Have you ever sat open-mouthed, as an expensive English grinding-down-dentist starts to drill? Malcolm has. (Speeding on his bike at ten years old, he’d fallen off, broken his front teeth.) To put him to sleep, a BLACK rubber cup was placed over his nose. Breathing in the gas, ‘a thick dozy feeling swamped over him.’ And ‘Help, Help,’ he cried. But no sound came as ‘he felt himself sliding down a giant’s throat.’
This is why he has not been to an English dentist for over twenty-two years. But now his future is ‘Sweet Lucy, with her baby blonde hair, her delicious perky breasts’. Yet all is not well. Lucy keeps telling him not to smile - that his ragged teeth are a deal breaker. What can he do but try an inexpensive all-in-dentist trip to Hungary?
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