I'm having my first filling on Thursday. All together now: garrgh..gargle..choke...gaaaargh....can you tell I'm a wee bit concerned? I hadn't been to the dentist in at least ten years. It was a bit like entering a confession box.
'Bless me father for I have sinned. It's been about seven million light years since my last visit. I don't think the telephone had been invented.'
Ever since a doctor tried to look at my tonsils by using a teaspoon to hold my tongue down, and I threw up all over him, people fiddling round with my mouth gets me all sweaty and hysterical. A bit like this:
To be honest, I find a smear test a more comfortable experience (sorry to be mentioning gynaelogical procedures at this delicate hour).
Why oh why did I go back? Have been coping fine with whatever is going on back there in the molar regions until now. I'm sure it'll all sort itself out, given time and enough paracetomol. Anyway, I think I look quite good as a toothless hag:
I was just pulling a face you understand. The other two have always looked like that. Barry Gibb isn't their dad.