I'm of the opinion that ‘the Prisoner’ doesn't mean half the things we think it does, which came as a bit of a disappointment to me as you might imagine. So where does that leave me? On a raft most probably, somewhere off the coast of...... oops, mustn’t give too much away old boy, but the co-ordinates for the location of the village is in my research notes. Oh yes, there's a huge pile of research papers in the corner of my bed sit, all logically researched using reasoned logic, and not at all reading too much into ‘the Prisoner,’ or making it up as I go along. Such is the mass of information I have acquired, and one day I intend to get it all published, or failing that, donate it as a manuscript to a library somewhere. So this is how I arrived at my conclusion, that perhaps ‘the Prisoner’ doesn't mean half the things we think it does, after reading letters and articles on this very subject.
Anyway, time moves on, and tonight is the monthly meeting of the local Prisoner group, we meet once a month in the Dog & Duck public house. And a better evening I could not envisage, a chatting about ‘the Prisoner’ over a pint and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. Mind you it wasn't like that last month. I tried to impress
Doris, the bar maid at the Dog & Duck, when I downed that Whisky, Vodka, Drambuie, Tia Maria, Cointreau, and Grand Marnier in quick succession. Doris said I'd be sick, and I was, all over her and the bar!
I'm Johnny Prisoner - who won't be trying that again!