Just this very morning, we were wondering what on earth has happened to Cheryl Cole lately. She was a regular feature of FHM.com. Part of our staple diet. Like bananas. Or Weetabix. Sometimes even banana on Weetabix. We thought we could always rely on the lovely Geordie chocolate eyes hamster cheeks to be doing something lovely and looking rather lovely while doing it. But then, without warning, she disappeared.

We heard nothing from her for weeks. We were worried. We left voicemails. We sent texts. We even started designing “Have you seen this Cheryl Cole?” posters, but had to admit Photoshop defeat when the drawing we'd done of her ended up looking more like Pepe Le Pew’s girlfriend Penelope Pussycat.


"These camouflage shoes are whack"

Now, thankfully, she’s back.

Where's she been? What's she been doing?

Getting some new 'ink', apparently.

Cheryl's body is no stranger to a tattoo. She's got that little one on her hand, that barbed wire garter round her right thigh, something a bit fruity near her left buttock and 'Mrs C' on her neck. And now she's got this on her back:


Should probably see someone about that hand growing from your side, Chezza

We're not going to cast any aspersions about tattoos. We're not the Daily Fascist or the Altruism Inquirer. Tattoos are just one of those things. Some people like 'em, some people don't. Like bananas. Or Weetabix. If someone chooses to buy Fruit 'n' Fibre and then pick out all the fruit, that's their choice. And who are any of us to judge? No one, that's who. Free will is fundamental to a functioning society. Long live metaphysical libertarianism.


OB from Hollyoaks, Lee Westwood and young Richard Ashcroft were all gagging to meet Cheryl