Two names reigned supreme in London's underworld in the sixties
- Ronnie & Reggie Kray; & it wasn't until 1969 that the twins went down at Brixton Prison for murder. I was only seventeen on remand up in Risley Warrington for nicking a furniture lorry. Most of the lads in there had newspaper photos of the Krays stuck up on their cell walls. They were the cream of the criminal crop & that's why I took such an interest in 'em. Once I was put away it wasn't long before I got to meet them & over the next 29 years I got closer to the Krays than any self-proclaimed henchman any autograph hunter. As their trusted friend they let me in on it all
- no holds barred behind bars! Since Ronnie & Reggie died all I've heard is a load of bollocks! ' Reggie shot my cat; Ronnie stabbed my uncle Bert 75 times; Reggie ran over my hamster; I'm Ronnie's son I'm Reggie's daughter.' Gutless maggots spreading rumours with their sham stories for sale. The shameless rats. Well now the twins are gone & I can talk. & let me tell you I've got a lot to say & all the time in the world to say it. No bollocks. No silly stories. Just the facts about the time I spent doing porridge with the Krays.