Ink

Long before the Japanese inspired art sleeve tattoos were made popular by big biceped police officers , home made tattoos were the prerogative of tough little sailors, regular old lags and of riff raff
There is nothing more creepy than a bad tattoo.
Years ago I once had to bath a psychiatric patient who suffered from a general paralysis of the insane ( for those that don't know GPI is a particularly nasty dementia caused by untreated  syphilis )
He was a former sailor who was covered in home made tattoos, most of which where depictions of the sexual abuse and degradation of women.
I hated washing him. I hated the feeling of his skin. I hated reading the "I fucked Delores" statement on his skinny breastbone and I hated looking at images of big breasted women tinged blue/ white by hypoxia and paper thin old skin.
I wore gloves when I bathed him , not because I was worried about the syphilis.
I felt dirty touching him because of the tattoos.
On his forearm was a line of small daggers. These I was told was a visual representation of the number of men he had stabbed during a lifetime of crime.
There was, however one small tattoo that reminded me that this little terrier of a bad guy was in some way human
Over his knuckles was dotted the inked message
I 🖤 My mum