From the outside, it is easy to say that the convict Charles Bronson is an
intimidating thug with doubtful sanity. After reading this ghost-written
autobiography, I would say this statement barely scratches the surface. Robin Ackroyd,
the ghost-writer, has visited Bronson
in jail for several years and has built up a picture of the man, although
the book is written as if Bronson were directly addressing the reader,
which makes it rather uncomfortable.
It is difficult to present the story of notorious criminals. The sleeve
boasts that Bronson has “great warmth and humour,” moreover he hasn’t
actually killed anyone (and his humour consists of describing sex acts he
would like). Explanations of his criminal behaviour are limited to
concluding that he was a little messed up at the time, and whilst he had a
stable upbringing he used to break bottles over his head as a boy when he
couldn’t find people to attack. It appears this man is not a product of
the system.
There is a trend for publishers to cash in on the public’s fascination
with villains. These stories are usually rather predictable and well
stocked with clichés – them and us, my mum is wonderful and things was
better in them days. These men are largely parasitic vampires who
terrorised their “own,” stole with both hands and hid behind a dubious
veneer of charitable works (revealed, in the Krays’ case, as being another
scam, as they kept all the money raised for good works). There is an odd
mentality in these books which may appeal to readers who are weak in the
head. In his book Mad Frank, Frankie Fraser even refers to criminals as
being on the straight and narrow, while members of his family with honest
jobs have ‘gone wrong.’
This book is only different in that Bronson was not part of a gang and
hurt comparatively few people before he was jailed (initially for seven
years for armed robbery, which was extended to over 20 years for various
violent crimes inside), but it is a mistake to claim he is a victim. He
could not serve his time without taking hostages, starting riots or
maiming people. He proudly mentions that he has taken a dozen blows for
every time he has punched a warder – it doesn’t take a genius to see why
he is penned in and not allowed anything solid which may be used as a
weapon (his cell furniture is made of compressed cardboard). That he is
escorted by up to 12 prison guards in riot gear when exercising, and is
only allowed to do so in a tight pen topped with razor wire, shows how
dangerous this man is.
This is a frightening book. Typically, Reg Kray has written the foreword,
explaining how violent criminals like himself should be released so they
may help the community, raise money for sick children, nurse ill puppies
etc. The ghostwriter – who also pens a chapter about his visits – presents
Bronson with a certain amount of awe-inspired respect. I feel this is
mistaken. While he holds the prison record for doing press-ups (1,700 in
an hour) and comes across as being a complete predator, he represents
something entirely base in the human character – the man capable of great
evil who starts holding grudges if he isn’t allowed to get away with it.
Reviewed by Chris Wood
