Tokyo Dentist

Today is my last day in Tokyo.  Having toured the city, visited temples and eaten at exclusive sushi restaurants, there is only one more place to visit; the dentist.

My last visit to a dentist had been some months previous in London.  On entering the premises that day my suspicions had immediately been aroused by the casually dressed receptionist, who despite having never met me before had greeted me by my first name, a habit I deplore.  Moments later an Eastern European hygienist was ushering me towards an archaic looking dental chair.  My efforts at small talk proved unsuccessful, which only added to the sense of impending doom.

Her methods could best be described as agricultural; from the crude probing, to the ghastly sound of the scraping of the hooks against my teeth and the incessant bleeding.  As I squirmed uncomfortably, she would utter, ‘this is not pain,’ repeatedly.

‘I’ll be the judge of that…,’ I had replied on the fifth or sixth occurrence, as I sat up spitting blood into the dentist basin, before rising and departing the room haughtily.  From his position behind the desk, the receptionist enquired as to what was wrong, ignoring him I continued through the lobby.  He reminded me about the outstanding bill.

‘Sue me,’ I shouted, an arc of blood spraying across the desk.

Back in the present these thoughts couldn’t be further from my mind as I recline in the top of the range dental chair.  The array of dental accessories so dexterously employed on my teeth as to give a soothing sensation.  On completion I hold a small hand mirror aloft and view with delight the sight of my Hollywood white teeth, before uttering a torrent of Japanese superlatives to signify my approval.  As I leave the premises, clasping Omiron’s latest innovation in dental care in one hand, the entire staff of the dental practice line up before me and bow deeply in unison, before thanking me for my custom in the most honorific of forms.

Minutes later I am sitting on the train attempting with great difficulty to decipher each of my new Omiron Mediclean HT-B470 electric toothbrush’s features.  I read each one aloud, almost silently.

  • ‘230 mm Length.
  • 120cm power cord.’

Looking up I notice two teenage girls sitting opposite me, whispering animatedly to each other.  I grin widely at them, exposing my ivory white teeth.  One emits a shriek as they both rise in unison and flee down the carriage.  I return my attentions to the Omiron HT-B470’s features once more.

  • ‘48g Weight
  • 25,500 Sound Wave Oscillating’

Thank you to everyone who bought my book, Charles Middleworth.  If you would like to read the first two chapters, click on the link below.

CharlesMiddleworth(ch 1-2)

Click here to read a previous blog post about a Boots home brand toothbrush.

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