Paul Gascoigne's Tree

Now that the pandemic is over and Brexit is all sorted, it was a slow day for news at Metro yesterday, when they reported that:

When I was about twelve, I heard a joke about a guy who had a similar tattoo that read LUDO. Except that it could also advertise a well-known Welsh seaside resort when it appeared in (ahem) fuller form.

Paul Gascoigne (who he ?) was the footballer who could always rise to the occasion and score, but always seemed to get himself into emotional scrapes of one sort or another.

His latest news is rather worrisome. It made me realise in an instant how small and beige my life has been. And how private. And it raised lots of questions that I had never had to consider before. Yesterday morning.

First of all, the obvious question is: Why would anybody do that ? Some questions are better parked than answered, and this is one of those. The only possible answers I can come up with are more troubling than the question itself. Definitely best parked, and then you can get to the really interesting stuff.

Portrait or landscape ? And what on earth happens to the aspect ratio ? My telly makes people look tubbier than they really are, but you get used to it until suddenly proper proportions are restored and people look like beanpoles. But in Paul’s case, that squat oak is going to look oddly etiolated if it’s in portrait mode. And the detail will be lost if he chose landscape.

And what sort of tree ? Hopefully something like a poplar with a columnar habit. Clearly nothing pendant, like a weeping willow or cherry. A nut-tree ? Well, perhaps a good choice. Avoid all hollies: way too prickly. Did he opt for some sapling or go full sequoia ? And if so, where do the branches go ? Something pollarded might be the answer.

And as for the process, well, where to start ? How did this Michelangelo of tattoos get PG to hold still ? And how did he get the canvas full size for the complete session ? Viagra and an anaesthetic ? Having your subject generally yelping with pain is not going to make the process smooth. Some kind of stunning might be necessary. Is there a specialist tattooing clamp known only to the cognoscenti ? Ouch.

What season is it down there ? A wintry tree might be easier to realise than some May extravaganza with a zillion leaves. Or how about all the golden glows of autumn ? Deciduous or evergreen ? It is all about mood, I guess.

Has it any wild-life in it ? A tiny owl, perhaps, or a tree-creeper ascending gingerly. Or maybe a chimp or something exotic ? Who’s to say if the tree is indigenous ? Is there a tree-house or a rope swing ?

Once your mind starts to apply some brain cells to this headline, it’s hard to get away from it. Like being asked not to think of a pink elephant for 10 seconds, during which all you manage to think about is a succession of pink elephants traipsing across your brain-waves.

Come back Brexit. All is forgiven…