If I were to win a teeth whitening session I’d use the opportunity to just go spend an hour near a dentist asking them questions about their personal and professional decisions and their thoughts on death and dreams and where that all fits in with dentistry and teeth whitening.
People who work with teeth always seem so interesting, with a real knack for philosophising and helping me see life in some sort of wider context. They make everything seem that much more bearable.
Sure, whiter teeth would be great (as would a diet richer in coffee, red wine, chocolate and highly processed sugary foods), but it’s the philosophical underpinnings and useful unpredictable tangents of those within dentistry which really appeals to me, and it’s for that reason that I’d like to book an appointment with you.
See you at 2:30.
Hello. I’ve been wanting to tell you something. I’m not sure how appropriate it is, and in fact it’s a little embarrassing, but here we go…
Well, I just think you’d look better with a parrot on your shoulder. Nothing says alternative like a resting tropical bird, well, apart from a panting shrew. Though actually I suppose a resting tropical bird is just that little more nonchalant.
As I’ve said before, I once fed the ducks in my jeans, and I think that’s why they feel so tight. I think we’d all be better off if the ducks loosened up a bit. But no, to this day they remain steely eyed, lobbing accusing stares across dirty stagnant ponds. Though that being said, it’s the swans that look really pissed off when you’re chucking stale bread near them and trying to pass it off as an action with any meaning or logical reason behind it.
Goats and levers, where do they lead?
They lead down the river and over the bridge to a fountain of youth and a stream which never ceases to run.
A dried up prune is left on a gravel path.
He has been here.
Plate to fork to mouth is the established mollusc eating process and never could I stand by a government that wishes to impose its dogmatic trajectory of plate to teaspoon to mouth.
Let those within power understand that mollusc eating, and the methods by which each citizen chooses to eat them, is a personal choice and a fundamental liberty.
I’d sooner die than be forced to chase greasy molluscs round a plate with a teaspoon, all the while knowing there’s a better way.
There’s freedom in the fork.
The weatherman really did give a sensational performance this evening. I was engrossed right from the start, didn’t know where it was going and couldn’t stop watching. A thrilling ride.
I’m completely through with living for the weekend.
From now on I am living for the carrot peel, the banana skin and any other discarded flesh or rind.
Really excited! Roll on The Floor!
From today onwards I pledge allegiance to my side-parting. We’ve actually started an organisation, too; it’s called “global side-parters of the world united”. Membership is £3 a year. Centre-parters not welcome. Comb overs will be judged on a case-by-case basis.
What I don’t understand is how someone can come to this country, have a great time and be relatively ‘successful’, driving anything from a Vauxhall Astra all the way up to an Aston Martin or a Jaguar or a Fourth-generation Jet Fighter Plane, whilst I’m here, sat at a desk, typing pointless information into a pointless system for pointless people to make pointless money only to walk home yearning for an Astra that I can’t afford and sitting down in my shit-tip house of misery, failure and blame wondering who’s gonna be on The Graham Norton Show later.
Living life dangerously appeals to some, but eating undercooked beans just does not seem like a thrill. Living life intelligently should appeal to all, and that includes eating properly cooked beans.