Here's my story...believe it or not. 

I deliberated long and hard but in the end decided there was only one way to honour the world's best detective. I approached a local tattooist to emblazon the immortal words: You're nicked! on my left buttock. I decided against the 'slaaag' bit...besides we were running out of room and this has nothing to do with the size of my posterior. The tatt is very colourful and I think rather tasteful but I'm afraid there will be no photographic evidence of the work of art. Only one person is privy to my nether regions and that's my long suffering husband, who at present is in a state of utter bewilderment. 

So I suppose many of you will say 'Moz is making it up!' or 'the woman's demented!' Well both could be true. On the other hand as you lie in bed at night and ponder the meaning of life and whether low fat milk is really better for you...perhaps you may also toy with the possibility that a middle-aged woman in Canberra who resembles Olive Oyl on a good day has a spectacular signature on her left buttock:

You're Nicked!

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