Well...
Nearing the end of an all night drinking binge, I passed out landing on my face. I awoke moments later spitting teeth. Once i realised what they were, and shock had set in, I set about picking all the little pieces up and examining my new gashed eye socket and jaggedy sharks teeth. One tooth was clearly hanging by a piece of flesh & was extremely painful to touch.

Ended up, 5am, pissed as a lark stumbling into A&E, blood pouring from my mouth and a large gash above my eye, all the time being very carefull not to spill a whisky glass, full of milk and the many shattered bits of my teeth.

The doctor dressed my cuts and scrapes, but I stupidly had to ask him if he could do anything for the teeth. He flicked the dangleing tooth as hard as he could and said "I'm a doctor, not a dentist!"

When I sobered up around 9am, still without sleep, but with the glass of milky teeth, I luckily saw my dentist. He confirmed that I'd f*ucked my teeth up and that one that the doctor examined, had actually snapped at the root and was only held there by the nerve, hence the sheer bloody agony!

I got to know my dentist pretty well over the next few months, he went skiing at least twice a year, and retired soon after, probably with all the money I payed to get my teeth fixed. You can't see the damage now, Hollywood Cheesy Smile! Dentists aren't scary, they are outstanding!
( 42 Loves Teh Funphenschnaffles, Wed 8 Nov 2006, 20:54, Reply)