Wednesday, 30 March 2011


I have never had a filling. If I was a bawdy comic from another generation I might have turned that first sentence into a bawdy joke about my never having been penetrated. I am not though so I won't. For a man of thirty I think it's quite an achievement to have got this far without the need for a filling. Still thinking about penetration aren't you. I'll change tack.

I've never had a cavity in one of my teeth. Today I went to the dentist for the first time in nearly three years and thought, surely - now's the time. I drink fizzy drinks most days and I ain't talking about no motherfucking sparkling mineral water bitches! I never floss because I ain't got time for that shiiiit. But no! I still have a near perfect set of teeth. How? Are they superhuman? Am I special? Have I been sent here to save the human race?

I think the answer probably lies in two key areas. Firstly - I'm a thorough brusher. I know you think that you're a thorough brusher but your brushing doesn't come close to mine. I brush with purpose. It's not about the amount of time I spend on it. I would say that my average brushing session lasts less than a minute. But I attack those teeth with firm, aggressive brushing. Picture a right wing mother of three brushing rude graffiti off of the side of her house. 'I will not stand for this in my neighbourhood' she says as she brushes. That is the kind of attitude I bring to a tooth brushing session.

The second reason for my cavity free mouth (hello ladies!) is based on my upbringing. For most of my childhood I wasn't allowed sweets. Every day, at nursery when it came to 'story time' all of the children were given a lollypop. The nursery teachers were under strict instructions to give me a muesli bar or a piece of fruit. Not only was I a curiously camp weakling with a weird name who only really spoke to adults but I was also on a diet. One Halloween my dad took me trick or treating. What with it being a special occasion and all I don't think my dad would have minded me having sweets but because I was known as the 'no sweeties' kid I was given fruit. For years I resented my parents for this enforced outcasting. At the age of ten I had a fight with my mum over my right to buy a Push Pop. Christ, they looked good in the adverts. It was those adverts for Push Pops which push (popped) me over the edge into demanding 'MY RIGHT' to eat sweets.

She gave in and the next couple of years of walks to school I was accompanied by a Mars Bar. It turned out Push Pops weren't that good. I no longer resent my parents for their sugar rationing. It gave my teeth a good infancy for which I am still reaping the benefits. It was just unfortunate that in 1980s Newcastle it was considered freakish for parents to question a child's sugar intake.

If I end up having kids in my current neighbourhood (Stoke Newington) the story will be in reverse. I won't want my kids to miss out like I did and will no doubt be a push (pop) over when it comes to sweeties. They will, however, be surrounded by the lactose intolerant children of the Independent reading liberal elite. They will be considered freaks, just as I was, but instead for being allowed to eat bread or whatever.

I must not worry about my future offspring. The chances are they'll never come. I expect nature has balanced out my extraordinary teeth with disabled sperm. And on that note... a wank!

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