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Tattoo nightmare…

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The Latest (true) News From Hull...UK (Or so I'm told!)

Buttock Tattoo Terror Lands Hull Pair in Hospital

A furious row has broken out between a local tattoo artist and his client after what started out as a routine inking session, left both of them requiring emergency hospital treatment.

Vintage film fan and part time plus size model Tracey Munter (23), had visited the Black Ink Tattoo Emporium in Carr Lane last week to have the finishing touches applied to a double buttock representation of the chariot race scene from the iconic 1959 film, Ben Hur. Tattooist Jason Burns takes up the story.

“It was a big job in more ways than one.” he told us “I’d just lit a roll up and was finishing off a centurions helmet. It’s delicate, close up work. Next thing is, I sense a slight ripple in her buttock cleavage area just around Charlton Heston’s whip, and a hissing sound – more of a whoosh than a rasp – and before I know what’s happening, there’s a flame shooting from her arse up to my roll-up and my beards gone up like an Aussie bush fire.”

Jason says he rushed to the studio sink to quell the flames, only to turn round and see Tracey frantically fanning her buttock area with a damp towel. The flames had travelled down the gas cloud and set fire to her thong which was smoking like a cheap firework.

“To be honest”, said Jason, “I didn’t even realise she was wearing one. You’d need a sodding mining licence and a torch to find out for sure. She could have had a complete wardrobe in there and I’d have been none the wiser.”

Jason and Tracey were taken to Hull Royal Infirmary A&E where they were treated for minor burns and shock. Both are adamant that the other is to blame.

“I’m furious” said Jason, “I’ve got a face like a mange-ridden dog and my left eyebrow's not there any more. I don’t know about Ben Hur – Gone With The Wind’s more like it. You don’t just let rip in someone’s face like that. It’s dangerous.”

But Tracey remains both angry and unrepentant;

“I’m still in agony,” she said, “And Charlton Heston looks more like Sidney bloody Poitier now. Jason shouldn’t have had a fag on the go, and there’s no way I’d guff on purpose. He’d had me up on his bench on all fours for nearly an hour. I can only put up with that for so long before nature takes its course. My Kev knows that. I give him my five second warning and I’d have done the same for Jason, but I didn’t get chance – it just crept out.”

Ted Walters from the Humberside Fire and Rescue service wasn’t surprised when we told him what had happened “People just don’t appreciate the dangers.... “he told us, “We get called out to more flatulence ignition incidents than kitchen fires these days, now people have moved over to oven chips. We have a slogan ‘Flame ‘n fart – keep ’em apart’. Anyone engaging in an arse inking scenario would do well to bear that in mind in future.”
 
You’d need a sodding mining licence and a torch to find out for sure. She could have had a complete wardrobe in there and I’d have been none the wiser.”
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Glad it's only my upper body that gets inked :lol:
 
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Hull . . . The UK's City of Culture :laughing-rolling:.

The country's gone to the dogs I tell you :icon-wink:.

Bob.
 
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Come now Bob, Doesn't this sort of thing come under the heading of , ahem…'Art'? Is not Art in the same neighbourhood as 'Culture' ?

On second thoughts, with a name like Tracey 'Munter' …you may be right there. :lol:
 
Reminds me of Ronnie Barker's classic story of Rindercella .

This is the story of Rindercella and her sugly isters. Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Rindercella worked very hard frubbing sloors, emptying poss pits, and shivelling shot. At the end of the day, she was knucking fackered. The sugly isters were right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge, and the other was called Betty Swallocks; they were really forrible huckers; they had fetty sweet and fetty swannies. The sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball, but the cotton runts would not let Rindercella go. Suddenly there was a bucking fang, and her gairy fodmother appeared. Her name was Shairy Hithole and she was a light rucking fesbian. She turned a pumpkin and six mite wice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dandy ronkeys who had buge hollocks and dig bicks. The gairy fodmother told Rindercella to be back by dimnlight otherwise, there would be a cucking falamity. At the ball, Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when suddenly the clock struck twelve. "Mist all chucking frighty!!!" said Rindercella, and she ran out tripping barse over ollocks, so dropping her slass glipper. The very next day the prandsome hince knocked on Rindercella's door and the sugly isters let him in. Suddenly, Betty Swallocks lifted her leg and let off a fig bart. "Who's fust jarted??" asked the prandsome hince. "Blame that fugly ucker over there!!" said Mary Hinge. When the stinking brown cloud had lifted, he tried the slass glipper on both the sugly isters without success and their feet stucking funk. Betty Swallocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a knack in the kickers. This was not difficult as he had bucking fuge halls and a hig bard on. He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and it fitted pucking ferfectly. Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married. The pransome hince lived his life in lucking fuxury, and Rindercella lived hers with a follen swanny.
 
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You have my sympathy there Dave, there's some evil ones about this year. I'm still trying to get shot of the tail end of a real bad sneezy head cold and Lynn, poor thing, has been barking like a St Bernard for over a week now. I've heard various timescales for getting rid of the cough from 3 to 6 weeks!

Hope you feel better soon.
 
I think I'm going down with something too, bugger.

Woke up with a banging head and soreness at the back of my nose this morning....
 
I joined the queue for my free 'OAP' anti-flu jab in November . . .

Hopefully I'll avoid the bad stuff but its either -6 or +10C here these days which is guaranteed to bring on something.

Now out to 'the shed' - where I have a Transfer Box in bits for someone, my daughter's RAV4 waiting for me to strip the top end of the 2.2l D-4D to see if it needs a head gasket or new head, and my '90' still in bits. Happy New Year :doh:.

Bob.
 
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