Violence was second nature to the psychopathic and ultra-violent Stephen Moyle, who was already a seasoned street fighter, after having half his face torn off in a street fight with three other men.

Looking as sharp as Sweeney Todd’s razor, Roger struck a formidable figure as he donned his smart clothes and tie. At times, he would often talk of the night of his career when he fought John Conteh. He took the defeat of that match very personally and would often punch out a drunk who scoffed at his midlands accent and his past pride and glory.

Back then I had muscles on my muscles, I was tattooed and tanned, wore the tightest of jeans to accentuate my snakelike waist and the whitest of tight vests to accentuate my muscle packed torso. To top it all off, I had the nicest piece of eye-candy on my arm in the form of a stunning, long-legged, mini skirted blonde.

I was so incensed that I was oblivious to all as I ran over broken glass, holding a five-foot weightlifting bar. The glass tore the soles of my feet as I chased the gang’s car up the street. I remember breathing heavily as I cursed failing to catch my enemies.

This extraordinary tale of madness, leading up to Stephen being sectioned off to the lunatic asylum at Broadmoor, also reveals Stephen’s eventual fight to win his freedom from the asylum, which saw his legal team mount a successful challenge against the ‘criminally insane’ label that was keeping him in Broadmoor. Moyle’s legal team successfully argued that he was either a criminal or insane, he could not be both.

Although my swimming stroke became powerful, I wrestled with the waves and I considered that if I were on the same path of the ferry then I’d be sucked under by the boat and be drowned. The sea was insistent in the direction I swam, washed onwards and there was not a sight or sound of any boats or shipping.

In January 1995 three prisoners, two category ‘A’ prisoners and a lifer escaped from Parkhurst Prison on the Isle of Wight. After four days of freedom they were recaptured. My length of freedom far surpassed theirs.

I did not recognise the man at the door and, in split-second time, I pointed the barrel of the fearsome looking weapon to the downstairs living room window, blew that out and then levelled it at the bedroom window above, and blew that out. The owner of the property literally shit his pants and slammed the door.

I opened my coat and flashed the gun to Brew, all I had to do was point it and pull the trigger and that would be the end of one of my enemies. I’d probably have to shoot the second as he ran way from me totting the gun.