Some of the things Britain brought the world through invention and discovery:
Now, can anyone tell me why the nation that invented the fucking Harrier jet has third world dental care?
I can make use of all the aforementioned discoveries of the UK (probably not the harrier jet, to be fair but I’ve found gravity to be quite useful) but tomorrow I have a dental appointment, and I am shitting myself.
I haven’t been in 5 years, following an unpleasant appointment whereupon the dentist stabbed me with a needle about 4 times around the same tooth and decided ‘meh, that’s as good as it’s going to get’ and starts drilling.
His injections had all failed, so when he slipped with the drill and went through my gum – I felt it.
Sooooo…. that’s why I haven’t been in 5 years. My teeth are a nightmare, though surprisingly painless.
The tooth he drilled through has, remarkably, broken. The milk tooth he assured me would never break, is breaking. The adult canine which should have replaced it that he insisted wasn’t there, is growing out behind my other teeth.
The tooth I broke by opening a beer bottle using my mouth…. well, ok, that one’s on me.
Being afraid of going to the dentist in this country is a badge of honour. All of us have a horror story and will do anything we possibly can to weasel out of going – not because we don’t worry about our teeth, we genuinely do, but because we know that British dentists will cause us pain, do a terrible job and then charge us for the privilege.
Jeremy Kyle: The Talk Show That Can Make You Feel Better, Whatever Your Problem
The only reason I’m going at all (clearly needing to go wasn’t enough of a motivation, following the last fiasco) is that my mum has made me an appointment with her dentist and has promised to hold my hand and make sure I don’t make a break for it out of the waiting room. That’s right…. I’m only going because my mother is going to take care of me. She and I may have had some pretty significant differences of late, but right now I’m reduced to a shaking 5 year old.
The more amusing side of this story is that her dentist has asked her out for dinner on a number of occasions. I’m really not sure how I feel about allowing the bloke who wants to make sweet, sweet music with my mother, rummage around my mouth.
So, I’m going to be a brave girl tomorrow and go to the dentist because that’s the grown up thing to do. And because my mum has promised to take me out for a milkshake afterwards if I’m good.
Please tell me the wonderful made up stuff you’re going to give me for going…. I’d like a unicorn, please.