Dear Sir,

I presume you are a ‘sir’ because women don’t feature very prominently in dentistry. Please don’t misunderstand me. Women make fabulous dental hygienists, assistants and receptionists, but when it comes to rolling up your sleeves and getting to grips with the fetid stink of trench mouth, only a man can do this job.

It is unlikely that you will find anyone better suited to this position than I. If there is one thing I know, it is teeth. My mouth is packed with 27 of the clever little buggers, all of them genuine originals. Incisives, bicustards, mortars, canines, felines. The lot of them in perfect nick.

Although I am not a qualified dentist per se, I have removed the front teeth of several people who were suffering from various problems. There was this one time when I had to punch a guy 14 times in the mouth before he told me that he no longer had a problem.

I also know a lot about the different kinds of dental diseases. Like plague. Which is carried by rats, although why anyone would want to put a rat in their mouth, I don’t know. And tartar, which isn’t much fun on your teeth but it does go nicely with a well-grilled kingklip. As for receding gums, well, my position has always been that if they want to go, don’t try to stop them. They will be back when they see what kind of world it is out there.

Apart from hurting people and laughing my ass off on nitrous oxide, the thing I most like about dentistry is the money. You get someone to lie on their back and in less than an hour you’ve made enough to fly to Mauritius. Not even prostitution, which also involves rooting around in body cavities, pays that well.

Please don’t worry about providing me with equipment. I have my own Black & Decker drill, long-nose pliers and metal scraper thingy.

Yours sincerely,

Dr Ben Trovato