Skin Deep 254

Skin Deep 254 18 August 2015 254

I dropped the small person off at skool early this morning for a trip to Thorpe Park. As I handed over two scruffy ten pound notes, she folded them in half, then in half again and absent mindedly fanned the loot across her lips while she pondered my 'have you got everything you need?' question.

"Don't put money in your mouth."

"I wasn't. I was just holding it by my lips."

Not being one to get drawn into a conversation I may once have had with my parents, I touched the two wires together in my head that make things come out differently and posed another question.

"What if the man that owned that money before you had an itch on his bum and stuck his hand down the back of his trousers to give it a good scratch before he bought himself some more Sardines?"

She hesitated and a look of horror appeared as the sun dawned in her head. I took it a bit further:

"What if the man who had that tenner before you snorted a big stack of cocaine with it?" I was going to add "off the back of a stripper" but figured that was a step too far - and admittedly, there are worse things to snort with a tenner, such as a line of marching fire ants but that would have gone over her head… not that the cocaine reference was exactly a bullseye but she got the picture.

"What if the woman who had it before you kept that tenner in her pocket where she also kept a stuffed frog for good luck?” Now that's a real first world thing for you to ponder over. I actually know this person.

Anyway, the message had already got through when she conjured up an image of the man with his hand stuck in his ass. She asked if she could swap them for some different notes but credit where it’s due, she figured out it could be any money that had been put in this situation.

On the way back from the skool drop-off, I had the greatest idea. Instead of wasting our breath with educating the world about tattoo health, back-street inking and trying to make sure everybody Gets Good Ink safely, we should instead go down this road and knock up some posters of this guy with his hand stuck down his pants and a catchy slogan that could become a ‘thing’ online:

“Do you know where your tattooists hands have been? Get Good Ink.”

It’s worth a shot right? Nothing else works. Back in the seventies when I was a kid, there used to be these short films on every day in which Death (yeah, that Death) would stalk an adventurous child through a field on a sunny afternoon and reap his soul if he was dumb enough to climb into an abandoned fridge and get stuck or felt like exploring a gravel pit.

I have the best ideas when I get up early in the morning.


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