Wanna Be in My Gang?
When you get a tattoo done – it can be a bit like entering into a brotherhood or a secret society. Sometimes you’ll see someone – a stranger – in a bar, or on a bus or wherever – and you’ll start eyeing up their tattoos. Sometimes you’ll recognise who did the tattoos – especially if you’ve been to the same place. At those times, I always feel tempted to go over and start a conversation, although I never do. Some people like talking about their tattoos, some don’t. For me, it usually depends on who’s asking the questions.
Twice recently, I’ve seen people with Liam Sparkes stuff done – his style is unmistakable. One was a man on the bus with a crown on the back of his hand, another was a barmaid with a penny-farthing bicycle on her bicep. I’ve got plenty of Liam Sparkes stuff done – he did the “Vlad” on my arm for example. I get more questions about that tattoo than any other – but there’s no rational way to justify it – I just like it. It’s not a unique piece – it’s almost like his trademark in fact. I remember when I was getting it done, he said that he’d like to gather all the people together who he tattooed it on – and get them to do a big Thundercats roar. I’d be well up for that idea.
So anyway, I live in an enclosed block of communal flats, and on Sunday, I met one of my neighbours for the first time. He started talking about my tattoos and used it as an excuse to touch me. Practically molested me there in the garden, the dirty swine. I’ll be wearing long sleeves from now on.
It’s often said that people look down on those with tattoos, but in truth, sometimes the reverse is true. I’m sad to say, that often the tattooed ones think they are cooler than everyone else.
I was on the bus the other day and there was a girl – probably about 20-years old – who had a couple of tattoos on her knee: a simple thunderbolt and a skull. It was really unusual and damn sexy too. I was also impressed, as I know what knee tattoos feel like. I fell in love with her for about 10 minutes (as I tend to do in these situations).
She saw me looking though, and in an instant I could see what she thought of me:
“How dare you look at me and my tattoo?! You’re not cool enough to have tattoos – you haveabsolutely no idea what it feels like to sit through a knee-cap tattoo. Just go away and die, baldie!”
Or something to that effect. But actually I have a huge tattoo on my knee, so fuck her!