The slammer in which he served seems remarkably tame, as if he spent his spell at Her Majesties pleasure on the set of Porridge. An image not helped by the presence of Terry from Fawlty Towers. There is some guard based brutality, but mostly implied. What we're actually shown is minor and frankly fairly justified. The atmosphere is rather jovial and they retain a number of privileges despite being on the maximum security wing. They have free access to paper-mache and shower rooms, which leads to much mischief.
Mostly it's just made to seem a very boring existence, which given this is written by McVicar himself is probably the reality of things, but a far cry from the picture of confinement I have in my head. Films like Shawshank, Scum and the HBO series OZ, these are the images I conjure if talking 'bout the big house. The hardships of the inmates involve the daily threat of death and rape, not cold food, having the TV turned off early and being forced to actually wear uniforms.
Daltrey (when not contributing to the excellent soundtrack), largely for something to do, escapes from clink with the help of fellow musician Adam Faith about midway through the film, where it shifts to a slower gear as he reconnects with his wife, becomes a father to his son, is aided by the supporting cast of Minder and stays indoors a lot. While he is learning that he has reasons to stay outside (the films major theme is that it is only outside of pokey that he finds rehabilitation) I found myself wishing he would quickly find his way back in. The strange collection of characters and the unusual, unsensationalised portrayal of the cooler was genuinely absorbing, though perhaps largely due to contrast with related fictions.
An odd film that sadly hasn't born the weight of it's years well. An engaging penal section with a cast of characters only a true story could wield gives way to the laborious illustration of his concealment and reformation outside of the system.
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