Tattoos: what makes one spiritual and another Katona-esque?

Ladies' tattoos: explain what makes one spiritual and another Katona-esque.

Gerry, by email

I'm glad you brought this up, Gerry, because I've been thinking of a similar philosophical tattoo-based question for some time, namely, what makes one lady's tattoo rebellious and another a Sloaney cliche? But we'll talk about Samantha Cameron in a tick, because, we must first turn to Kerry Katona.

Now, we've discussed the abject stupidity of tattoos before on this page, but perhaps my instinctive prejudice against them made me paint the subject with too broad a brush. Obviously, I wasn't going to discuss it with a fine, skin-piercing needle, was I? But still, I owe it to the God of Journalism to treat this with the professionalism the subject of Katona's tattoos is due.

And so, making like Woodward and Bernstein unpicking the Watergate hoo-hah, I have spent many an hour poring over the complex subject that is Katona's tattoos. Of course, the tattoo history of Ms Katona is far more complex than the criminal activities of Richard Nixon. Did Tricky Dick ever have a disappearing tattoo of Winnie the Pooh with the name "Bryan" underneath on his right buttock? Not as far as we know. And did Nixon ever cover up a tattoo of the name of a second ex-husband with what has been described as "a fiery phoenix" to represent why one should never be tattooed with the name of one's spouse, particularly if he was a former drug dealer – oh, no, I mean, "to represent rising from the ashes and starting a new beginning", as Katona has explained? Again, one cannot be 100% on this, but it does seem unlikely.

Yet it is interesting to research the tattoo-ology of Katona right after a yoga class. While my feelings for Katona have never gone further than the "meh" mark on the emotional dial, few things highlight blatant class snobbery about certain issues as the conjunction of the mockery of Katona's tattoos in the tabloids and the cod-spiritual smugness surrounding tattoos one sees in one's yoga class. Yet where one kind is indicative of one's higher devotion, the other is laughable, when some of the more democratic among us might think that latter description applies to all equally. Similarly, one could argue that if these be-tattooed yogic folk were really so spiritual, they wouldn't feel the need to inform everyone else of this or remind themselves of it, via the medium of the tattoo. Moreover, some innocently untattooed people in the yoga class – who would otherwise be totally ace at balancing – find the light of self-satisfaction that radiates off their classmates' tattoos is so blinding they topple over. Were it not for the tattoos, honestly, they'd be able to stand on one foot for hours and truly focus and not think once about how they forgot to set the Sky+ for The Daily Show a-bloody-gain.

I ask you, Gerry, is a lotus flower tattooed on a woman's lower back any different to, say, a fiery phoenix? The answer is, "Yes, when it is sported by someone standing on a Stella McCartney for Adidas yoga mat."

And while we're here, in the land of the Tattoo Rant, can we please establish a moratorium on anyone citing Samantha Cameron's freaking dolphin tattoo on her ankle as proof that she somehow adds cred to David? If you can show me a single modern-day Sloane without a dolphin or a star tattoo somewhere on her person, I'll show you a classy tatt in a yoga class.

Are a Mohawk hairstyle and a pair of spectacles incompatible?

Samuel, London

Ah, now there are several issues here, Samuel, and I think you are most concerned about overlapping images and the confusion they might call. Can a punk be a speccy nerd? You seem to worry not, but this column is an open church and I say, why not? More problematic, though, would be the Head Jam. Contrary to how it sounds, this is not a dance collection from the 90s (or it might be, but it would probably be called Hed Jam and be illustrated by what appears to be a cartoon of a Bratz doll posing in front of a palm tree and, anyway, that's not what we're talking about today so let's stop this nonsense). A Head Jam is when too much is going on on one's head such as iPod headsets and sunglasses when the sunglasses are then pushed atop the head in a moment of shadiness (and Sloaniness). This becomes a full-on pile-up if the wearer is also sporting, say, earmuffs, an alice band and maybe even a fascinator. The Blackwall Tunnel has nothing on this traffic disaster.