Colour traditional-style tattoo on an upper arm showing a blue TARDIS police box with tentacles, a gold Dalek, a silver Cyberman and a planet against a space background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Doctor Who TARDIS, Dalek and Cyberman on upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A large colour tattoo on the upper arm shows a blue TARDIS police box with white tentacles wrapped around it, marked with POLICE BOX lettering. A gold Dalek sits at the lower left and a silver Cyberman helmet appears at the upper right, with a red planet, a moon and orange and yellow space motifs behind. Bold black outlines, flat fills and light shading define the shapes, with the design covering the upper arm and part of the shoulder.

Traditional Upper arm Tardis Police box Dalek Planet Moon Tentacle Space Doctor who

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Every year the old boys of Harrowby Grammar met in the back room of the Plough, and every year Dennis Pike arrived late with the same excuse: the bus had been taken over by geese. Nobody believed him. That was the custom.

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The year the blue box came up the lane, the rain was coming sideways and a tangle of white tentacles hung out of the hedge like washing. The box stood on the pavement with its lamp hissing, and the word POLICE ran across it twice, as if someone had told it once and had not been sure. Out of the hedge rolled a gold pepperpot on wheels, shouting that it would exterminate the hedge. Behind it walked a silver man with a bucket for a head, who said nothing at all but took a square of cloth from his belt and polished the gutter.

The door opened and a woman in a long coat asked whether anyone had seen a tin soldier with a grievance. Dennis stepped forward. Forty years earlier Ronnie Shaw had put his shoes in the school pond, and Dennis had never once been able to say so. The pepperpot rolled up to him, swivelled, and announced that Ronald Shaw was dead. The silver man nodded at the gutter as if this settled something.

They drove back to Harrowby in the box, which was bigger inside than the skittle alley, and Dennis was set down at his own gate at five past eight, a full hour before the last orders bell. It was the first time in forty years he had arrived anywhere on time. Nobody at the reunion believed him. That was the custom.