Black script lettering reading We're mad all here with ornate swirls, tattooed across the tops of two bare feet in a lettering style.

We're mad all here script across both feet

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows two bare feet with the words "We're mad" on the left foot and "all here" on the right, set in flowing script with decorative swirls and flourishes extending along the top of each foot. The linework is bold and solid in black ink with no shading, and the skin is lit evenly against a shiny plastic backdrop. The composition is centred on the feet, with the toes and painted toenails visible at the bottom of the frame.

Lettering Other Script Quote Flourish Swirl Feet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit down, sit down, and mind the wet on that bench. You want the proper version, not the one the lads tell on a Friday. Three nights before the fair came to Carrow Street, a bloke called Dennis Vosper walked into the Lamplighter with one boot off and asked the barmaid if she'd seen his cat. She had not. Nobody had a cat on Carrow Street that year. He said it didn't matter, because the cat had been very clear about things.

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The fairground man, Solomon Greave, kept a stall of glass eyes and a brass bell that rang whenever somebody told a lie. Dennis bought a paper bag of the eyes and wandered out past the gasworks, counting lamp posts in twos. Every post he passed had a grin chalked on it, and beneath each grin was the same line in a careful schoolgirl hand: we're mad, all here. Dennis took it as the city's way of saying welcome.

By the third post he was laughing so hard he forgot his surname, and by the sixth he had lost the boot entirely and felt quite sensible for the first time in years. That is the trick of it, my dears. Madness is only the feeling of being sensible in the wrong street. Greave's bell rang out across the cobbles, and every grin on every post turned to face him at once.

Dennis is still out there, they say, walking the lamplit half of Carrow Street in one boot, handing out glass eyes to anyone who asks the way home. Mind you don't ask him. Drink up, the lock-in's ending, and I'm the only one left in here who knows which way is out.