A friend (trans: someone I met on the internet) recently confided in me his abject terror at visiting the dentist, blaming this on an unfortunate and painful incident involving painful root canal work. Dentists, he complained are routinely hairy South African rugger-buggers* who enjoy nothing more than inflicting pain and their hairy arms on sensitive home counties folk by way of belated revenge for the Boer War. And because they can.
If you're really lucky, your dentist may try a brand new treatment of his own devising, involving a tent peg and a length of piano wire. Fifty quid a shot.
So, for the particularly squeamish of you out there, I can recommend a very nice almost entirely hair-free dentist in Reading who has the habit of pressing her enormous cleavage into the side of your head whilst she does her worst with your mush. I must be the only person in the whole world with fond memories of having holes drilled in your teeth and pus sucked out through the cavities in a weekly basis.
On the down side, she did lean over slightly too far on one occasion, and it was several minutes before I was able to breathe again. A small inconvenience, I'm sure you'll agree. And if you'rewondering - Nation Health, too.
* However, I am certain that the lovely young ladies who read these pages would love to be directed towards a hairy South African rugger-bugger. More fool you.
This week, my hit counter will rack up its 500,000th visitor. Will it be you? Free beer, money and sex (for me) if you win. For you, a warm glow inside.