The whole tooth

Well, Ploggers, I have to say your voting skills were generally poor. Mr and Mrs Nunn were confused and wanted to vote for previous Plogs. The rest of you didn't care. How do you think that makes me feel? Hmm? Hmm? I'll tell you: totally ambivalent.

Anyway, by a margin of 2:1, the Hackney dentist story came top. So here we go.

In March 2003 I became aware I hadn't been to the dentist for a little while, so registered with a Dr Kibble (yes, that was his real name - apparently) near where I lived in Dalston. My appointment was before work. And into the surgery I trotted.

Because my appointment was first thing in the morning, I didn't have to wait, and went straight through with Dr Kibble, who confirmed my fears that I'd need a couple of fillings. We consulted our diaries for when I could come back. Perhaps alarm bells should have started to ring when he informed me he'd be free that evening at 5.30. Usually for NHS treatment, there's a waiting list of a good few weeks. However, delighted that I could get an appointment so soon, I thought no more about it.

Back I trotted again to Dr Kibble in the evening. Now, I'm a bit of a nervous patient, and also local anesthetic works very slowly on me. It does work, but it takes longer than with most people - so usually I'm in pain when I have the procedure... and then half an hour later my mouth is totally numb.

I advised Dr Kibble of this. He took me through into the surgery. I was surprised that there was no dental assistant - just me and the dentist. Making small talk, I commented on the fact that he had a TV positioned in front of the dentist's chair.

"Yes, well, I live here," he said.

I thought he was joking. I laughed.

"I sleep in this chair actually."

I laughed again. Until it became very, very obvious that he was telling the truth. This was decidedly odd, and didn't sound particularly hygienic, but by this point I was strapped in with bits of cotton wool shoved into my mouth. Not literally strapped in. Although it wouldn't have surprised me by the end of the appointment.

Dr Kibble injected me with anesthetic. Suddenly I felt my heart absolutely racing, although I wasn't more nervous than your average patient who's alone in a room with a strange man who sleeps in his dentist's chair. OK, fair point. But my heart was really, really racing. I wondered if I'd had some sort of reaction to the injection. So I told Dr Kibble:

"I don't want to alarm you, but my heart's beating really fast."

"Yes," Dr Kibble said. "It will. I've injected you with adrenaline. It will make the anesthetic work faster."

Over the next hour (I was in there a long time), I learned the following things about Dr Kibble:

• He is legally allowed to buy nitrous oxide (laughing gas) because he is a dentist. He does indeed buy it and puts it in his car to make it go faster.
• Because he is half-Chinese, he refers to himself as "the Chinky dentist". This made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. As if having your mouth shoved with cotton wool, your teeth drilled to fuck, being injected with borderline-legal substances and being alone with a possible psychopath wasn't enough, he had to top it all by being vaguely politcally incorrect.
• He wanted to garner my opinions on whether or not it was OK to ask patients out on a date.

Still, he was cheap.

But after moving to Bethnal Green, I didn't go back. Though to be honest, I've never yet met a normal London dentist. Perhaps it's all the mercury fillings they deal with, sending them all bonkers.