I found out the other day, that my six year old lad had been getting a bit of jip off a classmate. Nothing spectacular, or anything that could be construed as bullying. It seems that every time my boy picked up a toy, this other lad coincidentally wanted to play with it at that moment. After a bit of a tug of war each time, my lad backed down and the kid walked away with the toy. My wife explained this to me upon my return from work on Monday. She was concerned and thought that having a word with his teacher may nip the errant behaviour in the bud. I listened carefully, paying close attention to her suggested solution and after thoughtful cogitation, I went upstairs to speak to my heir. âHiya, dad,â he said. âHello, son. Get your coat on. Weâre going somewhere special.â With that, I whisked him off to the local tattoo parlour, to have his âbullying removal kitâ installed. Six hours later and after a lot of tears, we emerged into a world ripe for conquering. I stood behind him as he admired his new ink in the mirror, and said, âYou, son, are now unfcukingbullyable.â He looked the business. The inkman did a great job on him and plastered him with every tattoo-clichÃ© in the book, including Hinges on the inner elbows Cobwebs on the outer elbows Swallows (left and right rear palm) Borstal teardrop on left cheek Made in Manchester rubber stamp just above rear neckline. Fruit Shoot above left nip â Kia Ora above right nip. As a tip of the hat in his old manâs direction he went for the squaddie classic of âThe sweetest girl I ever kissed was another manâs wife â MUMâ on a heart background on his right upper arm, God bless âim. As youâll know from previous threads, my wife can be both highly-strung and unreasonable, so her reaction was not a complete surprise. âWhy have you had a 6 year old boy tattooed beyond disfigurement?â âBecause tattoos are the biz. Tell me he doesnât look harder than he did this morning.â âThat may be the case, but please explain to me, O great one, that if theyâre such a good fcuking idea, why havenât you got any?â âBecause I didnât have a dad who loved me enough to risk exposing me to Hepatitis.â After persuading her not to call the police, we slept on it, and I took the lad to school the next morning with his new capped sleeve t-shirt on. When he got home, I asked him how his day had been. âWell dad, I did like you said. When Jimmy OâNeill tried to take my toy off me, I pointed to the borstal teardrop and said âYou donât wanna fcukinâ know how I got this.ââ âNice one, Son. Did he tell the teacher.â âNo, Dad, and he didnât come near me for the rest of the day. Come to think of it, Dad, nobody else did either. My mates and my teacher appear to be giving me an unusually wide berth.â âThatâs my boy. You wear that social exclusion with pride. Well get some of those big fcuking polo things stuck in your ears next week.â Have any other ARRSE members responded to a minor domestic crisis in an entirely disproportionate manner?