With their being no National Service anymore I have no experience of the military. While I could have enlisted voluntarily I preferred to be a civilian. This doesn’t mean I can’t daydream. And the best place to do this is in the dentist’s chair.
I haven’t been to the dentist for over a year, missing out on two regular six month check-ups. It’s not fear of Dr. Christian Szell that kept me away it was his frontline troops I couldn’t handle; the Checkpoint Charlie receptionists are a dour-faced lot. They may be young and pretty but by gum they don’t know how to smile and are as welcoming as (insert your own dental simile here)…
The two glum sentinels forced me to change my practice.
You changed your dentist because of the receptionists I hear you say.
Yes, I was that soldier. Handily, a new surgery opened up nearby and was looking for new recruits.
I signed up.
On entering the barracks I was cordially greeted by a beautiful, bubbly, smiling, professional receptionist. I was welcomed with open arms. Then I met the General. He said it was time for my examination.
The check up revealed that no work needed to be done and I was livid though I kept my feelings to myself. I was wanting a good, long bout of treatment. You see the dentist chair is the best place to daydream. While he’s probing and drilling and pulling and filling and sucking in your mouth you can pretend to be somewhere else.
I like to imagine I’ve been captured by the enemy and they’re trying to extract vital information from me using enhanced interrogation techniques. With great willpower I say nothing and fight through the pain as the dentist of death carves me up. This is a piece of cake and I can’t wait for the waterboarding to start. Sometimes though, as I’m too enmeshed in my hallucination, I shout out my name and number-
This gives the dentist a fright and I apologise with a meek, sloppy “Sortthhy”.