then, about Top Security.’
    ‘Nothing to worry about there, sir. They’re all sleeping like babes.’
    ‘Odd,’ said the Governor. ‘If there was going to be an attempted breakout you’d think they were bound to be involved. You’re sure they’re not shamming?’
    ‘Positive, sir,’ said Blaggs proudly. ‘The first thing I did, sir, by way of a precaution, was to lace their cocoa with that double-strength sleeping stuff.’
    ‘Sweet Jesus,’ moaned the Governor, trying to imagine the consequences of the Chief Warder’s experiment in preventive sedation if news leaked out to the Howard League for Penal Reform. ‘Did you say “double strength”?’
    The Chief Warder nodded. ‘Same stuff we had to use on Fidley that time he saw the Shirley Temple film and went bananas. Mind you, he’s not going to get a hard-on after tonight, not if he’s wise.’
    ‘But that was double-strength phenobarb,’ squawked the Governor.
    ‘That’s right, sir. So I gave them double strength like it said. Went out like lights they did.’
    The Governor could well believe it. ‘You’ve gone and given four times the proper dose to those men,’ he moaned, ‘probably killed the brutes. That stuff’s lethal. I never told you to do that.’
    Chief Warder Blaggs looked crestfallen. ‘I was only doing what I thought best, sir. I mean those swine are a menace to society. Half of them are psychopathic killers.’
    ‘Not the only psychopaths round here,’ muttered the Governor. He was about to order a medical team into the prison to stomach-pump the villains Blaggs had sedated, when the warder by the phone intervened. ‘We could always say Wilson poisoned them,’ he said, ‘I mean, that’s what they’re terrified of. Remember that time they went on dirty strike and Mr Blaggs here let Wilson do some washing up in the kitchen?’
    The Governor did, and would have preferred to forget it. Putting a mass poisoner anywhere near a kitchen had always struck him as insane.
    ‘Did the trick, sir. They come off dirtying their cells double quick.’
    ‘And went on hunger strike instead,’ said the Governor.
    ‘And Wilson didn’t like it much either, come to that,’ said the warder, for whom the incident evidently had pleasant memories. ‘Said we’d no right making him wash up in boxing gloves. Proper peeved he was –’
    ‘Shut up,’ yelled the Governor, trying to get back to a world of comparative sanity, but he was interrupted by the phone.
    ‘It’s for you, sir,’ said the Chief Warder significantly.
    The Governor grabbed it. ‘I understand you have some information to give me about an escape plan,’ he said, and realized he was talking to the buzz of a pay phone.But before he could ask the Chief Warder how he knew it was for him, the coin dropped. The Governor repeated his statement.
    ‘That’s what I’m phoning about,’ said the caller. ‘Is there any truth in the rumour?’
    ‘Any truth in the …’ said the Governor. ‘How the devil would I know? You were the one to bring the matter up.’
    ‘News to me,’ said the man. ‘That is Ipford Prison, isn’t it?’
    ‘Of course it’s Ipford Prison and what’s more, I’m the Governor. Who the hell did you think I was?’
    ‘Nobody,’ said the man, now sounding decidedly perplexed, ‘nobody at all. Well, not nobody exactly but … well … you don’t sound like a Prison Governor. Anyway, all I’m trying to find out is if there’s been an escape or not.’
    ‘Listen,’ said the Governor, beginning to share the caller’s doubts about his own identity, ‘you phoned earlier in the evening with information about an escape plot and –’
    ‘I did? You off your rocker or something? I’ve been out covering a burst bloody bulkloader on Bliston Road for the last three bloody hours and if you think I’ve had time