Ross Jones

47, TRAIN DRIVER/ DJ, FROM WALES

Sometimes I look at my tattoos and think, “What am I doing?” But then I go, “Fuck it, I look amazing, carry on.”

The one that provides food for thought is the giant hot dog on my belly. I had that done in New York, fuck knows why.

My partner and I actually ended up falling out with the friends we were visiting at the time because they thought it was so awful. How dare they insult my hot dog…

By the way I’m a vegetarian, so it’s a

Quorn hot dog!

I also have “faster” and “harder” written above my nipples. They were my boyfriend’s idea and he said to me before the photoshoot, “Attitude is going to ask about them.” They’re just a bit of fun.

The tattoo with the most meaning is of a gravestone with the name “Butch” above it on my forearm. It’s not a reference to me by the way. I had post- traumatic stress disorder because of my work as a train driver, after some suicides and fatalities. I’ve never run anybody over but I have been past after the incident and seen a lot.

Afterwards, I kept dreaming about the dog I had when I was a kid, Butch. Every night.

My therapist told me that it was my brain repairing itself. So, I thought, “Hang on, I’m going to have a little homage to that dog,” and have never dreamt about him since. It sounds like bollocks, but it’s true.

Next, I’m going for the neck and hands. The railway company I work for now allow us to show our tattoos in public, so I’m thinking: “Right, let’s do this!”