BENEATH THE POPPY FIELDS One pager.

BENEATH THE POPPY FIELDS.

Written by

Christopher Chance.

Genre:

War/Action.

Logline:

Beneath the battlefield subterranean warriors dig to kill from below.

Short pitch:

A team of seven Royal Engineers veterans on detachment to the infantry fight their war in tunnels and trenches, but the whims of the officer class threaten their existence to such an extent that one of the officers is murdered. Coincidentally, the German tunnellers have the same problem with their officer who also is murdered.

During the underground conflict the Germans use a baby to entice the infantrymen into no-mans-land where they are killed by a massive underground bomb. The sound of a baby crying plays enormously in the mind of Johnny G, the Royal Engineers troop commander who has been fighting this war for two years.

The infantry are new, inexperienced soldiers who die in their thousands each day; hence the conflicting opinions of enthusiastic inexperienced upper class officers who think of the experienced decorated sappers as mere coal miners.

The story comes to the end with a nail-biting race between foes, each of them digging furiously to blow each other to smithereens with massive underground bombs.

The Royal Engineers win the day but sadly, Johnny G dies of his wounds surrounded by his heroic sappers and the tiny baby boy he rescued from the battlefield.

Content:

90 pages of screenplay about the relentless slaughter of a generation of Allied and German lives in the hell of the Battle of the Somme. This is just a tiny episode about a section of sappers in their own subterranean hell beneath the poppy fields.

 

 

 

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PRISON WRITING (How it all began)

Dear Reader,

I first started writing in a foreign prison in 1998. The prison was the infamous Carabanchel, in Madrid, Spain. I say ‘was’ because that evil place has now been demolished, but like Belsen and Alcatraz, it will never be forgotten.

I realised I was in a situation that demanded great presence of mind to survive and perhaps start writing a journal to record the events that will take place during the run up to the ‘last rites,’ the final fetid gasps of breath this evil beast has to take as its gates close finally behind the last of its inmates. Little did I know that I was to be the last Englishman to be held here and that my pen was to continue its scribbling for many years to come.

I must first tell you that writing has turned my life around and I am no longer the adrenalin junkie that I used to be, which caused my incarceration in the first place. Actually, there’s more to it than that, but that is not for this brief introduction; those stories are in my books.

However, I must tell you that I was a high seas hashish smuggler operating between Africa and Europe. I also smuggled through most of the UK airports and all of the English Channel ports. My eventual capture and arrest was not due to the skills of the police, but rather to an informer; a grass, the lowest of the low, which led me to a prison cell from where my writing career began.

Writing in my cell was both therapeutic and time consuming. Reliving the harrowing events to describe them in my books was a means of putting closure on things that could have been mentally debilitating. Perhaps writing about their experiences may help soldiers suffering with the after effects of being in action… just a thought. I say that because I was also a professional soldier and witnessed much violence and the deaths of my friends.

I was thrilled when my first book was published and ecstatic when the second book was on the bookshop shelves next to each other. This gave me the confidence to write another book about drugs and arms deals based on actual events. The book is now published and I have called it, THE ASSASSINS CODE 1, which I have now adapted to screenplay.

This book was not the product of a prison cell. I wrote it when I was living in Cyprus enjoying the warm climate, which is more of an achievement for me because I am not formally educated and I didn’t have the props of a prison to create the reality.

I started to write my third ‘prison’ book; SATAN’S ARENA when I was arrested in France in January, 2007. I was arrested in the port of Calais because I was wanted for extradition to Spain, from where I had been on the run for five years.

After first being incarcerated in the Douai dungeon, where the second-to-last convicted criminal to be guillotined in France was executed; a most harrowing place of detention, I realised that life in the French Penal System will be like living in the Middle-Ages.

I shared a filthy cell with the French surgeon, Jean Beclet, who butchered his wife. I didn’t spend much time with the wife killer because one week later I was trussed in leg-irons and manacles and taken to Douai Court where my extradition to Spain hearing took place.

Just a few days later I was again chained in leg-irons and manacles for my transfer to Bapaume prison and later on to the dreaded Fresnes prison in the southern suburbs of Paris. This chaotic prison is where the Gestapo tortured the Resistance heroine, Odette, before she was sent to Ravensbruck concentration camp. This place reeks of evil.

Fresnes is notorious for being the harshest prison in France but I was soon to find myself in a much darker place when I arrived in Spain. But I must first tell you that I was grossly mistreated in France and fed on bread and water for breakfast in each of the prisons: Yes, it is the 21st Century and France still is in the Middle-Ages regarding its penal system… and guess what? I never committed a crime in France, I was held merely for extradition.

