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Twenty One Years outside Her Majesty’s Shithole

MBA graduation photograph

I bear no grudges, nor do I quarter those that hold their grudges against me. I spent 15 and a half years behind bars, the great majority inside maximum security, and on the day I was released on 28 November, 1998… I was let out of a prison van in the middle of the city centre as the newspaper ran a story about me in some beat up about the death penalty.

Nobody waited for me on my release at the prison gate. Nobody felt it was important enough to visit me for what accounted to a seven and a half year stretch through the middle of my sentence. So if anybody expects loyalty, friendship or some sort of obligatory finger-fuck… go read your fantasy novels. I owe nobody anything. I did my time, I survived… and I have prospered.

And I do know what’s pissed a lot of people off about my life over the last 21 years. It’s simply the issue that I’ve done just fine. I spent a decade at university achieving a Bachelor of Computing and a Master of Business Administration (with a specialisation in Journalism and Media Studies). My average mark across both degrees was exactly 80 per cent… High Distinction. I was on the Dean’s Honour Roll for Excellence in my undergraduate degree. Apparently the word on the street was that I was below average intelligence… so don’t believe everything people write or say about you. Bullshit walks, as they say. I’ve had a long list of people take credit for my demise without ever leaving their safe little bunker. I remember Chopper asked me one time, “why do you keep treading on the ants?” It was a habit I had. That I no longer have.

It’s also pissed people off that over the last 21 years I’ve been in quite safe long-term relationships. I eat great food, love wine and make pretty good beer (and cider and mead). I live a quiet but good life. I don’t use my qualifications, but they are there and it’s made me a more rounded interesting multicultural and literate human being. At the same time, I wouldn’t go knocking at my door to bring trouble. That would be a bad idea. But I really have no desire to be famous or have great adventures. My great adventures are behind me. I’m now 55 years of age. The young can go make legends of themselves and do their own bad deeds.

Yes, after university I dropped out. So what?! The econonomic structure of my relationship has nothing at all to do with anybody. There was a Global Financial Crisis along the way. So, no, I’m no longer a web developer or a usability/accessibility expert. Even though I probably wouldn’t find it hard to rekick that career. Am I broke? No. Do I want for things? No more than the average punter, but no. I’m pretty much alright keeping to myself and living a life that I enjoy.

Do I feel like a cunt for going to prison? No. Because I did my time in full and that’s the way it goes. And then there’s the dishonesty in the evidence that was presented against me. The lies of people invested in my conviction. So, no. I don’t feel bad. It was an event in my life that ended.

The best one can do in life is get rid of ALL the cunts and the people who would bring you down. Give them cowbells, push them away, crush the memories that made them people in your mind. Be yourself. Find people who like you for all you bring to the World. All that.

Today marks 21 years outside Her Majesty’s Prison Risdon. And I survived. And I survive. Against all predictions, expectations and bad wishes. So if you don’t like me go fuck yourself. I have wine. Deal with it.

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About the Author

Steven Clark Steven Clark - the stand up guy on this site

My name is Steven Clark (aka nortypig) and I live in Southern Tasmania. I have an MBA (Specialisation) and a Bachelor of Computing from the University of Tasmania. I'm a photographer making pictures with film. A web developer for money. A business consultant for fun. A journalist on paper. Dreams of owning the World. Idea champion. Paradox. Life partner to Megan.

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