So, said my preternaturally cheerful dentist this morning, all ready for Crimble?
What I wanted to say: look, it's bad enough coming here every ten minutes (I am having stuff done to try and reduce the odds of my inner fury grinding my teeth into stumps by the time I hit the menopause) and having to sit in your shiny waiting room with nothing to read but the Daily Telegraph and back issues of Tatler. I *did* have an NHS dentist, but he was successfully sued for 'causing unnecessary pain', and what I need would never be available on the NHS anyway, and I've resigned myself to that, and I do actually think you are a very good dentist, but that does not mean I am part of your world. From Tatler to Crimble, it leaves me cold. Mine probably leaves you cold too, so let's talk about teeth.
What I actually said: mmmf nggh arr.
joella
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