THERE are lots of things I don’t like, I’m afraid. A random selection of items which induce negativity in me might include overly humid summer weather, people who think the Twenty’s Plenty campaign means they should drive at 20MPH below the legal speed limit, female singers who drone on about how much stronger they are after ditching some bloke they should have avoided in the first place – and tattoos.

Now, being no oil painting or style guru myself, I wouldn’t normally go down the path of criticising other people’s personal “image choices”, and with that in mind I’m going to try not to express myself in ways which are too much like personal insults.

But I honestly can’t understand how anyone, unless tattoos form part of their culture, can think these things actually look good. Since by chance fellow columnist Sue Nelson yesterday waxed wrathful about graffiti “artists” ruining our railways (which I read after deciding on my own subject matter), here’s my take on the bodily equivalent. So, for a start, what’s my problem with tattoos? I think part of it is they appear to be basically a product of narcissism, but with, in my view, the added irony that they end up actually defacing the “canvas” they are reproduced on – and the better-looking the human canvas, the worse that desecration is.

And another thing. I suspect someone trying to promote tattoos as a great idea, particularly to young people, might stress the racy side of them, how having one stencilled on your skin is a way of showing your wild side and your disregard for convention.

So you could bracket them alongside other elements of the “rock’n’roll lifestyle”, such as boozing, smoking, staying up late and generally carousing. Add to that the exhibitionist side of things, and I guess you could compare them with flinging on bling, wearing ridiculously flash clothes or “pimping up” your car.

Well, lots of us, including me, have done a few of those things in our time (though not the bling; I deny that). But here’s the difference. With most of those behaviour choices you also have the choice to stop doing them, albeit not always easily, and hopefully without too much permanent harm.

With tattoos the damage is permanent. You’re left with a scar, quite literally. The decision you made when you were young/drunk/out with your mates or on holiday stays with you.

This probably doesn’t seem much of a problem at the time, but what happens if circumstances change, as older women’s crumpet Johnny Depp discovered when the break-up of his relationship with actress Winona Ryder made his “Winona forever” inscription seem just a teeny bit inappropriate?

What happens if you are not quite so enamoured with the same football team, give up martial arts or alter your musical tastes? If you’ve had your preferences etched on your flesh, the chances are you’re stuck with them, and left in a sort of personal trend time warp.

Oh, and don’t talk to me about subtle or tasteful tattoos – there’s no such thing as far as I’m concerned. Those little decorations on the ankle or behind the ear are just a sign of weak-mindedness, from someone who couldn’t resist the novelty or the peer pressure but who didn’t quite have the courage of their convictions.

At least the likes of Amy Winehouse, that well-known advert for the rock’n’roll lifestyle, don’t pussyfoot about when it comes to bodily decoration.

Now, if you’re thinking my outburst stems from a particularly uptight upbringing, you may wish to consider the fact that my younger brother is the proud owner of a whole bunch of oriental-type patterns adorning his neck, shoulders and upper arms.

Naturally I avoid being seen with him in public, and I occasionally tell him exactly what I think of them – at which point he laughs out loud and tells me I should get some too. Then I shudder inwardly, and shut up.