UK NETFLIX DARK TOURIST ATTRACTION, THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION @ LITTLEDEAN JAIL, FOREST OF DEAN, GLOS, GL14 3NL. A BRIEF EXHIBITION INSIGHT INTO THE LIFE AND DEATH OF FORMER MEMBER OF THE SEX PISTOLS SID VICIOUS ( 10 MAY 1952- 2 FEB 1979) & HIS GIRLFRIEND NANCY SPUNGEN. TO INCLUDE HERE ON DISPLAY, SID’S TREASURED LEATHER BIKER BOOTS & BIKE CHAIN BRACELET.

ABOVE: SID VICIOUS WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND NANCY SPUNGEN

BELOW IS THE POLICE MUGSHOT OF SID VICIOUS AT THE TIME OF ONE OF HIS MANY ARRESTS , BACK IN 1979, IN NEW YORK , USA.

BELOW … IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS WEARING THESE BIKER BOOTS WHILST PRANCING ABOUT IN PARIS WHILST FILMING A TV DOCUMENTARY .

ABOVE AND BELOW …SID VICIOUS PERFORMING SOLO WEARING THESE LEATHER BOOTS ON WHAT WAS HIS LAST LIVE PERFORMANCE AT MAX’S KANSAS CITY , NEW YORK ON SEPTEMBER 29 1978 … LATER TO BE REPORTED IN THE  NME DATED 14 OCTOBER 1978

SID VICIOUS PERFORMING SOLO WEARING THESE LEATHER BOOTS ON WHAT WAS HIS LAST LIVE PERFORMANCES AT MAX’S KANSAS CITY , NEW YORK ON SEPTEMBER 29 1978 … LATER TO BE REPORTED IN THE NME DATED 14 OCTOBER 1978

SID VICIOUS PERFORMING SOLO WEARING THESE LEATHER BOOTS ON WHAT WAS HIS LAST LIVE PERFORMANCES AT MAX’S KANSAS CITY , NEW YORK ON SEPTEMBER 29 1978 … LATER TO BE REPORTED IN THE NME DATED 14 OCTOBER 1978

NME CUTTING DATED 14 OCTOBER 1978 OF SID VICIOUS WEARING THESE BOOTS DURING HIS SOLO GIG AT MAX’S KANSAS CITY GIG … A GREAT RARE CLOSE-UP OF SID’S BOOTS AS WAS LAST WORN BY SID SHORTLY BEFORE HIS ARREST FOR THE MURDER OF HIS GIRLFRIEND NANCY SPUNGEN ON 12 OCTOBER 1978

PURCHASE RECEIPT FOR THE BOOTS … BOUGHT BY ANDY JONES FOR THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION AT FRASERS AUCTION HOUSE , LONDON, BACK IN 2000

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

CLOSE UP IMAGE OF SID VICIOUS BOOTS

Above are several images of Sid Vicious most treasured leather biker boots , which he can also be seen wearing in this video of him prancing about in Paris , France . in his alleged suicide note ( many believe that this was actually written by his mother Anne Beverley ) he had requested that he be buried with his leather jacket and these leather biker boots … This was never the case as he was cremated and his ashes were secretly thrown over Nancy’s grave . His mother had subsequently kept his personal clothing last worn by him and later these boots were auctioned off in the year 2000 by Alan Parker through Frasers Auctions , London . Bought by Andy Jones of the Crime Through Time Collection and now on permanent display  at Littledean Jail , Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, UK .

Original painting by Gloucestershire artist Paul Bridgman of Sid Vicious and his girlfriend Nancy Spungen  on display in and amongst our Punk Rock Collection here at Littledean Jail.

 

ABOVE IS SID’S ( NOW WELL AGED )  BIKE CHAIN BRACELET ALONG WITH IMAGE OF HIM WEARING THIS . ALSO HERE ON DISPLAY AT THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION , LITTLEDEAN JAIL .

Sid Vicious, born John Simon Ritchie, later named John Beverley (10 May 1957 – 2 February 1979), was an English bass guitarist, drummer and vocalist, most famous as a member of the influential punk rock band the Sex Pistols, and notorious for his arrest for the murder of his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen.

Vicious joined the Sex Pistols in early 1977, to replace Glen Matlock, who had fallen out of favour with the rest of the group. Due to intravenous drug use, Vicious was hospitalized with hepatitis during the recording of the band’s only studio album Never Mind the Bollocks. Accordingly, his bass is only partially featured on one song from the album. Vicious would later appear as a lead vocalist, performing three cover songs, on the soundtrack to The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle, a largely fictionalized documentary about the Sex Pistols, produced by the group’s former manager Malcolm McLaren and directed by Julien Temple.

During the brief and chaotic ascendancy of the Sex Pistols, Vicious met eventual girlfriend and manager Nancy Spungen. Spungen and Vicious entered a destructive codependent relationship based on drug use. This culminated in Spungen’s death from an apparent stab wound while staying in New York City‘s Hotel Chelsea with Vicious. Under suspicion of having committed Spungen’s murder, Vicious was released on bail; he was later arrested again for assaulting Todd Smith, brother of Patti Smith, at a night club, and underwent drug rehabilitation on Rikers Island. In celebration of Vicious’ release from prison, his mother hosted a party for him at his girlfriend’s residence in Greenwich Village, which was attended notably by the Misfits bassist Jerry Only.

Vicious’ mother had been supplying him with drugs and paraphernalia since he was young, and assisted him in procuring heroin late that night. Vicious died in his sleep, having overdosed on the heroin his mother had procured.

Less than four weeks after Vicious’ death, the soundtrack album of The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle was released. Later that year, on 15 December, a compilation of live material recorded during his brief solo career was packaged and released as Sid Sings.

In the 1986 feature-film Sid and Nancy, Gary Oldman gave a much-acclaimed performance as Sid.

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ABOVE IS AN EXCEPTIONALLY SCARCE AND RARE SIGNED BY BOTH PHOTOGRAPH OF SID AND NANCY TOGETHER .