For my extradition to Spain, I was shackled and escorted by four armed guards from Fresnes prison to Orly airport, where the guards were reinforced with two sub-machine gun toting legionnaires.

I was escorted through the concourse with tourists taking photos of me while others scurried away in shock – thinking I was Osama bin Laden, or some other terrorist.

The Spanish escort team arrived and insisted the hardware be removed and the legionnaires be sent back to the battle field so we could board the flight without frightening the other passengers.

We boarded the aircraft just like all the other passengers and off we went; nobody any the wiser, until we landed in Madrid where a police car awaited me.

I was taken to a court room and told I was going to Soto del Real prison in Madrid.

Eventually, after spending time in Soto del Real prison and Valdemoro top security prison in Madrid, I was sent north to Daroca prison, possibly the most dangerous place to be in all of Europe.

Many of the inmates here have committed the most atrocious crimes and here I am sharing my space with cannibals; child sex killers, murderers and rapists. Men who should have been put to death for their barbarism are everywhere I look. My prison cell is my safe haven – or so I thought… I suffered terribly with stress and nightmares in that hell-hole.

I wrote a book in Daroca and have now published it as an e-book on Amazon kindle.

This book is not for the squeamish or the politically correct brigade and like my previous prison books has plenty of anti-Spanish and French sentiment due to my undiluted emotions at the time of writing because of the treatment I received at the hands of my jailers. Welcome to the brutal, ugly and dangerous corridors of Satan’s Arena.

However, regarding political incorrectness, I intend to write further about ‘nonces’ (paedophiles), homosexual men in prison (irons) and members of various Arabic tribes and gypsy tribes. The writing will be about my own personal experiences; bad and horrendous, during the time I spent in 11 (yes, eleven) different foreign prisons. And yes, I must write about the other person who suffered; possibly more than I did, my lovely, loyal wife, Susan.

She lived alone in an old finca (farmhouse) on a remote hillside in Andalusia, Spain. During my incarceration in all of the prisons, she wrote to me each day just as soon as she received my first letter from each prison telling her where I am.

How she survived alone is worthy of several pages, which I hope to write about on my blog page. However, I will put her poem on here right now, I found it during a recent house move and it touched me deeply. She titled it:

                                                       I AM NOT ALONE.

I WAKE ALONE

I EAT ALONE

I WALK ALONE

I SLEEP ALONE

I LIVE ALONE

BUT I AM NOT ALONE

FOR I AM LOVED

MY LOVE WAKES WITH ME – EATS WITH ME – WALKS WITH ME – SLEEPS WITH ME

HE IS ALWAYS THERE, YOU SEE. THOUGH WE ARE APART MY LOVE IS WITH ME ALWAYS.

You may wonder what two people can write about on a daily basis. For me it was often difficult because life in a foreign prison is brutally hard and often painful. Of course, I would never disclose to my loved ones the way things were in those foreign pits so I would write about the foreign friends I made and our various activities in the martial arts i.e., training and teaching and about writing my journal, which I used to write my books. My journals contain all the foul, brutal experiences, which people would learn about when I gained my freedom.

Anyway, till the next time: WALK IN PEACE.

If you are interested in my work, you can read about it on my website: http://www.chrischance.co.uk/the-books/

I have been script writing for several years now and you will find the relevant page on my website.

Or, if you are in the US: http://www.amazon.com/Christopher-Chance/e/B001K88S64/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1445005996&sr=1-2-ent

Or, in Europe: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Christopher-Chance/e/B001K88S64/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1445006176&sr=1-2-ent

Christopher Chance.

 

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SYRIA – UKRAINE: FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

Why are Putin and Obama at loggerheads just now? That is a question on many lips and a lot of people are worried—and rightfully so, because there is a lot at stake, which has nothing to do with humanitarian cause or effort.

I personally don’t know who initiated the ‘putsch’ against Assad. Maybe it’s the so-called ‘Arab Spring’ (a media term for Arab unrest). OK, so who upset the Arabs to create the ‘Spring’? Someone did and regime change is knocking on Syria’s door just like it did in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen and most blatantly with Saddam in Iraq.

So why Syria? Let’s have a little look… But first let’s just get something clear: If you think the Cold War is over and the KGB no longer exists, then it’s a fair bet you believe in the Tooth Fairy. The reputation of the KGB has not been erased by renaming it the FSB – the Russian bear is still alive and kicking.

First of all we’ll start with Putin and the Russians. They have been pals with Syria for a long time, hence the Russian naval base in Tartus. So what? I hear you say.

