Community punishment is widely acknowledged as the best way of getting low-risk offenders back on the straight and narrow. And it was judged the perfect option for Robin Johnson, who was ordered to carry out 50 hours of unpaid work as part of his series of features for Inside Justice Week.

I had been told by my defence solicitor to expect a compulsory unpaid work order – the new name for community service, which is soon to change again to Community Payback. While at court, I also met Deanna Francis, a probation officer from Derbyshire Probation Service.

She interviewed me so that she could compile a Fast Delivery Report, a document which could tell the magistrates whether I was fit enough to carry out such work and my availability.

I would only have to do a fraction of those hours because in my particular case, I had not done anything wrong. The whole thing was made up in the name of Inside Justice Week, which started on Monday, hence the bogus charge, the staged court appearance and now the community service.

I arrived at the probation service’s officesand was told to take a seat in what resembled a doctor’s waiting room.

I was then called through by Doug Tutin, a community probation officer, who explained what I would be doing and the rules and regulations. The interview took an hour, which would come out of my 50 hours.

Doug asked for my personal details, state of health, my qualifications and other skills I had – or skills that I would like to learn. I said my preferred work was gardening – after spending a few hours in a prison cell following my arrest, I had gained a new appreciation of the outdoors.

When carrying out unpaid work, the offender has to put in at least six hours a week. The working day runs from 9am to 4pm.

At the end of each day they receive an hours slip, saying how long they worked and whether they worked hard and to a satisfactory standard. These hours then come off the unpaid work order.

However, as Doug explained, there are a number of rules and if I broke one I could end up back at court for breaching my order.

“The magistrates could then give you more hours, give you tougher work or send you to prison,” said Doug. “And if you are on benefits, then the authorities have the powers to take them away.”

The first rule was to be punctual, not something that many offenders are used to. Mobile phones are banned – the only person allowed one is a supervisor, who has one for emergencies. Offenders also have to bring their own lunch, as no trips to the shop are allowed during work hours.

“Most importantly, if you behave in an aggressive, racist or other unacceptable way you will be in breach of your order,” said Doug.

“It is all about showing respect for one another.

“Break any of these rules during the working day and you’ll be stood down – which is basically sent home with the hours you have worked for that day cancelled.

Before an offender starts work, they have to attend a Pre-placement Work Session – a day-long seminar explaining exactly what is required of them.

Doug and I then set off to join one of five gardening work parties that were out and about that morning.

I was taken to a car park behind some sheltered housing for elderly people in Cobden Street, Derby, where I was introduced to my supervisor, Del Sandhu.

He was co-ordinating a group of six offenders who were busily cutting back elderberry trees and hawthorn bushes.

The work was also being overseen by Mick Shaw, a caretaker for Derby Homes, which owns the properties.

Del handed me a pair of gloves and a set of clippers and told me to get on with it. After a few minutes I started to get into the swing of things and clipped away for all I was worth.

Some of the lads in my group had 200 hours to do, which sounded a lot, but then there are people who have a lot of preconceptions about community work. Some feel that it is not punishment enough and should be something not to be enjoyed, but endured.

“The punishment aspect of this work is the fact that for seven hours today these people have lost their liberty,” said Doug. “It is time they could be spending with their families or, in some of their cases, earning money from work.

“Prison just would not work for some of them. They would spend their days doing nothing except developing bitterness towards the system for what could be a silly, one-off mistake.”

“People from all walks of life come to me,” said Del. “There are those who are regularly in trouble and also people who are considered respectable.

“They have well-paid jobs or are highly educated. We have people who are on £40,000 a year doing this kind of work, such as businessmen and teachers. It’s the whole spectrum.

“But when they do community work, they are all treated the same and have to get along with one another.

“They get to meet types of people they have never met before – and learn to understand and respect them, which makes them better citizens.”

In my case, I found the people in my group quite affable and they were throwing themselves into their work.

Going through the whole process had dispelled a lot of the preconceptions I may have had beforehand about police custody, the courts and community work.

And I had seen that at each stage of the judicial system there was a reassuring level of professionalism among the different staff involved.

The debate will continue about whether or not our judicial system works. Like most things, some bits work better than others.

But speaking from my own experience, it certainly worked for me.