IF ENGLAND’S World Cup campaign does end in defeat and dishonour, blame will no doubt fall once again at the feet of captain David Beckham and his tattoos.
Listening to mild-mannered Beckham speak, even Professor Henry Higgins would be baffled at the resentment the man attracts. But today it is not the opening of mouths that causes offence, but the rolling up of sleeves. And Beckham sports no fewer than ten tattoos, each one a damning indictment of his character in many eyes.
His bizarre crucifix with wings was deemed a blasphemy by people who haven’t seen the inside of a church since their wedding, yet he was following a tradition that dates back to the earliest days of Christianity. Then there was the tattoo of his wife’s name in Hindi, misspelt “Vhictoria”: ho ho, laughed the expert linguists from the sidelines.
Likewise Beckham’s teammate Wayne Rooney attracted many a sneer with his Celtic cross, yet what better way for a second-generation Irishman to celebrate his dual nationality? Most Irishmen would have been happy for him to play for them and wear a rose.
Today we are the most heavily tattooed nation of earth, and the number of parlours has increased from 50 in the 1970s to more than 1,500 today, a growth industry that has few politicians singing its praises. Indeed, last week Rebecca Holdcroft, a temp in Hertfordshire, was told by her employers that she must cover up her 18 tattoos in the office.
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Those who mock Miss Holdcroft’s Japanese flowers should recall that the very name Britain derives from Pretani, a pre-Celtic word for “the people of the tattoos”, and many of our greatest characters sported body art. Twenty-one of the 25 Bounty mutineers boasted at least one; Edward VII carried on his skin a Jerusalem Cross and insisted his two sons be decorated with Japanese art; while Winston Churchill’s mother, Lady Randolph, had a snake drawn on her wrist.
Our enemies have always feared our tattoos, from the Romans to the Saracens. Harold II rode into battle covered in the things, and it was only these markings that allowed patriotic Saxons to identify his body; while the Normans, after Pope Hadrian I’s ban in 787, sneered at their enemies’ designs. It is sad that their descendants still argue about battle decor almost a thousand years on.