The media is sometimes just downright cruel. If you were an average Joe prisoner languishing in one of the many appalling places of detention littered around this vast land, your chances of getting The Bulletin magazine to take any sort of interest in your condition would be less than zero. But if you are Rodney Adler, from Sydney’s eastern suburbs, then suddenly the Packer run Bulletin will pay you to recount tales of your jail experiences.

Don’t kid yourself, The Bulletin hasn’t suddenly taken an interest in trying to force politicians to address the serial human rights abuse that is daily life in prison for thousands of Australians who suffer from drug addiction or mental illness. No. The Bulletin just wants to sell copy and Rodney gives them that chance.

Don’t think for a moment if you race out and buy this week’s Bulletin with Jamie Packer’s fellow Cranbrook School old boy, Rodney on the front cover that you will be getting any riveting insight into prison life. Because Rodney had it easy, relatively speaking.

White collar crims – who make up a tiny proportion f the overall prison population – are the cream of the jail system. They get treated very well indeed, compared with the blue collar prisoner who generally comes from a background of dispossession, mental and physical abuse and who has had lack of educational opportunities – in other words someone who is the antithesis of former corporate high flyer Rodney.

The Bulletin’s editor in chief John Lehmann says Rodney Adler’s story “seeks to build on our understanding of what prison life is like for inmates and their families.” Poppycock, it does nothing of the sort.

It is simply Rodney telling us all how unsafe he felt in jail, how he thought Muslim prisoners were going to kill him because he was a high profile Jew, and how he learnt to survive by trading coffee and tobacco with fellow prisoners.

With respect Rodney, if that’s the worst that happened to you in jail then you were on easy street. A description of the reality of everyday prison life for the average marginalised crim doing time for burglaries, armed robberies or drug offences can be summed up by one word – hell.

It is a system in which brutality and bullying by prison officers is routine. A life in which there is little or no educational opportunity available for prisoners. A life in which drug addicts come out more addicted than when they went in. A life where sexual assault and bashings are ignored by prison authorities. And it’s a life where people are locked up for up to 18 hours a day in small dark cells. At least Rodney got to do a cooking class – a privilege denied to most prisoners.

So moved was Rodney that he says he wants to pay a lawyer full time to help prisoners who can’t afford legal assistance. Why then has Rodney donated the fee he received from The Bulletin – and no doubt it will be a nice fat one – to a Jewish charity? Why not contribute it to a group like Justice Action which works on the smell of an oily rag to help prisoners in New South Wales and which gets zero political support.

What’s the bet The Bulletin’s expose on prison life is a one off and the poor bastards in our jails are forgotten until the next convicted celebrity decides to make a buck writing a story about life inside.

What real prisoners write about:

These are extracts from letters received by me over the past 12 months from prisoners convicted of sexual assaults, armed robberies etc – all are men from the other side of the tracks. In other words prisoners for whom no one speaks.

“I cannot help to feel victimised in this instance as every other instance before this as I have consistently received from the authorities a fluctuating progression of ‘Bastardisation’ every 3-6 months with tactics such as cell searches being conducted up to 3 times a day, prescribed medication and other items being removed from my cell and cancelling scheduled appointments to have xrays on a suspected sprained hand. When I went to the doctor 15 days later, the hand was broken with potential serious long term damage as a result of it not being treated immediately”

“During lockdown we were without showers for 5 days, no access to exercise for 5 days, no laundry for 5 days, cells not aired for 5 days, power switched off without notification.”

“I requested a toilet seat for my cell and a toilet roll. The toilet roll took two hours to turn up and the toilet seat 2 weeks!”