In a Shout of Triumph


Dear Bruce,

Well, the salmon has gone, the pineapple disappeared and I finished the last of the pate late last night, but what a triumph you orchestrated.

The show speaks for itself and this was given the wonderful accolade of approval by all of those kind people whose e-mails you read out.

But it went much deeper than that, didn't it?  The Wax King was a triumph in relationships and in the spirit that it conjured up in all of us.

Obviously, like most things in life, there is always a lull behind the storm, and we all felt it.  After the excitement of the last night and the joy that we all had remembering it for the next few days, disappointment began to creep in.

We all had our memories, and some of us tried to write them down, but we desperately missed being together, and the challenge and offer of life beyond the bars that The Wax King offered us.

The friendships and the loss were summed up so brilliantly in the tears which stopped the final song so dramatically.

Still, we finished in a shout of triumph.  Please, whatever you do, don't let that shout die away.

You have moved us all:  The actors and the actresses, the inmates and the Prison Service from the Governors upwards.  Keep that hot line open, take that same hope and inspiration to others, but please, please come back again to Pentonville soon.  And then, this time, let's try to find a way of reaching all of the others that couldn't participate this time.

With my very sincere thanks and warmest regards to you and to all of the guys and dolls who gave so, so very much of themselves.