 

BELOW IS THE ICONIC AND CONTROVERSIAL ALBUM COVER OF THE SEX PISTOLS …” NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS HERE’S THE SEX PISTOLS ” THIS BEING A FULLY SIGNED BY THE ORIGINAL PISTOLS LINE UP ON A RARE RUSSIAN VERSION OF THE ALBUM .

 

 

Nancy Spungen death and Sid Vicious arrest

Sid Vicious mugshot 9 December 1978

On the morning of 12 October 1978, Vicious claimed to have awoken from a drugged stupor to find Nancy Spungen dead on the bathroom floor of their room in the Hotel Chelsea in Manhattan, New York. She had suffered a single stab wound to her abdomen and appeared to have bled to death. The knife used had been bought by Vicious on 42nd Street and was identical to a “007” flip-knife given to punk rock vocalist Stiv Bators of the Dead Boys by Dee Dee Ramone. According to Dee Dee’s wife at the time, Vera King Ramone, Vicious had bought the knife after seeing Stiv’s. Vicious was arrested and charged with her murder.^[He said they had fought that night but gave conflicting versions of what happened next, saying, “I stabbed her, but I never meant to kill her”, then saying that he did not remember and at one point during the argument Spungen had fallen onto the knife

On 22 October, ten days after Spungen’s death, Vicious attempted suicide by slitting his wrist with a smashed light bulb and was subsequently hospitalized at Bellevue Hospital where he also tried killing himself by jumping from a window as well as shouting “I want to be with my Nancy” or other similar words, but was pulled back by hospital staff. In an interview he gave in November 1978, he said that Nancy’s death was “meant to happen” and that “Nancy always said she’d die before she was 21.” Near the end of the interview, he was asked if he was having fun. In reply, he asked the interviewer if he was kidding, adding that he would like to be “under the ground.” It was also at Bellevue that he met his lawyer James Merberg, who did everything he could to keep Vicious out of jail.

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 SID VICIOUS SUICIDE BY OVERDOSE

 

On the evening of February 1, 1979, a small gathering to celebrate Vicious having made bail was held at the 63 Bank Street, New York apartment of his new girlfriend, Michelle Robinson. Sid and Michelle had started dating in November after Sid was released from Bellevue Hospital the previous October. Vicious was clean, having been on a detoxification methadone program during his time at Rikers Island. At the dinner gathering, however, Sid had some heroin delivered by his friend, English photographer Peter Kodick, against the wishes of Sid’s girlfriend and some other people at the party. It was also during this party that Sid had apparently spent the hours looking towards the future; he had plans for an album he was going to record to get his life and career on track should he be off the hook. Vicious overdosed at midnight, but everyone who was there that night worked together to get him up and walking around in order to revive him. At 3:00 am, Vicious and Michelle Robinson went to bed together. Vicious died in the night and was discovered dead by Anne and Michelle early the next morning.

In his first interview, appearing in the Daily Mirror‘s June 11, 1977 issue, Vicious said “I’ll probably die by the time I reach 25. But I’ll have lived the way I wanted to.”

A few days after Vicious’ cremation, his mother allegedly found a suicide note in the pocket of his jacket:

We had a death pact, and I have to keep my half of the bargain. Please bury me next to my baby. Bury me in my leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots Goodbye.

Since Spungen was Jewish, she was buried in a Jewish cemetery. As Vicious was not Jewish, he could not be buried with her. According to the book Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain, Jerry Only of the Misfits drove Anne and her sister, and two of Sid’s friends to the cemetery where Nancy was buried and Anne scattered Sid’s ashes over Nancy Spungen’s grave. In the same book, it is alleged that the cemetery didn’t want to be associated with Vicious and his inherent negative reputation, and it is speculated that this was of greater importance to them than the above stated reason he and Nancy weren’t able to be buried together.

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NETFLIX UK DARK TOURIST ATTRACTION – THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL, FOREST OF DEAN, GLOUCESTERSHIRE. FEATURING THE ORIGINAL HANGMAN’S NOOSE USED BY JAMES BERRY ON THE FAILED ATTEMPT TO EXCECUTE JOHN “BABBACOMBE” LEE – THE MAN THEY COULDN’T HANG….JULY 23, 1885 AT EXETER JAIL. THIS EXHIBITION PIECE ALSO INCLUDES AN AUTHENTIC HANDWRITTEN LETTER FROM BERRY TO CONFIRM THIS, ALONG WITH HIS ORIGINAL CALLING/BUSINESS CARD & VARIOUS OTHER MEMORABILIA ITEMS.

ABOVE: ORIGINAL OIL PAINTING BY IN- HOUSE GLOUCESTERSHIRE ARTIST PAUL BRIDGMAN HERE ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL WITHIN OUR ” DARK TOURIST ART GALLERY ”

ABOVE : ORIGINAL OIL PAINTING BY OUR IN-HOUSE GLOUCESTERSHIRE ARTIST PAUL BRIDGMAN DEPICTING THE FAILED ATTEMPT TO HANG JOHN “BABBARCOMBE” LEE IN EXETER PRISON.

THIS PAINTING NOW BEING HERE ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL.

 

FIRSTLY, AND FOR THE RECORD

A FORMAL STATEMENT FROM ANDY JONES, OWNER & CURATOR OF THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION HERE AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL ……

IT HAD BEEN BROUGHT TO OUR ATTENTION THAT THE HIT CHANNEL 4 TV SERIES  – FOUR ROOMS, FIRST BROADCAST AT THE END OF MAY 2011, FEATURED  FELLOW CRIME MEMORABILIA COLLECTOR STEWART P EVANS,  AUTHOR OF THE 2004 PUBLICATION OF THE BOOK ENTITLED “EXECUTIONER- THE CHRONICLES OF JAMES BERRY VICTORIAN HANGMAN” . HE TOOK ONTO THE SHOW A SO-SAY JAMES BERRY HANGMAN’S  NOOSE CLAIMING  IT TO HAVE BEEN THE ORIGINAL ONE USED ON BERRY’S  FAILED EXECUTION OF JOHN ” BABBACOMBE ” LEE ON JULY 23RD 1885 AT EXETER JAIL .