Well, it just so happens that it is the only foothold the Russians have in the Middle East and the only naval base they have in the Mediterranean. Also, it generates a multi-billion dollar arms business which certain people in the West would love to have a slice of. I feel I am wasting my time now because I bet you can see where I am going with this.

OK, regime change; who wants one?

If there is one, the Russian naval base could well be asked to sling its hook and find another port. If this came to pass the Cold War would very likely become very hot.

Right now there is a lot of hot air about ‘red lines’ being crossed; similar rhetoric prior to Iraq and Libya… red lines were crossed then—WMD and all that bollox… all a pack of lies that cost many lives to create a regime change—to gain what? Oil, chaos – take your pick.

Right now we have the two most powerful men on the planet arguing the toss, one snubbing the other and behaving like a spoilt kid. This does not look good. But now look what’s happening in Europe; Ukraine is the bone of contention now and guess what? Germany and France are shaking in their shoes because they know Putin is unpredictable. The current migration debacle is a small fly in the overall political ointment in this part of the world.

The Germans are so paranoid about Russia, they probably think Putin wants to rebuild the Berlin Wall (they might be right). And France… well, they’re used to being invaded – aren’t they?

Currently there is a cease-fire agreement between Ukraine and rebel (Russian) forces in eastern Ukraine. That’s about as believable as the non-existent Cold War and the KGB, which makes us think about that much used tool of the media – Propaganda, which is currently riding high on the emotive scenes of drowned Syrian children. They drowned because their parents were fleeing from a war zone that has been going on for quite some time (4 years). So the question springs to mind: why, all of a sudden is Europe being overwhelmed by hundreds of thousands of desperate people from Syria? Do they know something we don’t?

Why isn’t this tide of humanity heading for wealthy neighbouring Arab countries like Saudi Arabia; United Arab Emirates, Iran or even Turkey where they travel through anyway to get to Europe? Maybe it is because Russia provides the Assad regime with its weapons and back up for its Russian made military equipment, which tells them that Assad reigns supreme… and maybe that is why nobody is headed for big empty Russia.

I am just an ordinary bloke with nothing else better to do than write, but I like to think beyond the shite the likes of Rupert Murdoch feeds my fellow countrymen and women.

Anyway, just thought I’d talk politics (bollox) for a change by way of procrastinating, so now I’ll get on with my screenwriting.

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BLOWN.

BLOWN.

BLOWN, is the title of my latest screenplay. This is a spec-script, so called because I wasn’t commissioned to write it. Written entirely of my own volition; a need to create a piece of work about an idea using real people as the characters, people who I met on my travels.

There are two female assassins in the story, they are Al Qaida terrorists. I utilised my experience with female ETA terrorists (who I knew personally) to create these two beautiful jihadists. The terrorist skills differ somewhat in so much as the ETA girls were bombers and the Arab ladies are snipers. Nevertheless, their fanaticism for their causes is equal.

The other people in the story are clones of IRA terrorists who I knew from my time in Ulster; Arab drug lords, senior officials in the judiciary, police, military, politics and immigration (not in UK),  and phantoms of the night on North African beaches who loaded my boat with cannabis resin… every single one of them a law breaker.

On the side of ‘Good’ (for want of a better word), are people who I met during my military career. Dedicated professionals in pursuit of terrorists. They are the people I use in the employ of the British Secret Service. They are characters I know well because I used them in my book, ASSASSINS CODE 1, which, fortunately I own the film rights to because I am about to adapt that book as a screenplay.

I decided to write this blog to answer the questions my friends ask me time and again. So to give you a taste of what writers do, I will add a ‘logline’ and a very short treatment/synopsis of BLOWN and maybe next week I will post the first ten pages or so to show you what a feature film script looks like and to give you the opportunity to critique my work. Constructive feedback is always welcome but I must tell you to contact me via my website and not on WordPress because the spam is so thick I have to delete it page by page. Anyway, have a look at the logline and treatment.

LOGLINE FOR BLOWN.

The initiation of the global jihad ends with the bang that was meant to start it.

A lone British deep cover agent (MI6), posing as a drug runner is blackmailed by Al Qaida into smuggling terrorists into Europe. He must foil their assassination plot to kill top international government officials attending the Industrial World Fair, thereby preventing a global jihad. An action packed journey into the underbelly of terrorism and drug smuggling.

SHORT TREATMENT FOR BLOWN.

A successful hashish smuggler, CASH BEASANT, comes to the attention of AQIM (Al Qaida Islamic Mahgreb), operating in North Africa. They blackmail CASH into smuggling terrorists from Africa into Europe in order to assassinate the German Chancellor, the Chinese Premier and other World Leaders attending the Hanover Messe 2012, the worlds largest Industrial Fair.

