I went to my dental hygienist today.
She asked how I had been getting on and I told her I was using an electric toothbrush and she said… “They’re really good as it leaves your other hand free to do other things!”
Now, two things.about that…
(1) I have absolutely no idea what “other things” she meant or what she gets up to in her own bathroom and I was too embarrassed to ask.
And (2) I’ve always found that I’ve only ever had to use ONE hand to use a manual toothbrush, they’ve never been that heavy that I’ve had to use two.
At this point I was gonna check her certificates on her wall…
Maybe realising she had said something she shouldn’t, she hastily changed the subject and asked if I had been anywhere nice on holiday? The alternative being that I had purposely spent shed loads of money on going to a place I didn’t like.
I haven’t been on holiday for years, partly because I’m single and partly to avoid dull conversations with barbers and dental hygienists.
I told her I hadn’t but felt obliged to return her question.
“Been anywhere nice?”
I had a whole series of stock replies from “I bet the views are stunning”, “I bet the food taste lovely”, to “I’ve heard lots of good thing about it” and “I’d love to go.”
“Madagascar”, she said.
I had nothing.
I had no idea where it was, let alone what the views were like or what the cuisine was like. What was I supposed to do, ask if she’d seen Alex and Marty?
Even without the mouth mirror and sickle probe occupying my mouth, I was rendered speechless.
But my ordeal didn’t end there…
Apart from gashing my lip with her tooth polisher – it’s like a circular saw – when she finished she said: “Well done for not choking on the pressure washer down your mouth.”
“Not choking?” She poured so much water down my throat, I was lucky I didn’t drown.
Instead of a “well done” I was expecting a bravery award from Carol Vorderman.
And I was dying for a wee.
And to think she charges me £30 a time for this amateurism.