WE WISH TO MAKE IT ABUNDANTLY CLEAR THAT THIS WAS NOT THE NOOSE USED, AND THAT THE ORIGINAL HANGMAN’S NOOSE , ALONG WITH A PERSONALLY HANDWRITTEN AND SIGNED LETTER FROM JAMES BERRY  TO THIS EFFECT,DATED 3 JULY 1897(WRITEN DURING HIS  RETIREMENT YEARS )  ARE HERE AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL ON PUBLIC DISPLAY .
(SEE ORIGINAL NOOSE AND LETTER PICTURES HERE ABOVE & BELOW  FOR REFERENCE )

THESE EXHIBIT ITEMS WERE PURCHASED AT AUCTION BY THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION BACK IN THE YEAR 2000. STEWART HAD ALSO ATTENDED THE AUCTION WITH A VIEW TO PURCHASE BUT WAS SUBSEQUENTLY OUTBID BY OURSELVES . 

THE PROPOSED SALE OF THE OTHER NOOSE OWNED BY STEWART P EVANS  FAILED TO SELL  ON THE CHANNEL 4 TV SERIES “FOUR ROOMS” . THIS WAS PROBABLY DUE TO KNOWLEDGE  THAT THE ORIGINAL NOOSE AND LETTER OF PROVENANCE FROM THE EXECUTIONER -JAMES BERRY WERE KNOWN TO BE  HERE ON PERMANENT DISPLAY AT THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION ,   LITTLEDEAN JAIL, UK .

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL ANDY JONES WISHES TO ADD IT WAS DISAPPOINTING TO NOTE THAT WITH FELLOW CRIME MEMORABILIA COLLECTOR AND FORMER POLICE OFFICER  STEWART EVANS  HAVING KNOWINGLY BEEN AWARE OF THESE FACTS, HE STILL  SADLY TRIED TO DECEIVE   TV SHOW PRODUCERS , THE VIEWING PUBLIC , AND OTHER FELLOW COLLECTORS OF CRIME MEMORABILIA .

REF: ORIGINAL  JAMES BERRY CALLING/BUSINESS CARD 

FURTHERMORE & FOR THE RECORD WE WOULD WISH TO ALSO ADD THAT WE HAVE HERE ON DIPLAY AN ORIGINAL JAMES BERRY PUBLIC EXECUTIONER CALLING/BUSINESS CARD . (  SEE BELOW)

AS AUTHOR STEWART P EVANS WILL ALSO AGREE AND ACCEPT ANDY JONES OF THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION HAD ORIGINALLY INTRODUCED HIM TO THE FORMER OWNER OF THIS CALLING CARD – JOE MAWSON ( NOW DECEASED FORMER CRIME MEMORABILIA COLLECTOR ) . 

JOE  HAD, AS RECOMMENDED BY ANDY JONES ,SUBSEQUENTLY PROVIDED WITHOUT CHARGE TO STEWART,  AN IMAGE OF THIS CARD FOR HIS BOOK, AS ACKNOWLEDGED WITHIN THE CREDITS OF HIS BOOK. #

HOPEFULLY THIS WILL RESPECTFULLY PUT THE RECORD STRAIGHT ON THESE SAID FRONTS.

ABOVE: An original oil painting by Gloucestershire artist Paul Bridgman of James Berry , here on display at The Crime Through Time Collection , Littledean jail .

Above & below: The original James Berry personally handwritten and signed letter that had been originally acquired  alongside his noose, for which Berry clearly states the provenance of this noose as being both the one he had used in his first execution and thereafter the historic failed attempted  execution on John “Babbacombe” Lee.

ABOVE & BELOW: AN ORIGINAL JAMES BERRY EXECUTIONER CALLING/BUSINESS CARD AND ORIGINAL  LETTER FROM SCOTLAND YARDS  BLACK MUSEUM CURATOR BILL WADDELL AKNOWLEDGING SIGHT OF THIS EXTREMELY RARE EXHIBIT PIECE .

THIS CALLING CARD HAVING BEEN PARY OF THE JOE MAWSON ( DECEASED) CRIME MEMORABILIA COLLECTION,  LATER ACCQUIRED BY THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION. THIS ITEM ALONG WITH THE OTHERS FEATURED HERE ARE NOW ON PUBLIC DISPLAY AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL .

Below: A rare and unseen personal photograph of fellow crime memorabilia and ephemera  collector Joe Mawson who was the previous owner of the exceptionally rare James Berry Executioner calling/business card.

This calling card having been previously featured in the book below and now on permanent display here at the jail.

ABOVE & BELOW: THE BOOK WRITTEN BY STEWART P EVANS ALONG WITH A PERSONAL DEDICATION AND THANK-YOU NOTE TO PREVIOUS OWNER OF THE JAMES BERRY CALLING CARD JOE MAWSON .

A  COPY OF ORIGINAL  SIGNED PHOTO OF JAMES BERRY – EXECUTIONER AND HANGMAN

NEWSPAPER ARTICLE BACK ON 05TH OCTOBER 2000 RELATING TO THE UPCOMING AUCTION SALE OF THE NOOSE AND HANGMAN’S LETTER …….SUBSEQUENTLY BOUGHT BY THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION, NOW ON DISPLAY AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL

ABOVE: TRUE CRIME MAGAZINE FEATURE ON LITTLEDEAN JAIL   INCLUDING A REFERENCE TOO  THE ORIGINAL NOOSE USED BY JAMES BERRY ON THE FAILED EXECUTION ON THE MAN THEY COULD NOT HANG ….JOHN ” BABBACOMBE ” LEE.
ACQUIRED FROM AUCTION IN THE YEAR 2000 ALONG WITH FIRM LETTER OF PROVENANCE FROM JAMES BERRY STATING THAT NOT ONLY HAD IT BEEN USED ON LEE , THAT IT HAD ALSO BEEN USED FOR HIS FIRST EXECUTION IN 1884 .
TO ALL OTHERS THAT CLAIM THEY HAVE THE ORIGINAL NOOSE USED ON LEE ……. SORRY BUT ITS HERE ON DISPLAY AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL ALONG WITH THE HANDWRITTEN AND SIGNED LETTER OF 03RD JULY 1897 FROM JAMES BERRY ‘ ON HIS HOME ADDRESSED LETTER HEADED PAPER

