Colourful neo-traditional tattoo of a blue TARDIS police box with a ringed orange planet and stars, placed on the calf.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

TARDIS police box in a space scene

Neo-trad · Calf · Colour · Photo

A blue TARDIS police box with its POLICE BOX sign sits at the centre of the design, framed by purple and orange clouds. Smaller blue and orange planets, sparkles and dots of stars fill the background against a red and orange glow. The bold outlines and saturated colour are shown on a lower leg, photographed against a dark wooden floor.

Neo-trad Calf Tardis Police box Planet Saturn Star Cloud Space

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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 box is standing in the middle of Garrow Pass with its lamp lit, and the sheep have gathered around it like a queue for a bus that never comes. You brake, the Land Rover slews on the wet tarmac, and you sit with the wipers thumping, reading the sign above the door. POLICE BOX, in letters somebody painted by hand a long time ago, and not one of them has faded.

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Nobody else is out. The pass has been shut since teatime, the radio gives you nothing but hiss and a farmer counting ewes, and the cloud sits so low it seems to rest on the bonnet. Behind the box the sky is bruised purple and lit from underneath, as if a whole sunset has got stuck in the hills. You tell yourself to drive on. Instead you open the door, and the cold comes in with you.

Inside is bigger than the outside has any right to be. A round room hums under a ceiling of tiny lights, and a woman in a yellow raincoat kneels by a brass console, muttering at a dial. "Shut the door, you're letting the weather in," she says without looking up. "Every single time with these passes. Somebody always takes the wrong road and then wants a planet to look at." She taps the glass, and beneath it a ringed world turns slowly over, orange as marmalade.

You sit on a step that was not there a minute ago. She hands you a flask of tea that tastes of cinnamon and starlight and says the road will be clear by morning. When you wake in the cab at dawn the box is gone and the pass is white and empty, but on the inside of the windscreen someone has stuck a small silver sparkle, and it holds the first light all the way down the valley.