And the barrister used to running a multi-million dollar legal business was reduced to using cigarettes as barter to make sure he got food for a special diet designed to save his life.

Now he is out on parole and starting to re-build a life destroyed after serving a year of two-year prison sentence for fraud.

But he said his time behind bars gave him an insight into the prison system from the inside.

And he is not short of ideas on how improvements could be made in a bid to turn out `graduates' who are less likely to re-offend.

Mr. Vaucrosson said: "The prison officers have a very difficult job to do.

But as I understand it, they were not trained for the Westgate Correctional Facility.

"They came straight from Casemates -- all the plans they had for training the officers for rehabilitation never came to fruition.

"We have such a tremendous volume of recidivism, it's shocking. I've seen fellows go out and come back in again in the time I was there.

"And -- unfortunately -- when they come back in it's like old home week. They touch base with the officers, they touch base with their friends.'' Mr. Vaucrosson said there are classes available for prisoners to improve their skills -- and their chances of getting a job on the outside.

But he added: "I don't see many people going to them. Many have the attitude that the judge didn't say they had to go to class.

"There is no suggestion that that if they go to class, things will look better for them later on.'' And Mr. Vaucrosson called for Westgate being turned into an anti-crime `university' -- with the emphasis on educating prisoners out of offending by giving them self-confidence and pride.

Vaucrosson reflects on his time in prison He said: "We have got to turn the prison into a school where education is almost compulsory so when men leave Westgate they've got a graduate certificate in something.

"If they don't they shouldn't be entitled to early release and they don't get credits -- they are just released when their time's up.'' He said some inmates who had high school leaving certificates could neither read or write properly.

And the highly-educated lawyer turned teacher in a bid to help his fellow prisoners, teaching constitutional law and human rights legislation to packed classes.

And he said with pride: "Thirteen of them graduated -- they didn't get a degree or anything else, but it gave them a good understanding.'' But he has already gone on record criticising the Prison Service for strangling prisoners' attempts to help themselves with bureaucratic red tape.

Mr. Vaucrosson added he also hit up against a major generation gap he never realised was so serious.

He said: "The youth which are coming into Westgate is shocking -- they have an attitude and a half. They're not being trained at all and we have to insist on that.'' Mr. Vaucrosson formed his insider's viewpoint after his life crashed around him following a Supreme Court conviction for stealing nearly $400,000 from the estate of journalist Percy Ball, who died in 1987.

The Crown proved to a jury's satisfaction that he used the cash to pay off personal debts.

Mr. Vaucrosson, however, while accepting his liability for the missing cash as head of the firm which bore his name, still insists he is innocent of a crime and is pressing ahead with an appeal against his conviction.

The second generation barrister, whose father Arnold was also a member of the then-Colonial Parliament, was jailed despite expert evidence from a top US heart specialist that a jail term could kill him.

Dr. James Revkin said Mr. Vaucrosson was a walking timebomb, suffering from severe heart and lung disease aggravated by being grossly overweight.

Mr. Vaucrosson, however, lost more than 80 pounds in prison by sticking to a special low-salt diet -- even though he was often forced to bribe kitchen staff with cigarettes to ensure he was not eating himself into the grave.

Mr. Vaucrosson admitted that life as a prominent lawyer was not an ideal preparation for a jail sentence and that he faced resentment from some prisoners.

Pictures of his grandchildren stuck up in his cell were stolen and he occasionally had things thrown at him.

Mr. Vaucrosson admitted: "I felt nervous about some of them -- I felt nervous being near fellows who had nothing to lose.

"I always felt lifers should be in a separate prison. They have a different attitude. Being locked down or additional time doesn't mean anything to them.'' But he added: "My career meant I met different people from different walks of life, so you do learn to adapt. And I saw several old clients who had been up there for years.

"There are always little threats made against you, but you learn to ignore them and get on with your business.'' Mr. Vaucrosson declined to comment on controversy surrounding the availability of drugs in prison.

But he added: "You can make of that what you will.'' Mr. Vaucrosson spent most of his sentence in the main prison, but was transferred to the Prison Farm.

He said one problem prisoners faced was the haphazard approach to the enforcement of prison rules, which was made worse by two different sets of regulations for Westgate and the Prison Farm, where he spent the latter part of his sentence.

He added: "I finally got a set of rules at Westgate after asking several times. There were 36 and none of them were enforced properly.

"I couldn't understand why people threw trash out the windows. But they have been trained by no-one saying anything to them. But unless we make an effort, it's a waste of time.''