I got a koy carp type of thing on my right fore arm, two cans of Duff beer on my legs, two Frankenstein heads on my chest and some other cryptic shit on my left arm, then I woke up.

I remember looking at the two can’s of Duff beer and saying ‘But they aren’t even done well.’ Thank god it was only a dream .

When I was a kid a tattoo meant one of three things, Armed forces, borstal or insanity. Service in the navy and an anchor tattoo was compulsory.
Borstal or juvenile delinquency tattooing was mostly self done with india ink and a needle, suffice to say the designs were diabolical, insanity produced the most extreme form of tattoo which were often on the face, usually a crucifix or spiders web, any tattoo that could not be covered up would earmark the person as either a crim, hardman or a general liability, a facial tattoo would designate the individual to the far corners of society.

I do not know just how or why the tattoo craze took a hold, it seemed to gain momentum over time and people turned into walking sketch pads.

‘Is that a tattoo of a ship on your tits,’ I asked the young lady, ‘Yes, there’s the anchor.’ she replied pulling her top up.
I see many badly tattooed women with absolutely ghastly illustrations that to me are just plain ugly, men on the other hand can cope with disfigurement.
It’s a pity someone did not invent a semi permanent tattoo, one that would expire after a certain time allowing the person to start again.

Tattoo’s certainly work for some people and I like a lot of tattoo art, Natty’s brick octopus, a friend has a picture of Bill Murray on his leg with the inscription ‘Bill Fucking Murray.’, another friend had Odin’s ravens, they all seem right for the person.

I asked a friend once ‘Danny why have you got Cecil drives a combine harvester on your arm.’ he provided no answer.


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