With the heat-induced decline in clothing surface area, I'm pleased to announce the commencement of bad tattoo season. Yay. There was a woman ahead of me in the queue in M&S for my lunch who had stars tattooed on the back of her neck. Five of them, but only three where filled in, like she'd give herself a fairly mediocre review.
Then there's someone on the mothership who I noted has 'Daddy' tattooed on her foot. Mildly creepy, you may think, but I noticed then that it actually says
Daddy
loves me
Which is a bit, erm, odd.