Shittoo

Apparently there’s a code of mutual respect amongst tattooed people; you don’t look at another man’s tattoos, wince in disbelief and say “what the fuck were you thinking, man? That’s not gonna come off, you know! You do know that, right? Everyone knows that. For fuck’s sake! Why didn’t you just cut your dick off and ram it up your ass if you wanted to fuck yourself so bad? Sheeeeet! Ah tell ya, boy, you some fucked up sumbitch. Get the fuck outta my eyes with that monster bad shit! [improvises for ten minutes]”
I don’t have a tattoo, so I say that sort of thing nearly every day. It’s still probably a bit rude, but really – it’s your own fault. It’s not like your parents had a latent genetic defect which caused you to be born with a naked woman riding a pony into a skull’s mouth on your arm. Although if there was a gene that did that, I would instantly believe in god, and sing his praises from my tiny bedroom window.
I like most tattoos. I prefer bad ones, though. Until last week, the tattoo below had been my personal favourite in the “most bafflingly ill-advised skinstain” competition. This tattoo was the one, more than any other, that left me gobsmacked with incredulous horror.
And I can’t explain why, properly. Whenever I try to explain why this is a terrible, befuddling choice of body decoration, words genuinely do fail me. Luckily, when I show it to other people, they generally say “no way is that a real tattoo, fuck off” in such an appalled gasp that I don’t need to explain. Here it is, I’ll let you react.

Hubba Bubba Madness

Does your body ache with sadness? What bothers you more – is it the tube map (for which he had to get permission from London Underground), or is it the domain name, complete with doubleyoudoubleyoudoubleyoudot?A domain name bellowed in a gothic font that would unite the Bloods, Cripps and Beckhams in a tooth-sucking free-for-all?
Well, forget that. Because last week, I walked past the worst tattoo I have ever seen on a human being.

Hello! How do YOU do?

No. Fuck you. Fuck off and fuck you. Also, fuck that. Fuck off, you, and that. Piss off. Piss and fuck off, and fuck you and that. Mathematically, if that’s me, what are you?
fuck off + fuck that + fuck you = me
divide both sides by fuck
off + that + you = me / fuck
you = me / fuck - that - off

I’m sorry. I’m burying myself in comfortable maths so I don’t have to deal with the image of the unhappy folds of melting flesh rolling down his back, and the big spot by the man’s right knee. The picture, as hideous as it is, isn’t the thing that makes me want to cry so sad Doctor. It’s the fact that it seems to be the clumsiest, most ham-fistedly in-your-face way of saying “I LIKE TRUNCHEONS UP MY ARSE”. Power to you, sir. Here is a medal the size of a dinner plate. Why not celebrate your love of truncheon-ups with a fucking huge, ugly mess on your back? Oh! You already have! My silly!
I know of one guy who’s got a really badly drawn picture of Mark Lamarr on his leg. What I wouldn’t give to waggle its chin and say “Hi, I’m Mark Lamarr! Who wants a jelly baby?”
Sigh.

6 thoughts on “Shittoo

  1. Raz

    Hello yes that is awful tattoo. But I have seen worse tattoo. It was in an article about anal piercings, which is about to make me ejacc a side-point:
    See, by all means get your anus pierced. I mean, don’t, obviously, but if you really have to, then go on. But don’t do what this man did. He was about 50, or something, and said “I had always wanted an anal piercing”. Then he said “I found a nurse who was willing to do it. First the nurse opened my anus with a speculum.” And took a photograph. And what did the nurse take a photo of? A DIRTY GREAT GLISTENING POO WAITING JUST INSIDE THE ANAL LIPS. I mean for God’s sake. Go on, get your anus pierced. But first do a poo, or clean out the poo, or something, for the sake of God.
    Nowhere in the article does it mention the poo, which somehow makes it much, much worse. It doesn’t say “After opening my anus with the speculum, the nurse found a big glistening poo. We laughed heartily for a good five minutes.” I started to think maybe I was hallucinating the poo.
    Then, to top it off, surrounding his speculum-opened poo-filled freshly-pierced and bleeding 50 year-old anus, he had a tattoo of a ring of disembodied cocks. The cocks had anuses in their balls, and were all daisy-chaining each other in an infinite Moebius Strip of bumsex. It was beautiful

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  2. Log Post author

    That is so sad that lots of cocks should have to share the same anus in their balls. If I were a Tony Blair I would give every balls their own anus.
    Also I think you should rotate the slightly smaller face tattoo a bit so when you cock your head and look thoughtful there is still a face in the normal position so people don’t get uncomfortable.

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  3. jonesy

    Having an anus in your balls might answer the age-old question ” do your balls ache when you need a big shit?”.
    It might.

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  4. ZpoonZ

    i still think the london underground map, adorned with URL is the worst.
    i mean IT’S A FUCKING MAP OF THE UNDERGROUND! what the fuck? why?
    YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOT.
    it’s not even in a place he could use it, if he gets lost.
    though i suppose it’s handy, for planning your route home, after you’ve finished dicking him IN HIS STUPID ARSE.
    i don’t think i’ll EVER see a tattoo worse than that in my life time.
    though saying that, i know someone who had hinges tattooed on the inside of his elbows. and another person that had CCFC (cardiff city football club) tattooed on his forehead BACKWARDS. i mean nothing spells out ‘i’ve just done this tattoo myself, in the mirror’ quite like a backwards tattoo.
    nice, discreet place for it to go, too.

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  5. Speedwolf

    Being a bit of a rocker and/or roller I have seen a huge amount of terrible tattoos on various people, some of which I’ve slept with and others not. Mostly not.
    One such belonged to a ex-skinhead (by which I mean he’s given up being a violent neo-nazi and not just grown hair) who had CFC etched into the inside of his lower lip. Take a second to think about that. In his lower lip. Tattooing is usually done to adorn the body with artwork that hopefully expresses your inner sense of individuality in an externalised way. To show you his tattoo he had to curl his lip down with his hands and in doing so looked like Clive the Orangutan from Everywhichway. Shocking. I would have laughed in his face had he been a foot shorter and not prone to punching people.
    Another belonged to an ex-girlfriend of mine who had an eight pointed star of chaos (Games Workshop has a lot to answer for) around her belly-button. I say had, I presume it’s still there. It’s lopsided and the points are all different lengths, so on this still very attractive young lady with a wonderfull flat stomach is this affront to all that’s beautiful. It was like some giant squashed spider. Not a very pleasant thing to have to stare up at over mons pubis I can tell you.
    Someone I know from school had every Warner Brothers cartoon character you could name tattooed over his entire body. I don’t know why. You could see the tip of Tweety Birds head peeking over the collar of his shirt. Why the fuck would you do that to yourself? Especially considering that Warner Brothers are now officially the shittest cartoons in the world.
    Last but by no-means least when I was working in Threshers whan I was a late teenager (I didn’t become a teenager until the age of 22. Badoom Tish.) a chap in his mid-forties came in to buy some rolling baccy and some rolling papers who had a huge japanese kabuki demon face inked on the dome of his napper which stretched all the way down the back of it. I can only presume that he did it in his youth thinking that he’d be able to cover it with hair if he got fed up with it. He obviously hadn’t reckoned with going bald early on. Fucking numpty.
    I could go on, but I think I’ve proved that there are worse tattoos than having the tube map on your back. Not many I’ll grant you, but there are some.
    That truncheon boy is pretty terrible mind. His arms are about 4 feet long.

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