Gerard,
Yes, I worked in the prison's in an area of the UK for about six years. I was always amazed by how many JW's ended up there. I new none in my personal life, but each Saturday evening as I was ushered in by the Warders, one would invariably say, "another one of your lot in Block C".
It was not a pleasant experience as the prison was a high security one, and my studies were conducted at arms-length from 'lifers' who had nothing to lose by grinning and then pulling off your head. UK prisons smell like an airless broom closet, with a scent like a stew of ancient socks in disinfectant wafting and pasting itself on every surface.
Saturday night was shower night and I would have to walk the full length of the block unaccompanied by warders. I would hurry past a long, long line of grey and white bodies, lost souls reminiscent of a scene from Dante's Inferno, some with pendulous breasts from hormone treatment, to get to the cell where the studies were conducted. I can assure you that I marched as strongly and fiercely as a Stormtrooper on Speed to get to my destination as I tried to avoid breathing the oversused air.
As soon as I was let out into the evening air after my stint in cells smaller than my bathroom, I celebrated my feedom by finding the nearest pub and engulfing several pints of 'Old Peculiar'. I never did figure out how I got home, but I always awoke in my own bed.
HS