Call me old-fashioned

……..but I’m a big fan of teeth.  Now I know that may sound a little weird, and maybe they’re not a massive priority (apparently, it would seem, not to all), but in a strange way, I kinda like them.  They’re nice things, you know.  I most especially like teeth when they are clean teeth.  ‘Visible from 50 paces’ filthy, dirty, plaquey teeth…… NOT so much.

Aaahh, teeth.  Teeth, teeth, teeth.  These things are nice to have, right?  They help to keep your face in vaguely the right shape and not collapsed all over the place, and don’t forget, they’re really quite useful too!!  For biting and chewing stuff, enabling you to eat and therefore stay alive. (My feral children would have good, strong healthy teeth from gnawing on the dog). See ‘Reasons why I don’t have kids #5.   Also they can be good for a bit of sexual nibblage too, but this is by the by, and not essential for survival.

So – and this is important information – if you spit your tobaccoey phlegm on the floor through the gaping hole in your face, try to smile at me with the two, brown shards that are left in your head and utter something vaguely rude/sexual/inappropriate (I couldn’t quite make it out BECAUSE TEETH HELP YOU SPEAK PROPERLY TOO!!), it’s VERY unlikely I will respond.  Or even acknowledge your existence.

Yours sincerely
Indignant of Barcelona


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