NEWSPAPER ARTICLE FEATURING THE HANGMAN’S NOOSE USED BY JAMES BERRY ON THE FAILED ATTEMPT TO EXECUTE JOHN ” BABBACOMBE” LEE FEATURED IN THE WESTERN DAILY PRESS ON NOVEMBER 21ST 2002

ABOVE:  Certificate of inspection of failed trap door

Above: Certificate of John Lee’s prison release

John Henry George Lee (1864 – c. 19 March 1945), better known as John “Babbacombe” Lee or “The Man They Couldn’t Hang”, was an Englishman famous for surviving three attempts to hang him for murder. Born in Abbotskerswell, Devon, Lee served in the Royal Navy, and was a known thief. In 1885, he was convicted of the brutal murder of his employer, Emma Keyse, at her home at Babbacombe Bay near Torquay on 15 November 1884. The evidence was weak and circumstantial, amounting to little more than Lee having been the only male in the house at the time of the murder, his previous criminal record, and being found with an unexplained cut on his arm. Despite this and his claim of innocence, he was sentenced to hang.

Execution attempts and aftermath

On 23 February 1885, three attempts were made to carry out his execution at Exeter Prison. All ended in failure, as the trapdoor of the scaffold failed to open despite being carefully tested by the executioner, James Berry, beforehand. As a result, Home Secretary Sir William Harcourt commuted the sentence to life imprisonment. Lee continued to petition successive Home Secretaries and was finally released in 1907. The only other man in history known to have survived three hanging attempts was Joseph Samuel.

Many theories have been advanced as to the cause of the failure, but Home Office papers show that the official report stated that incorrect assembly of the gallows mechanism allowed the trapdoor hinges to rest upon an eighth of an inch of drawbar, preventing them from opening when the doors were weighted. This incident helped lead to a standard gallows design to prevent a recurrence.

Later years and identifications

After his release, Lee seems to have exploited his notoriety, supporting himself through lecturing on his life, even becoming the subject of a silent film. Accounts of his whereabouts after 1916 are somewhat confused, and one researcher even speculated that in later years, there was more than one man claiming to be Lee. It was suspected that he died in the Tavistock workhouse  during the Second World War. However, one recent piece of research concludes that he died in the United States under the name of “James Lee” in 1945. According to the book The Man They Could Not Hang by Mike Holgate and Ian David Waugh, Lee’s gravestone was found at Forest Home Cemetery, Milwaukee.

ABOVE : Iconic English Folk Rock Band Fairport Convention’ s 1971 album cover entitled “Babbacombe Lee”

Below: The Hanging Song performed by Fairport Convention .

Above & below : One of several handwritten and signed James Berry letters to include close-up image here on display at Littledean Jail

AN EXCEPTIONALLY RARE AND MOST CERTAINALY HISTORICALLY UNIQUE  ENGRAVED 1861 HALF PENNY COIN PRESENTED BY JAMES BERRY PUBLIC EXECUTIONER TO J.BREEZE,  25 JULY 1886

ABOVE , Sadly unsure as to the origins and historical significance of this equally historically rare and unique 1861 half penny coin, which is intricately engraved,

” Presented by J. Berry Public Executioner to J Breeze,  25th July 1886″.

This was presented some 17 months after the failed execution by James Berry of John “Babbacombe” Lee on February 23, 1885 .

( If anyone can shed any light on the significance of this coin and whom J Breeze was, please let us know.)

ABOVE AND BELOW: Pictured here are both sides of this rare coin, giving an indication of the actual size.

 

NETFLIX UK DARK TOURIST ATTRACTION, LITTLEDEAN JAIL…. IN MEMORY OF ROY “PRETTY BOY ” SHAW ( 11 MARCH 1936 – 14 JULY 2012 ) FORMER UNOFFICIAL, UNLICENSED BRITISH HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, DANGEROUS CATEGORY ‘A’ PRISON INMATE AND PROPERTY TYCOON. WHETHER LOATHED OR LOVED, HIS CHARISMATIC LIFE AND TIMES REMAIN IMMORTALISED HERE AT THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION, LITTLEDEAN JAIL, FOREST OF DEAN, GLOUCESTERSHIRE , UK

Royston Henry Shaw (11 March 1936 – 14 July 2012), also known as Roy “Pretty Boy” Shaw, Roy “Mean Machine” Shaw and Roy West, real estate investor, author and businessman from the East End of London who was formerly a criminal and Category A prisoner. During the 1970s–1980s, Shaw was active in the criminal underworld of London and was frequently associated with the Kray twins. Shaw is best remembered today for his career as a fighter on the unlicensed boxing scene, becoming an arch-rival with Lenny McLean.

THE FORMER GUV’NOR HAS PASSED AWAY BUT HIS MEMORY LIVES ON HERE AT THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL

Picture By: Jules Annan Picture Shows:Andy Jones with Roy “Pretty Boy ” Shaw’s boxing trunks and the Belt presented to Roy when he was the undisputed unlicensed British Heavyweight boxing champion between 1975 and 1981 . Roy sadly passed away 14th July 2012 . These items and other Roy Shaw material are on display at the Crime Through Time Collection at Littledean Jail Date 21st July 2012

HAVING HAD THE GREAT HONOUR TO HAVE MET AND KNOWN ROY FOR MORE THAN 30 YEARS AND HAVING ATTENDED A GREAT MANY EVENTS WITH HIM DURING THIS TIME , HE WAS CERTAINLY A VERY TOUGH AND CHARISMATIC PERSON … TO SAY THE LEAST.

UNDOUBTEDLY ONE OF THE TOUGHEST MEN I HAVE EVER MET …. TRUE GENT AND OLD SCHOOL ALTHOUGH AS MANY OF HIS CLOSE FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES WOULD WELL KNOW… ONE YOU WOULD NOT WISH TO ANTAGONISE, UPSET OR CROSS . 

