I hate nasty things. I hate nasty films, even. Can't be doing with them. So why I visit torture chambers I have no idea.
This one was in England somewhere. Oop North. Can't remember. All torture chambers are pretty similar. This wasn't from all that long ago.
If you're like me you probably won't want to read any more. Don't.
There was a magistrates court next to the "prison". The accused went to the magistrates court if, for example, he stole a chicken. The magistrate sent him down if he didn't like the cut of his jib. No forensics.
There was this stone-floored shithole, with a hole in the floor to the cellar, about 20 feet down. But they didn't drop the convict down there, not just for stealing a chicken. Oh no. What they did was to tie his wrists together behind his back. Then pick him up, by the wrist-ropes, via a pulley in the ceiling. Then drop him. Halfway. If they didn't manage to dislocate his arms after a few goes of that, they tied a concrete weight to his feet and did it again. A few times.
Once they'd ripped his arms out of his sockets and dislocated his elbows and wrists, THEN they dropped him down the hole. Amazingly, some of them lived for months or years and were released.
The magistrates obviously went home and had a sumptuous meal and shag and stuff like that.
They were working for the state. The elected Parliament. Like we have now.
Yep, that was for stealing a chicken. I can't bring myself to relate what happened if they robbed the state. Or killed someone.
Personally, I'd rather be hanged. I really would.
But then, I'm not afraid of death.