Get Off Me, You Bastard

Yes, I know that writing about the dentist is incredibly boring, but a 45 minute treatment has left me traumatised so the least you fuckers can do is stop rolling your eyes and show little a bit of sympathy, OK?

It's due to a broken crown that I found myself yesterday, laid out at a curious angle, with so much nasty needle stuff piped into my gums that my right cheek, nostril and even my EYELID were frozen. Then a man in white set to drilling, poking, scrapping and, worse of all, putting horrible putty casts in my mouth to take impressions of my jaw.

For someone who hates being touched by strangers at the best of times, such wanton invasion of my personal space has left a psychological scar. Last night my dreams were tortured by scenes of intruders trying to break into my home and I was paralysed and unable to stop them. More curiously, I dreamed the Retro bar was taken over by crowds of rude French women who had terrible manners but nobody would ask them to leave. Quite frankly, it's all been a little too much.

To add insult, I've been presented with a bill for nearly 200 quid and told to go back in 2 weeks for more. STOP!!!

I've done those quizzes in the past where they tell you the job you're most suited to. Due to my slightly autistic nature, they more often that not tell me "dentist". I can't think of anything worse than spending my days peering down people's gobs and am way too squeamish for the blood and spit. What on earth are these people thinking?

Dentistry is clearly the devil's work. And even I'm not mean enough to do it.