HERE AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL WE HAVE LONG FEATURED A NUMBER OF PERSONAL EXHIBIT ITEMS THAT ONCE BELONGED TO ROY SHAW AND USED BY HIM THROUGHOUT HIS UNLICENSED BOXING CAREER ..

THESE ITEMS WERE KINDLY GIFTED AND PRESENTED TO MYSELF  DURING AN INVITED PRIVATE VISIT TO HIS HOME BACK IN THE YEAR 2000 .

THESE INCLUDE HIS UNDISPUTED , UNOFFICIAL, UNLICENSED BRITISH HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP BELT , HIS BOXING TRUNKS, TRAINING  GLOVES , ORIGINAL FIGHT POSTERS ETC….. HE ALSO CONTRIBUTED A NUMBER OF PERSONALLY SIGNED PHOTO’S  TO BE INCLUDED IN AND AMONGST THIS PERMANENT EXHIBITION AREA HERE AT THE JAIL…

BELOW: ROY SHAW GIFING AND PRESENTING HIS UNOFFICIAL BRITISH HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP BELT ( DATED 1975-1981 ) AND BOXING SHORTS TO ANDY JONES OF THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION… AT ROY’S HOME BACK IN THE YEAR 2000

 

 

“LONG WILL HE REMAIN IMMORTALISED HERE AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL” … SAYS ANDY JONES, CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION OWNER

BELOW ARE A COUPLE MORE VIDEO FILM CLIPS RELATING TO ROY SHAW ….ALSO BELOW THESE A FEW MORE GALLERY IMAGES OF ROY SHAW AND SOME OF THE ITEMS ON DISPLAY HERE AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL …. INCLUDING ORIGINAL FIGHT POSTERS ETC……

Picture By: Jules Annan Picture Shows:Andy Jones with Roy “Pretty Boy ” Shaw’s boxing trunks and the Belt presented to Roy when he was the undisputed unlicensed British Heavyweight boxing champion between 1975 and 1981 . Roy sadly passed away 14th July 2012 . These items and other Roy Shaw material are on display at the Crime Through Time Collection at Littledean Jail Date 21st July 2012 Ref: *World Rights Only* *Unbylined uses will incur an additional discretionary fee!*

 

HERE IS A LIST OF PRISONS FREQUENTED BY ROY SHAW

WORMWOOD SCRUBS – 4 times

HUSK BORSTAL

BRISTOL

LEWES YP

MAIDSTONE

CANTERBURY – 2 times

PENTONVILLE – 5 times

BRIXTON – 3 times

WANDSWORTH – 3 times

PARKHURST – 3 times

GRENDON UNDERWOOD

BROADMOOR

GARTREE – 2 times

LEICESTER – 3 times

HULL

DURHAM

BIRMINGHAM

OXFORD

LONGLARTON

COLCHESTER ARMY PRISON

NUT HOUSE IN GERMANY

NUT HOUSE IN ENGLAND

 

FREAKS OF NATURE, CURIOSITIES, ODDITIES,BIZARRE, THE TABOO, THE MACABRE, WITCHCRAFT & THE OCCULT. SATANISM, THE ILLUMINATI, SECRET SOCIETIES & SO MUCH MORE. IT’S ALL HERE AT THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION, LITTLEDEAN JAIL, FOREST OF DEAN, UK

Wouldn’t it be fascinating to try and revive the old Victorian style sideshows featuring both human freaks and freaks of nature?

 

This is still one of our future aims to host here at the jail ….

 

Whilst possibly deemed to be politically incorrect in today’s society… our view is that it would be a great spectacle here in the UK ? 

 

Hence we are still actively on the look out for any human freaks out there who would wish to participate in this venture and interact with the public…

ABOVE: “PORKY THE PIG ” OUR RARE FREAK BORN  TAXIDERMY VICTORIAN GLOUCESTER OLD SPOT PIGLET  HERE ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL IN AND AMONGST OUR VARIOUS FREAKS OF NATURE 

“Google” our  two headed, three eyed puppy dog that was previously on display at the Jamaica Inn, Cornwall , before being acquired for display here at Littledean Jail

Above & Below : Various Freaks Of Nature here on display at The Crime Through Time Collection , Littledean jail, UK

“MOO-MOO” …….. OUR FREAK BORN TWO HEADED CALF HERE ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

BELOW: A BIT OF A SAD VIDEO CLIP OF A STRUGGLING TO WALK  “LIVING FREAK OF NATURE”  …. A NEW BORN CALF WITH ONE HEAD, THREE EYES AND TWO SNOUTS ..

BELOW : NOSTRILDAMUS OUR FREAK BORN FOAL – BORN HERE IN LITTLEDEAN, FOREST OF DEAN, GLOUCESTERSHIRE, UK, 2017 .

BELOW: ANDY JONES OF THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL WITH A PRESERVED TWO HEADED SNAKE ( NOT LIVE ) WHICH IS ON DISPLAY WITH THE OTHER VARIOUS FREAKS OF NATURE .

 

BELOW : “NODDY” … OUR TWO HEADED FREAK PHEASANT

BELOW:  PHUCKED- Phuckus Duckus  ( part Pheasant & duck ) here on display at the Jail

 ABOVE IS AN IMAGE OF A ” FUR BEARING TROUT”  …..  A THEN TYPICAL VICTORIAN FREAK-SHOW ATTRACTION ….     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9jnLzpEaXE

HERE’S A PICTORIAL INSIGHT INTO OUR OWN FREAKS OF NATURE EXHIBITION HERE AT LITTLEDEAN JAIL , WHICH IS ALSO AVAILABLE AS A TOURING EXHIBITION DURING OUR CLOSED SEASON AT THE JAIL ( 1ST NOVEMBER UNTIL 31ST MARCH) FOR DETAILS PLEASE EMAIL JULES@CONCERTPHOTOGRAPHY.CO.UK

