I love Sharpies. They cater to my every body decorating need, demanding neither pain nor consequence, as well as giving me my daily dosage of transdermal ink!

So, on Sunday, when I acquired eighteen at once -- in black, blue, light blue, brown, orange, green, aqua, yellow, red, purple, raspberry, and silver -- I was tickled with delight, and slightly euphoric from the chemically fragrant fumes (despite whatever I might've been warned).

With such an array at my hands, I found myself in a knotty quandry. Where others might've doodled the logo of their favourite band, the name of their current paramour, or the tried-and-true (more tried than true) naked buxom woman, I chose to adorn myself with a respected face of journalism. The BBC logo is a tad dull, so I went the homegrown way and penned the CBC's instead.

Go and do a Sharpie tat of your own; it doesn't even have to be on your own skin. Dozing relatives and pets -- after being forcibly shorn -- make excellent canvases. You know you wanna.