Nick van der Leek: "One of the most difficult cases..."

This morning I went to a dentist in Norwood. I was dressed like a 'scaverratch' (as my girlfriend would say), because I had to be up at the crack to drop her off. I sommer went directly to the dentist from there, dressed in tracksuit pants and a gray top which has seen better days. The dentist spent extra time quizzing me about my job (probably to make sure I had one).

Once prostrate (can you be prostrate on your back...or is that backstrate, or lactate?) he began to inform me that I was possibly one of the most difficult cases he had ever come across. He said my lower jaw teeth sank virtually completely behind the upper's jaws teeth, something he had last seen in Bart Simpson when he's worked in a small American dorpie (Springfield I think). Anyway. He says the last time he saw teeth grinded down to the extent mine are was from a chap who works in Sudan clearing landmines. No exaggeration.

Now, I have to admit, I have been stressed by Rotten Editors in particular. I have added two to my lifetime ban list, one for doing a vip, and then flipping around and citing my bad attitude, and the other for making frankly untrue statements whilst otherwise stringing me along nicely.
So based on just those two experiences I have had sky-high stress. Anyone else would do when so much work has been committed to an enterprise that was doomed from the start, and unfortunately thanks to the 'stringing along' process, the stress gets extended over a period of time. To give you an idea of what I am talking about, imagine working all weekend (yes, in your free time, time meant to be relaxing and recharging) and when you're done, just as you're about to say it, the power goes off. When you go back to check and your computer asks if you want the version it saved and you mistakenly hit 'no'. It's that level of frustration, except when there are people involved you think you might be able to plead to their humanity.

The dentist suggested a couple of treatments, one which he said would involve successive courses of surgery and orthodontics, and would cost, he said, in the order of R200 000. I told him that I am now 36 years old. During my high school years, all of them, I had to wear an external brace, a plate, and railway tracks. 18 years later I still have dreams that I'm wearing my external brace, or I've misplaced it.

I told the doctor that I have Dutch blood and British blood, hence the perfect DNA portfolio for a mouthful of teeth arguing for space (and to be heard). Even having extracted all my wisdom teeth, the dentist said there was very little room to move. After all these years being called a big mouth, it turns out I'm not. But the shape of my mouth, I have this on good authority, is great for kissing.