Local bouncer douche to get GP licence plate tattoo

Citing fears that people can’t immediately tell he’s an gigantic arsehole, local area bouncer and gym squat rack hogger Blake “Bee-rad” Bradson is reportedly set to get a tattoo of his Gauteng GP car registration plates.

Bradson told reporters that this latest commissioned work, which is identical to the plates on his orange Subaru WRX with chrome 26-inch mags, will be inked onto his lower right bicep, just below the spiky tribal waves design, the armband of flames and barbed wire, the red heart with an arrow through it, and the map of Africa.

Bradson says he hopes the tattoo will allow passers-by a clear glimpse into his deeper personality.

“I might work as a bouncer at a too-expensive club who lets in only blonde rich girls with skirts shorter than my list of tertiary qualifications, but right now I’m just not sure that people can see how of a giant prick I really am,” he said. “I’m hoping that they’ll be able to glance at me across the street, see my new licence plate tat and say ‘god, I'm certain that that guy is an incomparably massive tool’ without my having to actually walk up to them and do something massively arseholeish.”

“Besides,” he added, “this new piece should go lovely with my steroid addiction and deep-seated rage issues stemming from a difficult childhood without a loving or supportive father figure.”

However, medical experts say the addition is not without its risks and side-effects.

“When we consider the kind of empty, soulless human being Blake is, then we realise that this choice of tattoo is totally fitting,” said leading tattoologist and medical expert Dr Richard Haversham. “Getting a tattoo of a Gauteng car registration is much like wearing an Ed Hardy or TapOut T-shirt, or getting spiraling tribal wave designs inked down your calves: having them doesn’t automatically make you an arsehole, but most arseholes do have them.”

Haversham, who has studied behavioural psychology in inked subjects for over a decade, says that such a tattoo could provoke severe psychological side-effects, such as cutting random people off in the line at the supermarket, always being on his phone, or even yelling at people at the streets and calling them all flippen’ stupid blind idiots who must learn how to flippen’ drive.

“Whereas a Bluejay on his ankle would merely make him an artsy prick, or some quotation in Sanskrit or Japanese ciphers down his back would just make him a pretentious hipster douche who places far too much value in his parent-funded two-week ‘soul-searching’ trip to Thailand, this tattoo could have truly heavy ramifications,” said Haversham.

“Honestly, in as little as two weeks we could see things like severe insecurity, festering rage, and him using the flashlight function on his phone to blind people who walk too slowly in front of him.”

Girl realises her life isn’t Indie music video

Pictured: Not Jessica.

It was a bad day and depressing wake-up call today for 22-year-old Jessica Barleson, after the young, dress-wearing fan of Alt-J reportedly realised that her life is not actually an Indie Music Video, and that she is not in any way the carefree, tall, skinny blonde girl depicted in the underground media.

“It’s been an awful day,” she said. “You know, I used to think I was like a real-life Lana Del Rey, drinking and loving the nights and days away in a careless and reckless haze of summer days, gorgeous men, fast cars, memorable nights out, and early mornings on a beach watching sunrises with my Ray-Ban-wearing, cardigan-bedecked friends. But now I realise that it’s nothing of the sort.”

Barleson now says that, despite her best efforts to drive in cars without a seatbelt and with one hand out the window flapping and waving through the sultry autumn breeze, or even to stand up and hold her arms outspread in the warm rays of the sun as the warm late-October wind whips her hair artistically behind her while dark-haired musos croon meaningful lyrics at her and her counterculture companions, she has to face reality.

Also pictured: not Jessica again. 

“I can’t just dance on the beach to no music, or in a public place as if no one is watching,” she said, citing mounting student debt, pressure to get a job after graduating with a degree in Fine Arts, and growing expectations from her final year Master’s thesis supervisor. “I can’t lie in the middle of the road late at night, the soft, flashing lights bathing my soft skin in the ruby, amber and emerald of a carefree life on the fringe, or even sit around a fire sipping authentic Mexican tequila and wearing nothing but a bikini top and denim shorts. Hell, I’m almost 23. I have obligations to meet. Bills to pay. Life isn’t some Music Video. I’m not some imaginary character embodying the lyrics of a song.”

Pictured a third time: people who in no way,
shape or form, represent Jessica.

So what now for the depressed, dejected teen? Well, the answer, she says, is utterly clear to her.

“I just feel so utterly betrayed,” she said, wearing a black top, dark mascara and fishnet stockings, a new, sombre tattoo of a dagger-impaled black heart decorating the side of her bone-white back. “It s like life is meaningless and a total illusion; it’s a lie, designed to heat your desires only to dash your ambitions on the dark, jagged rocks of an uncaring, brusque world filled with misery and decay. I almost feel lost in a universe of darkness and chaos.”

“It’s almost,” she said, writing a depressing poem about the meaningless void that encompasses all existence, “as if I’m one of those girls in a Bullet for my Valentine music video.”

pics: wikimedia commons, Huffington Post, Pintrest