by
Old-Nick
@ 2007-07-25 - 11:50:31
Called Dusty. Repeatedly stabbed in fact – I even lost blood, but not much.
Yep Dusty was the guy that did my tattoo, and a very nice bloke he was too.
Yesterday was a bit of a trip back down memory lane as far as nerves go. Yes I was nervous, and as the day wore on it got worse. It reminded me of the feeling of excitement and fear I used to get before a gig, but this was the grade of nervousness felt before your second gig – not as bad as the first gig nerves but pretty bad. I realised that what I was in fact worried about was not how much it was going to hurt, but if I was going to make a complete tit of myself and pass out or go wobbly! I’d look such an arse.
In fact the only way I could make the nerves go away was, erm, well, to think about sex basically.
Hey it worked, so sue me!

After work I got off the tube at Bond Street and moved in a cloud of nervous cigarette smoke towards Selfridges. On the way I found somewhere to sit and munched away at my chicken (how appropriate) sandwich and found I had a deal of trouble swallowing. Next up, or down, was the Mars bar – you have to have eaten in the last hour before getting a tatt to keep you blood sugar levels up and prevent fainting.
Another nervous ciggie was consumed and I went in. I was a bit early but I knew there were forms to fill out, so I got sat down and started on the paperwork. You basically have to tell them if you have any medical conditions, indicate on a little body outline where you want the tattoo, write a brief description of the design and the artist will sign a box stating that all is agreed and so on, so if afterwards you go “hang on! That’s a flying pig not a dragon!” you have no come back. You get what you asked for basically.
The advantages of this place being in a big department store are that it has to come up to a high level of hygiene, the disadvantages are having to listen to Amy Wine-lake singing “Rehab” as it is too close to the girly clothes department! Thank god for MP3 players.
So the buzzing in the booth stops and out comes a satisfied (and still conscious and not at all crying) customer. Then out comes Dusty. Now they say, “Never trust a skinny Chef” so for tattoo artists it should go “Never trust a tattoo artist with no tattoos” Thankfully Dusty had a very plentiful covering, like a walking catalogue basically. He smiled at me and laughed when I made an “Eeeeeep” face and told him this was my first Tatt. “Nothing to worry about – its just fear of the unknown”
So in we went, he scanned the design then tidied it up and made a transfer, chatting as he worked, we had a couple of goes getting the positioning right and it was time to do some inking.
Dusty assured me the ink gun had a bark worse than its bite and he was not a heavy-handed worker. By now I was relaxed, as we had been discussing music, bars, tattoos and having a laugh so I was ready to let him do his worst. So he did.
I can honestly say that I have been scratched by people and its hurt more! It just felt like someone drawing on you with a pen and pressing quite firmly – no little sharp stabbing pains at all! I started to laugh at one point and told dusty what a twat I had been getting all nervous.
The actual ink to skin process took less than 15 minutes, and afterwards Dusty talked me through the care regime as he put one of those clear plastic covers over the new ink.
As I left, we shook hands and he said, “See you again?” with a little knowing smile on his face.
IF
And it is a big tall if with spotlights on it and huge granite letters, if I ever get another one, I would want Dusty to do it. He was brilliant, and a very nice chap.
For a Geordie like.