The Tattoo Ink Scare...

Meccano Sagtrouser's sketch of Toniatellene's latest tattoo


Elias Sagtrouser has been regaling me about the recent antics concerning his stupid son Meccano and his squeeze, Toniatellene Nougat, Spinster of this Parish.

Over several pints of Spitfire, I learned some interesting facts, and it is these gems of knowledge which I can now impart to my three readers.

It's all to do with the latest furore regarding the removal of implants; you know, the ones made from carbide and heavy water by the French. Well, Toniatellene's mother, (now long fled with a copper cable expert), gave her some implants for her sixteenth birthday present, admittedly quite a few summers ago. Back then, these enhancing structures were paid for in cash, and the operation was performed by the light of a passing bus, but at least they weren't going to explode! Well, they wouldn't being made out of Cyril Lord underlay would they! But I digress.

Elias, after three more pints and two beef sandwiches, continued his verbal destruction of the human race in venerable tones and horseradish fumes. I listened obediently, because there's always a big ending to his interminable stories, some of which have been known to last for several days and nights.

He has been making a thriving business from The Tattoo Ink Scare. "What", two of you may ask, as the third wouldn't have read this yet? I'll say it again, THE TATTOO INK SCARE! Apparently, there has been much said about how some tattoos have been administered to the various bodies, young and old, who demand these embellishments. One unfortunate problem has emerged from a previously unseen paper by an ex-government minister, who will be nameless, (Bert Grope, Lab, Oopnorth Central) whose researcher found that some tattoos had been drawn using a machine with Belgian needles, and worse, they're coloured with Nigerian ink!

Now this is 'mind-blowing', (In fact, Elias was more explicit - even Anglo-Saxon on this fact, but with several beef sandwich crumbs still adhering to various parts of his body, and a small puddle of beer collecting at his elbow, I'll leave the exclamation description to your imagination), because everyone knows that the Belgians are normally excruciatingly honest about their business regime, whereas, the ink which comes out from some areas of Nigeria, especially as most of it is used to write letters to obtain bank details from people in Harlesdon, may well have all sorts of contamination in it! The mind boggles!

So when Toniattelene demanded that her doctor remove her tattoos, (not her underlays), he told her to p*** off, and not waste his time, as there is a sizeable acreage of silly blue flowers and bird shapes plastered all over her body. Meccano is almost as bad, and he has to live with the bad spelling he told his tattooist to scrawl on his chest when he first met his sweetheart, 'Tonybliaralone' all those summers ago, (he had an ear infection and couldn't actually understand her name).

So Elias is now finishing his story, and it has indeed an interesting ending, and not unwelcome at 11.30 pm, when I am tired and want to go to my bed. He has employed his idiot son to tour the clubs and pubs of various late night districts with a collection of cards. On one side, is the comment that 'Some tattoos have poisonous ink', and on the other side is printed 'Come to Elias Sagtrouser's Emporium for tattoo removal on a budget'!

So I have to ask my good friend what he's really doing.

"Oh, it's easy", he says ordering a last round yet again, "I sell 'em a bottle of paint stripper and a brush, and tell them to do it themselves! Cheaper that way isn't it, and we're on our second lorry-load already"!