Close-up of a dark script tattoo reading "it's only rock 'n' roll" on the inner forearm of a person with long blonde hair and silver rings.

Script quote on a forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A fine script tattoo reads "it's only rock 'n' roll" across the inner forearm, with the letters in a dark blue-black ink. The lettering uses thin, flowing linework with even spacing and a slight slant. The arm is held up against a chain-link fence, with a black fur vest and silver rings visible in the frame, and the subject's face is not shown.

Lettering Fine line Forearm Script Quote Lettering Text

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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 brush is loaded with blue-black enamel and Len Haskett is already tapping the tin lid against his thumb, which means you have until the kettle boils to get the first loop right. The van belongs to a man called Dennis Coe, who sells second-hand records out of the back of it outside the Hull fish market, and he wants his name across the doors in a hand that looks as though it was dashed off in one breath. You have practised on newspaper for a month. Len still says your capitals look like they're apologising.

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Dennis comes out of the cafe with a bacon roll and a sheet of paper folded in four. On it, in biro, is a line he copied from the sleeve of a record he swears he'll never sell. "It's only rock 'n' roll," he reads, mouth full, then laughs at himself for the grammar. Len wants the apostrophe and the second 'n' exactly as written. You do it twice, then a third time because the second 'n' keeps sagging. Dennis doesn't mind the wait. He sits on the step and taps his foot to nothing in particular.

By dusk the doors are dry, the lettering running from the rear handle to the wing mirror with the slant Len insisted on. Dennis drives off with the windows down and the radio on, and the line goes with him through the Hessle Road traffic, sliding past the chip shop. You watch the van until its lights are gone. Len hands you a rag and says the best thing about a good hand is that nobody stops to read it properly, they just hum along. You wipe the blue off your fingers and think he has it backwards.