The Gospel According To Rhys - Colwyn Bay North Wales Web blog About Sport, Wrestling, PHP, SEO, Social Media & Networking

My name is Rhys, and I’m rubbish at oral.

We arrived 20 minutes early for my much dreaded dentist. I had a fear that I was going to pay for the checkup (what’s worse than a dentist? Having to pay for it), but I didn’t because I was under 25, makes it slightly better the fact that my mouth would have unwanted appliances in it. Also what made it better was a copy of Edge magazine, with a nice article on one of my favourite games as a kid – Jimmy White’s Whirlwind Snooker. I was almost about to embrace the field of dentistry when the nurse called mum “Stella Wynne”, her real first name (she goes by Jane), which brought me to fits of laughter. To occupy us, we were given forms to fill in between patients. One question, thanks to years of good health, promoted some queries for Stella.

“What’s our GP’s name?”

“Dr. H Williams”

“Is it now. What happened to Dr. H Sissons?”

“It’s the same person, she got married.”

“……..Dr H Sissons was a woman?”

I was second up, and I told him about my 6 months dental history – it was on the tip of my tongue. I told him a few toothaches here and there, but otherwise fine. Built myself, only for him to knock me down. My mouth was like that of a pornstar’s. Well and truly fucked.

A number of fillings, an abcess, and root canal work. I do believe that’s a Wynne Family Record.

I was shocked. I mean, I’m not in any pain. He said it’s not really too much of a big deal, but it could be. Hence he wants to put it right. Which I suppose what he’s there to do. So I’m going back there twice in October, having needles and all sorts put into me, and paying £39 for the priveledge. God bless the NHS.

I came to work a little dejected, but otherwise fine. At lunchtime, I went on an “oral binge”, and bought all sorts of mouthwashes, flosses and a new toothbrush. I bought a “fancy toothbrush” – one of the three things I wouldn’t buy for fear of turning into a metrosexual (the other being an electric razor* and bottled water).

Isn’t it unnescessarily complicated? All sorts of bristles, whistles and thingamabobs. It’s like using a blast furnace to cook some toast. One thing really made my blood boil….

A tongue cleaner! Soon I’ll be ringing up Richard Hammond for teeth whitening tips. It’s not good.

Tomorrow the mighty seagulls play Ossett Albion (not Town) in the FA cup, and I’ll be drinking Real Ale. I will not be metrosexual!

Oh, and if Sarah from the comments is reading this, the website for the Fun Centre mentioned a couple of posts ago is thefuncentre.co.uk.

* Guy with his bumfluff asked me to teach him to shave with a proper razor, after using nothing but electric. The sheltered child he was!

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