ALSO BELOW ARE SOME INTRIGUING INTERACTIVE VIDEO FOOTAGE OF A TWO HEADED KITTEN (BORN IN THE USA) AND A TWO HEADED CALF ( BORN IN GEORGIA) … BOTH BORN ALIVE AND ARE SIMILAR TO THE ONES WE HAVE HERE ON DISPLAY (OUR’S ARE OBVIOUSLY SADLY  NO LONGER LIVING  )

LADY GAGA OUR FREAK BORN TWO FACED KITTEN  MEETS GOOGLE OUR FREAK BORN TWO FACED THREE EYED PUPPY

ABOVE AND BELOW : ORIGINAL CANVAS PAINTINGS BY GLOUCESTERSHIRE ARTIST PAUL BIRDGMAN ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

LADY GAGA MEETS GOOGLE

SHRUNKEN HEADS

TWO-HEADED RAT

GOOGLE THE THREE EYED TWO-FACED PUPPY

SHRUNKEN HEAD

SHRUNKEN HEAD

REAR SHOT OF SIX LEGGED PIGLET

LADY GAGA OUR TWO FACED KITTEN

LADY GAGA OUR TWO FACED KITTEN

“Pandora” the six legged, two bodied kitten on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

“Kitty” the seven legged , two bodied kitten on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

BONKING MONKEYS

“Face ” the two faced, one headed piglet born circa 1860 on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

GRIZZLY THE BEAR

SWAMPY THE 10 FOOT CROCODLIE

“Face ” the two faced, one headed piglet born circa 1860 on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

“Face ” the two faced, one headed piglet born circa 1860 on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

“Kitty” the seven legged , two bodied kitten on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

GOOGLE THE THREE EYED TWO-FACED PUPPY

TWO HEADED TERRAPIN

“Kitty” the seven legged , two bodied kitten on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

“Pandora” the six legged, two bodied kitten on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

WINNIE AND BOO BOO THE INDIAN BEARS ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

“Noddy ” the two headed pheasant on display as “freaks Of Nature Collection”

GOOGLE THE THREE EYED TWO-FACED PUPPY

ABOVE AND BELOW ARE IMAGES OF “BAA BAA” GLOUCESTERSHIRE  FREAK BORN  EIGHT LEGGED, FOUR EARED, TWO BODIES AND ONE HEADED LAMB HERE ON DISPLAY IN AMONGST OUR FREAKS OF NATURE COLLECTIONS .

 LADY GAGA ….. OUR FREAK BORN TWO FACED , THREE EYED KITTEN HERE ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

ABOVE : TWO HEADED RAT ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

ABOVE: ORIGINAL TIBETAN HUMAN  SKULLS & RAMS HEAD  ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

BELOW: ORIGINAL HUMAN SKULL CHALICES USED FOR SACRIFICIAL, WITCHCRAFT AND OCCULT CEREMONIAL GATHERINGS

BELOW : ORIGINAL MONKEY SKULL NECKLACE USED FOR VOODOO AND BLACK MAGIC .

LIFESIZE “BAPHOMET-HORNED GOD”  ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

LADY EMILIA – WITCH OF THE FOREST ON DISPLAY AT THE JAIL

IN MEMORY OF ……FALKLANDS WAR PARACHUTE REGIMENT HERO…… LIEUTENANT COLONEL HERBERT JONES VC . OBE. ( simply known as H Jones) killed in action on 28 May 1982 during the Battle of Goose Green .

 

Lieutenant-Colonel Herbert Jones, VC, OBE (14 May 1940 – 28 May 1982), known as H. Jones, was a British army officer and posthumous recipient of the Victoria Cross. He was awarded the VC after being killed in action during the Battle of Goose Green for his actions as commanding officer of 2 Battalion, Parachute Regiment during the Falklands War.

ABOVE AND BELOW  : COMMEMORATIVE BRONZE FIGURINE DEPICTING  COLONEL H JONES , 2 PARA  ON DISPLAY IN AND AMONGST THE UK SPECIAL FORCES EXHIBITION AREA  AT THE CRIME THROUGH TIME COLLECTION , LITTLEDEAN JAIL

On 2 April 1982, Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands, a remote UK colony in the South Atlantic. The move led to a brief, but bitter war.

Argentina’s military junta hoped to restore its support at a time of economic crisis, by reclaiming sovereignty of the islands. It said it had inherited them from Spain in the 1800s and they were close to South America.

The UK, which had ruled the islands for 150 years, quickly chose to fight. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher said the 1,800 Falklanders were “of British tradition and stock”. A task force was sent to reclaim the islands, 8,000 miles away.

In the fighting that followed, 655 Argentine and 255 British servicemen lost their lives, as did three Falkland Islanders.

 

 

medals awarded to H Jones posthumously .

Rare bronze statue on plinth ( 18 inch tall ) of Colonel H Jones , now on display at Littledean Jail .

Plaque on side of Rare bronze statue on plinth ( 18 inch tall ) of Colonel H Jones , now on display at Littledean Jail .

Rare bronze statue on plinth ( 18 inch tall ) of Colonel H Jones , now on display at Littledean Jail .

Colonel H Jones memorial situated oa the Falkland Islands

Colonel H Jones memorial plaque

Colonel H Jones gravestone

Memorial , listing some of those soldiers who were killed in action during the 1982 Falklands War

Was Colonel ‘H’ a mad fool?

Last updated at 00:39 12 May 2007

Much has been written about the hero’s death that won Colonel ‘H’ Jones a Falklands VC.

Here, for the first time, is the brutally honest and vivid account of one of the Paras who fought with him.

It raises some deeply unsettling questions

My breath sounded like a storm in my ears. Surely they could hear it? They were only a dozen metres away – no distance at all.

You know you’re really scared when you think your own breathing is going to betray you.

Sliding my weapon into the crook of my arms, I inched forward on my elbows, pushing slowly, very slowly, with my feet.

The slightest sound could lead to catastrophe for our patrol. Every movement I made was carefully measured and weighed.

I was soaked to the skin, and my knees and thighs were bruised by the rocky ground I’d crawled over.

My hands were numb with cold, and the muscles on my neck and shoulders were clenched like a vice. But I had to concentrate.

