Monday 03 October 2011


“Everything is ok.” Not my words, the words of the person doing my filling. I can’t remember what she was – she wasn’t a dentist. Is a oral hygienist allowed to do a filling? Fuck knows. Between my filling and the scratch and polish (or whatever it’s called) she definitely violated my mouth. Don’t misunderstand me: she did her job perfectly; I just don’t like people rummaging in my mouth (unless, perhaps it is Ryan Gosling rummaging in it with his cock). If I may go further, I don’t like people rummaging in my mouth with small drills.

And why do I have to keep my own mouth open? What in the name of all that is just am I paying for when I pay £40 for a filling? Would a small mouth version of a car-jack really be that much to ask for? I can’t help it: when the drill or the hook thing they use feels like it may be about to slide in to my gum, slashing it open my mouth’s instinct is to shit itself. And then I get asked to open my mouth like I am being naughty. No, invent a mouth-jack and open my mouth with it. I don’t want to have to sit with my mouth wide open for 30 minutes while one woman attacks my teeth with a drill and another (seemingly more mindful that I am a paying customer) cleans my mouth with a tiny hoover. I just don’t want to.

And what’s more I didn’t for about 20 years and then when I went last year I was told I needed a filling. Now I go a year later and I need another one. So 20 years for one filling and just one year for another. At this rate next year I will need 18 fillings (I haven’t really done the math there, but I think that ’18 fillings’ guess is symptomatic of a larger issue and if you’re quibbling over the guesswork involved in reaching this figure then you have too much time on your hands. Or aggression towards me. Either way why don’t you channel it in to something more productive? If it’s the former, get yourself a hobby; if it’s the latter why don’t you viciously attack me with a metre of lead piping? This unnecessary, relentless undermining of this blog is, frankly, embarrassing.) and by 2015 I will have an entire mouth of fillings. (I haven’t checked that math either.)

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