Thank f*** it wasn't permanant
As the proud owner of 5 tattoos, I can only thank the powers that be that I was nowhere near anywhere that could provide the real thing... otherwise I may have had to embark on a lifetime of celibacy...

A couple of years ago, having consumed a not incosiderable amount of alcohol, charlie and ket, I wound up in a club I regularly frequent. Pretty average for a Saturday night, the only difference being the venue in question, for whatever reason had set up a booth providing spray tattoos. Huzzah! thinks I and merrily handed over my £6 (cheap at twice the price!) before setting about the task of choosing my design. There was all the usual, twattish, but not heinously bad stuff - chinese/japanese/indiscrinate language symbols purporting to mean 'friends' and 'love' (more likely 'gullible' and 'fool' but i digress) and your typical celtic chavtastic tramp stamps. Any of these, while regrettable, I could have lived with, but no, not for me... what did I choose? that's right reader, what else but a roughly 7' by 5' stencilled design of Robbie Williams. On my stomach. At the time this of course seemed like the best idea i had had and possibly would ever have and off i went showing it to anyone who didn't run away from the gurner pulling its top up (not many). If i had died that night I would have died happy.

However when I was jolted out of my k hole the next morning by my alarm signalling the advent of my glamourous supermarket job, nothing could have alarmed me more than having stokes finest winking up at me. It took 6 days to come off. and I hate Robbie Williams.

The lesson? hallucinogens and body art don't mix, however temporary...

Apologise for length? i bet Robbie doesn't need to.
(Ambernj1, Fri 1 Dec 2006, 10:04, Reply)