The assassination plot was planned by the Russians and Hezbollah. Double agent Shiites infiltrate the Sunni Muslim Wahhabi Sect in order to shift the blame of the assassinations to the Sunnis, who are unaware of the true targets, which include the King of Morocco.

The terrorist connection with senior police and immigration officers creates even more intrigue when the DST (Moroccan Counter Intelligence) becomes involved when they learn of the attempt on the King’s life.

The intrigue starts on a remote beach in Morocco and continues to Spain; Tangier, Casablanca, Nador, back to Spain and then to Amsterdam, culminating in Hanover, where all the surviving players die… except Cash, who is revealed at the end as being a deep cover agent for the British Secret Service (MI6). Each leg of the journey contains a loss of life incident, but the violence ends on a high note with the reunion of Cash with his sweetheart, CARMEN, who he thought was killed by his captors.

More in the near future.

Best,

Chris.

PS: Do not reply here – Use the ‘Contact’ page. (I get so much spam, I delete it page by page without reading it… Sorry.)

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PRISON MARTIAL ARTS.

PRISON MARTIAL ARTS.

In the netherworld of prison, life is far removed from life on the outside in so many ways it is difficult to choose an example of normal life to compare with prison life so I will write about what I know – and that is martial arts and its use in prison.

To quantify and qualify my blog I must tell you that I have seen the inside of eleven European prisons. I am a Yondan (4th dan) black belt in Ju-jitsu and Karate and an ex-professional soldier (Combat Engr Class 1; Anti-interrogation/indoctrination instructor, SASC Small Arms instructor and other qualifications ‘Confidential’). I do have documentation to uphold my qualifications.

Anyway, getting back to prison and martial arts: For most people the processing into prison; entering your first cell, experiencing contact with other prisoners and screws (prison officers), experiencing your first xenophobic verbal confrontation, taking your first communal shit, taking your first shit in your cell with your cell-mates looking on, trying to sleep during your first night with all the strange new sounds of screams and door banging and on and on I can go. But fuck all that – you are going to be stressed out big time anyway.  So, what about martial arts?

I am not taking you down the old dusty road of: ‘Which martial art is best for prison – or anywhere else?’ No, there are a million arguments about that old chestnut; I am telling you about the way it is and how being a martial artist sets you aside from other prisoners who are not so lucky to be a trained martial artist… regardless of style.

The first realisation when the big iron gates clang shut behind you is that you are in a very dangerous place – and guess what? There ain’t no getting out. I can only speak as a martial artist so in my case it was instant mental re-adjustment; a phenomena lacking in many men entering prison. It would take too many pages to adequately explain this, but I have witnessed many men lose their belongings and teeth in the first few hours of prison life. Your mental awareness is the very first weapon in your martial arts armoury; blocks, kicks and punches are a very close second.

We can talk about styles all day, but in my opinion they are all great because they all provide the very first weapon in the armoury: mental awareness. You can have all the techniques in the world up your sleeve, but lacking in mental awareness always ends with you waking up with a crowd around you.

On my first day in the prison yard a Spanish gypsy tried to shank me. It ended badly for him… and his tribal brother, who like most Spanish gypsies, think they are Bullfighters. Had I not been mentally alert I would most certainly have been injured, scarred for life, or even worse.

There are no rules in prison; no romantic notions of codes like the warrior’s code, the black code, the white code. No, there’s none of that old crap – just the gypsy code of ‘sneak up behind and shank his kidneys,’ God should have given us a rear view like wing mirrors or an eye in the back of our heads. Or better still… no, I shan’t say that.

Moving on from mental alertness, blocks are the next most important weapon because unless you are doing the pre-emptive strike, you are the one receiving the first blow and because you are a trained martial artist, you will naturally (hopefully) deflect it and respond with a nerve wrecking, bone crunching demonstration of merciless violence for all to see – providing the very best deterrent for the on looking sociopaths, cannibals, paedophiles, rapists and the odd gangster. Believe me, you are a foreigner trespassing in their land and that is how most of them think of you. You will soon learn to be aware of that and it will live with you long after you gain your freedom.

Another aspect requiring contemplation is that you are alone and everyone else seems to belong to a tribe; either Spanish gypsy; Moroccan Arab, Algerian Arab or some other African lunatic group. Consequently, you need to prepare for multiple attackers. In my case, I soon had lone foreigners joining me at the ‘English’ table in the comedor (dining hall, canteen) because safety in numbers is the key to survival in foreign prisons. How this happened to me is written in detail in my book, ‘Carabanchel’.

That’s all for now but I will continue this blog in a few days time.

Walk in peace.

Chris.

