I’m a little disappointed. I really wasn’t hoping to persuade anyone that they wanted a tattoo; was more hoping to provide a space for flights of fancy. In fact you largely turn out to be resolutely opposed to modification of your perfect forms, which of course is fine, cos you are all so pretty.
So Mike, Graybo, Lisa and Doctor Pockless can sit outside with a glass of water between them, keeping an eye on Asta in case she rushes in and gets herself a regrettable tramp stamp. Better get her a coffee too.
In the studio and drowned out by the buzzing of needles, Lyle is having birds drawn all over him and Gordon is self-medicating with gin, with which I can rather empathise right now. Pigwotflies is bravely having wings tattooed across her back and taking hot chocolate with baileys through a straw. Hot drinks also for Clair, whose wing’ed snail is creeping across her foot; and more gin for Aquarion, currently lost in his own maze accompanied by an imaginary pony.