Now Pither has, for the last few years at least, been what can best be termed a "bottom dweller". My dive into the sediment, however, hit new depths this afternoon when I visited the dentist's.
My teeth, I am proud to say, are strong and I have never, in fact, had a filling in my 46 years on this and a couple of other planets - and I do visit the dentist regularly. The problem I have is with my gums - yes, it's that old Tommy Cooper gag: "My teeth are fine, it's just my gums have got to come out!"
Well, a week ago my gums started to feel a bit sore and by last night they were red raw and bled if touched (Uuurgh! I know). So, I made an emergency appointment to see my dentist, called in this afternoon and he had a quick firk around to try to find out the cause of my discomfort. I was expecting him to say something like "Ooh look! This little peggy's a bit loose" or "Mr ulcer has set up shop in Toothy Town". No such luck. I should have known it was bad news when he shot backward, stared at me in a "how the Hell are you still alive?" kind of way and then stammered somewhat disbelievingly......"You..you've....you've got Trench Mouth!"
TRENCH MOUTH!!!! Flipping TRENCH MOUTH!!!! I'm only 46!! I've never been to Flanders, let alone shot a German, let alone 70 years ago! How the Hell have I ended up with that?
It turns out that, unlike its fungal brother Trench Foot, Trench Mouth is a bacterial infection brought on by stress, lack of a satisfactory diet and sharing crockery and cutlery with people in the same unhealthy boat. As its name implies, it first gained notoriety during the First World War when cowering in a shit-filled trench with hundreds of others packed alongside and Bally Gerry shelling every minute provided all the basic ingredients for this particularly nasty form of gum rot!
Worse was to come when the dentist said: "We don't normally prescribe antibiotics for gum conditions but they are the only possible cure for Trench Mouth. I hope you don't drink alcohol because you have to take these," upon which he produced a flame red box of tablets from a dusty, top cupboard. "They contain similar chemicals to the ones they sewed into George Best's stomach lining to make him sick if he touched a drop of booze," he added, reassuringly.
Happy days. Not only have I managed to contract a disease thought to have been eradicated 70 years ago, I can't drink for a week!
Trench Mouth can most definitely go to Grantham.
P.S. While waiting for this startling diagnosis, it occurred to me what an awful place a dentist's waiting room is for an adult, childless male. I mean, look at the things designed to take your mind off the agonies to come which were laid out in my dentist's waiting room.
...And when you've finished playing with all that, HE just has to remind you how healthy HE is and so what a grovelling piece of pestulence-ridden filth YOU are.
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5 comments:
Welcome to the world of teetotal vegetarianism. You were wrong to struggle against it, weren't you?
Trench Mouth???
Hmm....well, perahps your gums are 70 years older than the rest of you?
I found you via Vicus. You should go immediately over to his house and give him a HUGE kiss. I know he'd appreciate it.
George Best lasted over a week.
You can do it, Reg!
Vicus,
He said I had to be teetotal. He didn't say anything about taking bites out of cows in fields?
I'd lock your doors, close your curtains and stay inside on Sunday - that's when the booze ban is up and I might just have a celebratory tincture.
Hi Pamela,
Welcome to the personal griefhole which is this blog.
Giving Vicus a Judas kiss has a certain appeal, I grant you. However, swapping my Trench Mouth for his "gingery, Leicester, veggie disease" is a deal I am not prepared to strike.
Geoff,
I know, I know, I know - but Georgie Boy had much stronger willpower and infinitely more moral character and sense of self-worth than I do.
I note that Pamela managed to Schlepp her way over here to read one of the rudest blogs, despite her genteel pretensions, but complains when I ask her to visit someone else.
Reg "lack of a satisfactory diet". There is a clue there, young man, and I am only pointing this out for your own good. There is nothing to be afraid of. I was born in Leicester and became ginger before I became vegetarian. The sheep molesting came later though.
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