JUNKIE
This time last year I had this done:



Took fucking ages, lost more blood and went through more pain than the average woman going through the mere trifle of a thirty-eight hour labour (probably twins with fucking HUGE heads) - but wasn't a patch on the fucking incredible bone-crunching agony of having a load of girly swallows and flowers inked on my chalk farm (that's Landan for arm; I am learning cockney and will soon be able to sell fake Rolexs and assorted stolen goods from a suitcase with the best of um).

I hadn't eaten a fucking thing all day. Passed out at Turnpike Lane tube station (thank you to the lovely young lady who gave me some of her Easter Egg to bring me round), and when I got back to the shared house I passed out again and when I woke up my arm was stuck to the duvet with blood and scabs.

Only one thing for it.

After a swift and nourishing chicken & mushroom pot noodle it was time to go clubbing with my mate Steve and his strange, strange, strange goth mate, Hans.

We ended up in a dodgy little fucking place just near Mornington Crescent tube station. After a couple of beers the rejuvinating effects of the pot noodle were, to put it technically, fucked.

I was in a bad way.

I staggered to the bogs and promptly passed out on the shitter. In doing so I knocked my arm (£550 quid that fucker cost), on the slimey tiled walls, which started the bastard bleeding again.

Now, I was out of it. So this is what I think happened. A member of staff was collecting glasses, noticed an alarming trail of blood trickling under the doorway, and called the bouncers.

"Mate..." came a voice from fucking laa-laa land. "Mate..."

Knock-knock-knock.

"I think I've lost all my blood" I whimpered.

"Stand back mate!"

CRACK!!!

And the cubicle door flew open. And they found me, blubbering away, snot streaming from my nose, my arm leaking a shitload of claret. So much so that I'd turned my white shirt red. I looked like an extra from Saving Private Ryan.

The bouncer looked down at me. I looked up at him. There were several other concerned faces peering over his shoulder.

He said: "Where's the needle, mate?" He obviously thought I was a heroin addict. I know I'm a bit fucking skinny, but fuck me... "How much have you done?"

Now, I was a bit confused. When he said needle I thought he meant tattoo needle. I said proudly: "I've had it for six hours straight today, my arm looks like a pin cushion - wanna look???"

He didn't.

When he could see I wasn't going to die imminently and was perking up a bit, he lifted me up by the scruff of my neck and tossed me out onto the street. The cunt.

And then I went home in a cab, I did really well, I only passed out another couple of times on the way.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago I'm down at this dive again with the Mrs. We're enjoying ourselves, dancing a little bit, getting pissed. When suddenly a big hand slaps down on my shoulder:

"You're not on smack tonight are you, mate?"

"Erm... No..." I say.

"Good. Keep it that way."

And I then spent a rather difficult fifteen minutes explaining to the Mrs. that I was not, in point of fact, a recovering junkie.

TIP - Although tattoos are big and clever and make you more intelligent, faster, stronger, longer, and incredibly desirable to the opposite sex, don't go clubbing after you've had a big one done. Just a bad fucking idea.
( SpankyHanky, Tue 14 Apr 2009, 16:18, 9 replies)

Nice tats!

"I think I've lost all my blood" made people look at me in a funny way.
( Moey, Tue 14 Apr 2009, 17:05, closed)

I think I've lost all my blood! Ha!
Great ink, Spanks

;)
(Grrrrr Tigers, Tue 14 Apr 2009, 23:16, closed)

I'm imagining this in the Purple Turtle.
Just because.
( gone, Wed 15 Apr 2009, 1:42, closed)

Indeed it was
purply and turtly...
( SpankyHanky, Wed 15 Apr 2009, 8:19, closed)

I used to love that place.
Though I think we christened a couple of the sofas downstairs.
( gone, Wed 15 Apr 2009, 13:41, closed)

Tattoos? Painful?
Try getting an Apadravya!
(caescarna Hell's Roomba, Wed 15 Apr 2009, 15:18, closed)

Which club?
For I feel I may well know it.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Wed 15 Apr 2009, 7:41, closed)

Tattoos
are ugly and naff.

Good story though.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Wed 15 Apr 2009, 12:45, closed)

Men with
tattoos (not your BNP bulldog kind mind) make me melt. George Clooney in Dusk 'til Dawn WOULD. I also have a soft spot for the smelly looking lil Wayne.
(fannypack, Wed 15 Apr 2009, 14:50, closed)