Real life | 1 February 2018

‘Please, could you just clean my teeth?’ I want to say, only I don’t. I go along with it, praying it will be over quicker if I cooperate.

‘And how are you today?’ she says in a frighteningly polite voice, a flash of steel glinting in her eyes as she looks down on me in her impossibly white outfit.

‘Well, I’m at the dentist so…’ I give a little nervous laugh, inviting her to show me she is human. She refuses. Her expression flickers for a second, then she hardens the courtesy in her tone.

The angel of hygiene is now being ultra-polite, a tone that meets menace coming round the other way: ‘Is there something wrong? Is there anything I can do?’

I can see that we are into ‘Do you need to take a moment?’ territory. This can only draw out the misery.

‘I’m fine. I just need to…’ Get it over with! Get your screaming electric scraper going and discover how bad my gums are and then give me the goddam lecture about flossing!