Another One Bites The Dust

I lost my crown this week.

In case you think I have delusions of royal grandeur, I’m referring to my fake front tooth which fell out with a splash as I ploughed my way through the biggest bowl of soup since Desperate Dan came off a diet.

I had gone off on holiday weeks ago knowing that my tooth was slack but I had eaten cautiously just in case I was stranded, toothless, thousands of miles from home. Now at home I wanted it to come out so that I could get it properly fixed, and I have been gnawing on apples and corn on the cob since my flight back. I would even have moved up to chomping broken glass and concrete had they not had calories.

But nothing seemed to work at all until, down at the gym canteen, I slurped an innocuous bowl of mushroom soup that shouldn’t have troubled a pensioner wearing someone else’s dentures. I’ve always been a bit of a soup dragon and my mum reckons it’s because I haven’t grown up yet, so I guess it serves me right. The tooth came out while I was speaking with my mouth full and it soiled the lady sitting next to me as it splashed in to the plate with a huge “kerplunk”.

After apologising, I fished the thing out of my bowl, excused myself from the table sounding like Sylvester the cartoon cat, and headed to the gents toilets to find a mirror and put it back. Trust me, no matter how ugly you may think you are, seeing yourself with a front tooth missing does nothing for your self esteem. If I thought I might look like a cute kid, or Dennis The Menace, or a macho cage fighter, I was soon to be disappointed. Staring back from the mirror was what looked like a seedy toothpaste dodger who had been sleeping rough for years. I apologise to any seedy toothpaste dodgers who have been sleeping rough and may be reading this.

Looking at your teeth outside of your mouth, incidentally, is a big surprise as you are immediately struck by the fact that they are as far from white as Dracula’s wardrobe. If you don’t believe me then take a pair of pliers and pull one of your gnashers out. I highly recommend it.

So, anxious to get rid of this off colour gemstone, and with vanity screaming at me to lose the horrible image in the mirror as soon as possible, I hurried and washed excess mushroom off the crown by running it under a tap. You can see what’s coming can’t you? It slipped from my fingers and spun round the sink like one of those charity pennies put in a Perspex collecting bowl. I chased it round and round but couldn’t catch it and the thing disappeared down the plug hole and in to oblivion.

That’s four hundred pounds Sterling worth of oblivion to you and me. Ever met a poor dentist?

I was frantic. I’d lost a good tooth, good money, and my less than good looks in one accidental slip up and, after a moment’s panic, I ran to find the maintenance man to ask him to unscrew the U bend under the sink. Five minutes later I was reunited with the crown, covered in slime, soap, hair and goodness knows what else.

So, here’s the question. Would you then wash the germs off and put the tooth back in your mouth to save your vanity, or would you place it carefully in your pocket and walk around looking like a pirate till a dental appointment could be made? With me I have to confess I agonised for minutes, watching the race in my head between those two thoroughbreds Vanity and Sanitary, and I’d like to say it was a close run thing, but it wasn’t. Vanity won by a few laps.

So now I’ve been to the dentist, a new crown has been ordered, and things will soon be back to normal. I briefly enjoyed the feeling of being toothless, a sensation I hadn’t felt since childhood. But I remember way back then the obvious excitement of feeling almost heroic and manly as it seemed a big part of growing up.

This time I just felt vain, so maybe my mum’s right and I still haven’t grown up after all.