Full sleeve tattoo in colour showing a blue TARDIS, a Dalek and a helmeted astronaut among galaxies and tentacles, on an upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Doctor Who themed sleeve tattoo

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A three-panel photograph of a full sleeve tattoo on an upper arm. It shows a blue TARDIS with POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX lettering, a grey Dalek, a helmeted figure in red, a swirling galaxy and a large eye, set against tentacles and star fields. The bold outlines and saturated colours of blue, red, green and orange give it a vivid, illustrative look.

Neo-trad Upper arm Tardis Dalek Astronaut Galaxy Space Eye Tentacle Police box Star

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the lamp, our Tom, it's the draught that'll have you, not the coal. Right, where was I. The blue box at the top of Hollin Shaft. Nobody had put it there. Mr Pryce swore on his chapel Bible that at the shift change the pit yard was bare as a plate, and at seven o'clock on a wet Tuesday there it stood beside the winding gear, lamp lit, door shut tight, like a parson waiting on a christening.

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The men gathered round it with their picks and their opinions. Then a grey tin thing came rolling out of the dust behind the box, all bolts and sucker arm, and it told the banksman he was inferior and should be cleared away. The banksman, who had never once in his life been called inferior, sat down on a tub and wept. Then the cage came up empty, except for a man in a red suit and a glass bubble helmet, grinning at the pithead as if he'd paid good money for the view.

He said his name was the Traveller and he was looking for a lad with a steady hand to hold a lamp. Nobody volunteered. So he went down the shaft himself, and the rest of us followed as far as the lamp room, where the walls had gone soft and wet with something that breathed. Down in the old seam, past a whirl of coal dust that spun on the air like sparks off a forge, there was an eye as big as a cartwheel, and tentacles curling out from between the roof props.

I'll tell you what came back up. The Traveller, with his helmet cracked and a tin box under one arm, and the lad, Dai Morgan, who'd held the lamp. Dai never went down a pit again. He took a job at the sorting table, and in the evenings he drew the blue box on the back of the rent book, every door and window, and when the lamp in his kitchen flickered he'd nod at it as though it owed him a turn. Now mind the step on the way out, and hold on to your hats.