A day I'd like to forget. Quickly.

Friday began with a throbbing upper jaw. On the advice of a friend, I went to this dentist in GKII. On the surface, this bloke looked benign, compared to some of the more menacing specimens I’ve seen before. His den didn’t look like a battlefield either – some of the other fang-wrenchers I’ve been to like to display their weaponry and flex their muscles at first glance.

I sank into the chair with a peculiarly mixed feeling of apprehension and relief.

And then I saw him in true light. A flick of the wrist brought out a sliding kind of woodwork. It was loaded with the familiar weaponry I dreaded – if anything the weapons looked more advanced, since I haven’t been to a molar mangler in years. The guy (who was by now looking decidedly sinister) peered into my mouth and evidently didn’t like what he saw. He leapt forward to pick up a particularly mean looking sharp instrument – it looked even more grotesque as he held up to the light before he plunged it into that upper molar that he so evidently disliked. After a few moments that felt anything but few, he indicated to a wash basin and a glass of water. They evidently don’t like to test their vocal chords when on the attack. I gargled and freaked out when I saw the basin turn red. By this time the cove was armed with another dreadful looking pair of forceps in addition to the original weapon. I guess all fang wrenchers are descendants of some fighting race of the past – this bird proceeded to grind his way around and finally yanked out the cap I had. To give you the background, this is a molar with a history - it was reduced to its root and then superimposed with a cap in 1999.

The guy then pressed a buzzer of sorts and another shorter specimen arrived during which time I was gargling again (even more red). This second bloke didn’t exactly roll up his sleeves and pounce on the armory, he instead put in some soft putty to get the size of the cap they need to replace – the main dentists like to do the more attacking stuff, I gathered. That done, he left (the second guy, I mean).

I felt particularly weak in these deep chairs dentists keep for their victims....you sink in and you sink in really deep, and then even the shortest of dentists looks massive and destructive, especially when there’s a light behind them. In this case there was a light, and the guy was naturally tall and well built – evidently a direct descendant of the Huns or the Mongols, depending on whichever was the more ferocious warring tribe of yore. He then proceeded to tell me to again visit him on Monday to insert a new cap.

I gathered the ordeal was at an end and tottered out of the seat and asked him if the Monday visit would prove as painful as today’s. He promises no bloodshed on Monday, insisting that all that’s to be done is to put the cap in with whatever glue they use. I drove back home wondering whether I needed this cosmetic appendage at all (of a cap). But I realize I have to....can’t leave the root of the molar uncovered.

I hope he keeps up his word for Monday.