There was an Argy trench directly in front of me. No enemy visible. One heavy machine gun in place. Couldn’t miss that. I was staring straight down its barrel.

Another trench 20 yards to the left. Two enemy talking – and pink toilet paper everywhere.

The dirty devils had not dug latrines, they’d just walked out of their trenches and fouled the ground in front of their own positions.

This was encouraging. It told us they’d been worn down by the wind and weather and couldn’t be bothered to dig pits in the freezing cold.

If they were similarly sloppy about sentry duty, that was good news for our lads.

Surprisingly, no one seemed to be manning the gun pointing straight up my nose. What was going on in that trench? Better take a closer look.

As I inched forward, I could hear the Argies still chatting away in a low murmur. What were they talking about? Girlfriends? Mothers? The price of penguin meat?

All that mattered was that there was no edge of alarm in their voices; no hint they’d heard anything. I didn’t need Spanish to know they hadn’t rumbled us.

One more push and I was nearly close enough to touch the ice-cold barrel of that machine-gun.

Cloaked by the mist, I lifted myself onto one knee, rifle at the ready, and peered down into the gloom of the trench.

There they were. Three of them. Sleeping like babes, tucked up nicely in their sleeping bags, counting Falklands sheep in their sleep.

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I could have killed all three before they could say their Hail Marys. This was a unit that was exhausted and couldn’t give a damn. More good news for our lads.

It was time to pull back. But as I crawled away in reverse, slowly and deliberately, I had a hunch that we hadn’t discovered all the Argy positions and decided we should look further over to the east.

There was no way that we’d let our mates run into a lead storm that they hadn’t been warned about.

They were depending on us to recce these outlying positions before we launched our attack on Goose Green.

As we began eyeballing the ground we hadn’t covered, we were ready for anything. Or so we thought.

It was Pete Myers, the youngest member of our patrol, who spotted them first, swirling around like spirits in the mist.

“What’s that over there?” he growled.

“Get down,” I ordered. We hit the ground and tried to make out what the hell we were looking at.

One thing was for sure, they weren’t spirits. These things were neighing and whinnying.

“They’re f****** wild horses,” said Steve Jones, our Welsh lead scout. At that moment, they came thundering straight for us. It was scary as hell.

“F*** it. Let’s drop the b*******,” I spat.

“No, don’t!” said Jonesy. “Just lie still and flat! They’ll run over you! Horses hate stepping on living things!”

What did he know that I didn’t? Had he been a hussar before he joined the Paras? I didn’t think so.

There was no time to argue. The herd was upon us. I looked up at them for a moment before pressing my nose to the ground and squeezing my eyes shut.

Heads and manes tossing, they charged over us, pounding the ground in every direction, filling our senses.

I opened one eye and looked up as a mustang leapt over me. I could see the blur of its legs for a split second before one of its hooves slapped into the peat inches from my head.

Then gun shots! One, two, three! The Argies must have stampeded the horses to flush us out and pinpoint our position.

We were done for – laid out in the middle of nowhere with only horse-dung to hide behind.

As the horses vanished into the darkness, I snatched up my rifle and took aim. But it was OK. The shooting had stopped.

The Argies had only been firing to scare the horses off, turning them away from their trenches.

A few relieved shouts and nervous laughter from the enemy. The sight of wild animals coming out of the dark had rattled them, too.

“Everyone all right?” A quick head check confirmed that no one had been hoof-minced.

“How did you know they wouldn’t stamp the f*** out of us?” I asked Steve. “Some ancient bit of Welsh folklore?”

“Nah,” he answered, “Grand National. You know when those jockeys come off at Beechers Brook?

“They just roll into a ball and stay still as f***, then the horses do anything they can not to put a hoof on ’em.”

“Really?” I said. “Interesting.” My heart was pounding, I’d just produced enough adrenaline to fuel a rocket, and my second in command was telling me the reason we’d lived through it was the Grand National.

Still, the Argies didn’t suspect it was us who had spooked the horses or they would have mown the grass with machine guns. God, they were sloppy.

Careless soldiering costs lives, I reflected as we made our way back to base.

Those poor devils were going to discover the truth of that within the next three hours when our lads got stuck into them. The trouble was, so would we.

FLASHBACK. December 1981. Kenya. An hour after dawn.

As I gazed out over the African plain stretching far away into the heat haze, I blinked the salty sweat out of my eyes and tried to concentrate on the view through the sight of my rifle as I searched for the enemy.

Movement was not an option. One absent-minded swat at the cluster of flies drinking on my sweat and the game was up.

We’d laid three long snakes of green parachute cord across the bush and they slithered invisibly through the landscape.

Suddenly one came to life with a rapid tattoo of tugs – a signal from one of the other lads that the enemy was advancing into our trap.

We watched them every step of the way. They were inching forward, knowing we were out there. And every second took them deeper into our ambush.

It was only an exercise. The yellow blank-firing attachments on the muzzles of our rifles showed that. The enemy were just other lads from 2 Para.

But the stakes were high. To the victor went the spoils and that meant the right to taunt the losers over free beer for weeks to come. A prize not to be scoffed at.

Then I spotted him, moving up through the scrub to the foot of the ridge we were lying on, right up with the enemy’s lead section.

It was our boss, 2 Para’s commanding officer, Colonel Herbert ‘H’ Jones.

What the hell was H doing there? He should have been back with his tactical headquarters unit conducting operations, not up with the front platoons.

Mark Sleap saw him too. Sleapy by name but not sleepy by nature, Mark was sharp as a tack and one of our top guys. As H handed out instructions to his men, Sleapy opened up.

The ambush erupted as rifles and machine guns raked the enemy. It was fast, brutal and effective. The colonel was dead. Direct hit.

He wasn’t happy. No one likes to be killed and H humped and grumped about it. “It wouldn’t have happened,” he told Mark later.

“We’d have got you lot with our artillery when we softened up your area before moving in.”

“Maybe, sir,” said Sleapy diplomatically. “But I did get you, sir.”

It was a prophetic moment, a glimpse into a future some six months ahead. Next time, though, 2 Para wouldn’t be sweltering in Kenya; we’d be freezing our backsides off in the Falklands.

