Sometimes you get an urge to be cheeky. Sometimes it's necessary for your sanity to treat things with a degree of cheek that allow them to be bearable. I had a certain amount of cheek about me today when I was chatting to my girl and with the young man (innocent young lad) in John Lewis. It made the conversations bearable and stopped me from launuching a full missile attack on him.

This is for my pal who has just endured another 5 hours on the operating theatre. We chatted on Thursday about it being time to stop hogging all the limelight and move over. It is time she told that bloody vile disease to go take a long walk off a short pier. It is time for someone else to get a bit of NHS luxury. Although perhaps not before the tattoo artist takes his crafted hands to her pert appendages.

That's a tremendous visual isn't it. Some hairy arsed, bearded, covered in piercings tattoo artist in a sterile NHS uniform, with a little name badge saying 'Stan - Ink Implanting Technician'/i]

Go on Stan give her an anchor and a dagger just for fun - although she says she wants a butterfly - that's way too safe!

Now put the kettle on I'm hungry and my camera is all sticky.



p.s. incase you missed it - and I know many didn't get notification - I posted 500 the other day - Woo Hoo!