Colour realism tattoo of an older man in a pinstriped suit and red tie on an upper arm, with the words COME ON DOWN beneath.

Portrait of an older man with lettering on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A realistic colour portrait of an older man with white hair, wearing a pinstriped suit jacket and red tie, sits on the upper arm. Smooth shading defines the face and clothing, and a red arch outline frames the head. The words COME ON DOWN run beneath the portrait in black lettering with dot separators.

Realism Lettering Upper arm Portrait Man Suit Tie Lettering

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The snow had been coming since teatime, and by nine the lane up to Hob Gate had vanished under it. You stand at the bar of the Crown and Lantern with a pint going flat, watching Maureen fiddle with the aerial on the old set until the picture stops jumping. Someone has pinned a paper sign to the frame that reads RAFFLE NIGHT, though nobody remembers buying a ticket, and the only thing on the screen is a game show from a studio somewhere south, where a silver-haired man in a pinstriped suit leans into his microphone and tells the room to stop hesitating.

Keep reading

You bought a ticket from Maureen at six, for a shilling and a joke, and forgot it in the top pocket of your coat. Now the presenter's mouth curls into the grin that looks practised in a mirror, and he says the words that have hung over this pub for thirty years: come on down. The brass bell above the fireplace gives a rusty tap, though nobody has touched it. Dolly Ashworth, who has not left her stool since the Coronation, gets up with her knees cracking like kindling and makes her way to the counter, and the whole room turns to watch her go.

She does not win. Maureen reads the number off the stub, squints, and then reads yours instead, because the ticket in your pocket is the one with the smudged seven that Dolly swore was a one. The prize is a silver teapot the size of a bucket, dented on one side, and Maureen hauls it across the bar with both hands and sets it in front of you with a thump that shakes the glasses.

You look at the screen. The studio audience is still cheering for someone else. Outside, the snow keeps falling on the lane, and the only sound left in the Crown and Lantern is the bell, which you ring once, carefully, just to hear whether the snow will take it.