ONCE again, H would be leading from the front, where he shouldn’t be, but this time it wouldn’t be an exercise. It would be live rounds and H really would be dead.

The posthumous Victoria Cross he earned at Goose Green is probably the most controversial VC of all time.

The accounts of the events surrounding his death have mostly been written by former officers and military historians.

They’re fine as far as they go, but they can’t tell it like a front-line para – or Toms as we call ourselves – and they haven’t told the whole story. But I can. I was there.

The first thing to say is that H was a cracking bloke, the best boss I ever had in the army.

He was what we called a “crap-hat” – a soldier from a non-Para regiment, and thus a stranger to the coveted red beret – but he made an immediate impact the moment he joined us.

The hard-core Toms loved the way he called battalion meetings in the drill hall and then announced:

“Right, now that you’re all here we’re going on a ten-mile run.”

All the fat HQ wallahs, drivers and officers, who normally skived off battalion runs, were trapped and H ran the life out of them.

Like any good commander, H wanted action and if there was any glory about, he wanted it for his men and not the “Booties”, the Royal Marines who led the task force sent to the Falklands after the Argentinian invasion in April 1982.

H’s distrust of the “Booties” was apparent from the moment we tried to come ashore on the night of May 21, scrambling off the converted car ferry which had brought us south and cramming into landing craft driven by the marines.

As the boats swayed and dipped in the swell, sea-sickness was only part of the problem. There was something else in the air.

Raw fear. Any minute now a fusillade from the shore might cut us into pieces.

We thought we would head straight for the beach but, instead, we went round and round in endless circles like day-trippers on a municipal boating lake.

Just in case the enemy might have any problem spotting us, the whole performance took place in the light of a near-full moon.

Boat engines throbbed, chains rattled and clanked, and friendly Booties flashed lights and called out to one another across the water.

I was not impressed – and neither was H. We heard him bellowing as he verbally castrated a few gobby marines.

When we finally got ashore, we holed up for two days on the freezing slopes of Sussex Mountain before London gave us the go-ahead for a raid on the airfield at Goose Green to the south.

H was on top form. He had plans to formulate and there isn’t an officer on the planet that doesn’t love planning.

Critics now say his plan was too complex, with lots of overlapping waves of attack. It certainly started to come unstuck pretty quickly.

On the night of May 23, we pressed through dense mist and rain towards Camilla Creek House -a sheep farm which was our initial base for the attack.

But after seven stumbling, mind-numbing, muscle-tearing miles in full kit, we were almost there when we were told to turn back.

Bad weather had grounded the Sea King helicopters that were supposed to be moving our artillery forward and Brigadier Julian Thompson, the Bootie in charge of the task force, had called the mission off.

H kicked off like a firecracker. “I’ve waited 20 years for this,” he snarled. “Now some f****** marine’s cancelled it.”

There was nothing for it but to slog back to Sussex Mountain. With the gallows humour typical of the paras, me and the lads from the Patrols Platoon started belting out a song: John Lennon’s Give Peace A Chance.

Suddenly a head popped out of the command HQ tent flap. It was H. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at us with an expression that said:

“Oh, it’s those f****** nutters from Patrols.”

H loved the Patrols Platoon – fit, aggressive soldiers whose speciality was getting up close to the enemy, acting as the eyes and ears of the regiment.

He just looked at us like a patient father with some naughty kids and never said a word.

Four days later, the battle was on for real -but there was more grief for H. On the morning of May 27, we were awaiting orders at Camilla Creek House when suddenly a melee of officers and sergeants appeared among the men. They were in a right flap.

“Move out! Move out! Away from these buildings on the double!” one of them yelled. “Grab your kit and f****** get out of here!”

It turned out the BBC had announced that we were about to attack Goose Green and, according to some of the men, had even revealed our position at Camilla Creek House.

Ironically, it turned out later that the Argy high command thought the bulletins were a double bluff, designed to wrong-foot them.

But the BBC announcement was a real jolt for H and left him wondering how much the enemy knew about his intentions.

It wasn’t his day. The chaos caused by the BBC meant that several officers failed to make a vital briefing meeting.

On top of that, the Special Forces recces that he’d been relying on to assess the readiness of the enemy were turning out to be a fairytale, while a Harrier jet had just been lost in a raid that left the enemy unscathed and on full alert.

All of which was enough to put any colonel into a spin on the eve of a battle.

Nothing travels faster in a battalion than news of the boss’s mood and the word was out. H was not a happy man.

CLICK, click. Click, click, click. It sounded like sinister insects calling out to each other in the darkness and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

For this wasn’t insects. It was our lads fixing their bayonets and preparing to advance down the narrow isthmus of land leading to Goose Green.

I was thrilled and I’m not ashamed to say it. I was a soldier and the thought of the fight to come gave me a warrior’s rush.

One or two hands reached out and briefly clasped mine as they slipped by me into the darkness. Somewhere in the gloom a young para puked up with the tension.

He got that off his chest and went on to fight like a demon.

Things kicked off around 3am when one of the lads from B Company spotted a silhouette in the middle of a field. “It must be a scarecrow,” whispered a young officer.

A scarecrow? He was on the Falklands, the place was crawling with Argies and he thought he was seeing a scarecrow.

“Hands up!” shouted one of the lads. With that, the scarecrow came to life. “Por favor?” he said and reached under his poncho for his weapon.

Two rifles and two machine guns opened up on him without a moment’s hesitation. Bullets tore through him and tracer rounds ignited his clothing, lighting him up like a Halloween pumpkin.

Soon B Company had taken out nearly 20 Argy trenches, tearing through them with machine-guns, grenades and bayonets.

It was a good start to their advance but elsewhere H’s plans were evaporating as fast as a bottle of port in the officers’ mess.

We were supposed to be receiving support from HMS Arrow, softening up the enemy positions with bombardments of huge shells at the rate of 30 a minute. This would have shortened the engagement by hours.

In the event, Arrow had fired just one shell before her gun jammed. Meanwhile, the Harrier jets we had been promised were fog-bound on their carriers.