Please do not use the comments feature. Use the contact page instead because I get so much spam I delete it en-mass. Thank you.

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Execute Child Sex Killers

During the years I spent behind bars in foreign prisons I met many child sex killers. They were all without remorse except for their own self-pity. Some, not all are mentioned in my books.

I am not a psychologist, nor am I qualified in any ‘shrink’ capacity, but having met these awful men and being a father myself, my conclusions are that they should be put to death immediately after being proven guilty.
I understand people who think execution is the easy way out for the child sex killer, but we need to consider the loved ones of the victim and the mental anguish they endure daily as they think about what goes on behind bars.
I will now tell you about things the media seems not to want to reveal or besmirch their pages with.

Nonce (paedophiles) lifers accept their sentences more easily than other prisoners. The life sentence is assimilated and made more acceptable mentally because they are frightened of the consequences of being released back into a hostile society. This fear is a buffer and helps them to endure their long sentence.

Their lifestyle in prison is much better than, let’s say, a homeless individual who lives rough on the streets of London. They have many home comforts like television and radio, and at least three good meals a day. They have a comfortable room which they can arrange to their liking and they furnish it with familiar items from visiting relatives.

The unpalatable visions for the victim’s loved ones are the homosexual partnerships they form with their ilk. Child sex killers performing anal sex and oral sex with each other whilst visualising their bestial acts on the children they killed to achieve sexual gratification.
How would you feel if you had recently buried the sad remains of your child after he or she had been mutilated and slaughtered by a nonce that is now living his life in surroundings they accept and enjoy? I know how I would feel.

I have had to endure the company of these evil men because in foreign prisons they are not segregated like they are in the UK. I have witnessed them enjoying themselves and making the best of their lot in prison. They have wanted to talk to me because I am different, I am an Englishman and they have never met an Englishman before.

I have looked into their evil eyes and I am proud to say that I have blackened a few of them. I have beaten some of them to within an inch of their lives and for the life of me; I couldn’t find any remorse, even though they have never harmed my children. So how must victims loved ones feel?
If you are a prison psychologist you probably disagree with me because if they started executing these creatures, you wouldn’t have so many nutters to play with. Also, you may like to remember this: they do not say the things to you what they say to the likes of me.

They will never reveal to you what makes them tick, but I know… the relentless pursuit of brutal, ripping, child sex makes them tick, and if ever they get out of prison they will strike again.
If you read my prison writing you will discover that I am in no way politically correct, but I do know what is right when it comes to child sex killers: put them to death so that victims’ families can get some closure and grieve without thinking about masturbating and humping nonce queers behind prison walls.

It is my opinion that nonces are not frightened of the consequences of getting caught. It is time to change that lack of fear and I say, ‘Put them to death.’

Please use my contact page for your comments.

 

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Locked Up With A Nutter (Sociopath)

I was a remand prisoner in Malaga prison (Alhaurin de la Torre) in 2001. I spent twenty months in that hole and I was released on Christmas Eve 2002.

During my incarceration I had the misfortune to share a cell with a killer; a nutter with no conscience whatsoever, a real psychopath. This creature should never be allowed out of prison because he will kill and kill again. His name is David Baxendale, a name I’ll never forget because he bragged about the innocent lives he took. His glib tongue soon wore thin the superficial charm he tried on me before he started bragging about his crazy parasitic life.

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Daredevil Drug Runner

The Daredevil Drug Runner.

Production Journal Extract.

I discovered the Production Journal written by Tim Riding, one of the producers at Raw TV,London. It is very interesting reading and provides an insight into the hectic day to day lives of movie makers. This journal can be seen on the National Geographic web page of ‘Locked up Abroad’ the episode titled: The Daredevil Drug Runner.

The reason I picked this piece of the journal is because I have just viewed the DVD sent me by the American digital team to enable a live tweet between me and the American audience this week.

On viewing the DVD, I find that the scenes involving my escapades at sea have been omitted. What a shame! Especially after all the hard work put in by the production team and actors and more so for me because the most exciting parts of my story happened at sea. And it would have shown the audience something new and added another deterrent to high seas smuggling.

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An Angel In Disguise

It was winter, 2007 when I was extradited from France to Spain. After first being incarcerated in the Douai dungeon, I was transferred to Fresnes prison near Paris. Fresnes is notorious for being the harshest prison in France but I was soon to find myself in a much darker place.

I stood on tiptoe to see through my cell window, the falling snow, wispily settling on the coils of razor wire mounted around the high walls of Daroca prison. The night was coming in fast so it was disheartening to see the shadows across the bleak countryside through the coils of wire as my spirits fell to a new low.

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