Tempit Figit

I took my seat in the Tipper Chair, a big blue bib was secured round my neck and whoosh I was up-ended.
The protective glasses were placed over my eyes, the curing light switched on then Mr. W. probed my open mouth with his sharp instrument.
A bloke on the radio was asking questions, I was unable to answer as Mr. W. had his hand in my mouth.
Why is it that all dentists choose Radio 2?
Any dentists out there please elucidate me.
Mr.W. took two impressions, one of my top row and the second of my bottom.
Not my bottom bottom but my lower jaw.
My mouth was wide open for as long as it took for the squashy blue stuff to dry and for Jeremy Vine to complete an interview and put on another piece of music.
Have you noticed that when its imperative to keep the mouth open wide there is always a neurotic need to talk or swallow?
If you’re mouth is open whilst you’re reading this please don’t feel the need to answer back.
I could feel the back of my throat opening and closing as it was dealing with a build up of saliva, I was anxious that it was interfering with the process and giving the wrong impression.
Mr. W. studied the ‘trays’ and said they were okay.
The gum shields were pulled out slowly, for a split second it felt like every last tooth was being dragged out with it
I was recommended to have my teeth bleached. It’s not my style, I don’t like the idea of the ‘gel’, the cost or the effect of blindingly white teeth but Mr. W said that I would benefit from the treatment as I was getting a little long in the tooth. I shall get my ‘trays’ back next week, then I will be given the ‘gel’ and will monitor my own brightness.
I have to be careful I don’t end up looking like Simon Cowell
Mr. W. then squeezed Tempit into the lower left 5. A mouthful of meusli had broken a bit off my filling.
I think fillings and tooth caps are like light bulbs. When one goes they all go.
The Tibetans believe that when a parent dies a tooth dies in sympathy, in my case its not to do with a parent, I lost a back tooth when I left Auntie BeeB now, having left Uncle UKtv, I’m having trouble with my other back tooth.
Mr. W. stepped on the lever and the chair was set in motion, I sat up, took off the bib rinsed my mouth with green minty mouthwash and spat it out into the silver tube.
Job done.
I am going back next Wednesday to collect me trays and have a nice session with the hygenist.
I must be the only person in the world who likes having her teeth sandpapered.
I think its lying on my back, unable to figit, my mouth open, but out of action.
Nobody can talk to me or me to them.
Bliss.

I drove home and Jim and I walked Jackson through the leaves.
We met an Alsation called Minxy who Jackson flirted with for longer than we had time for.
Jim drove off to Hornchurch and I went to Waitrose to buy sink and drain cleaner. I think too many sycamore leaves have clogged up our drains.
I drove into town unloaded the car, bunged in the washing then jumped on the 239 to Victoria. Two stops on the tube and out into a lovely November Tuesday.
I walked to Covent garden, read the paper and met my chum of 42 years.
We had a bowl of olives and a coffee in a subterranean bar off Long Acre.Then we walked down Endell street to The Shaftsbury Theatre to pick up our tickets for HAIRSPRAY.
The girl at the box office took out a bunch of tickets, another Barnett had booked, I declined the wadge and opted for just the two in row ‘M’.
We had supper in a little bistro and was served by a young woman from Bela Rus, her home town was Omsk.
Whenever we asked my Grandmother where we came from she always said the same thing; ‘Imsk, Minsk, Pinsk or Omsk.’ She had no idea, she was only 6 months old,in the 1890’s, when she was thrown out of her village.
We left our immigrant waitress a big tip to show her our solidarity.
Row ‘M’ was perfect. Lots of leg room and a great view of the stage. HAIRSPRAY starts up in the stratosphere and carries on until there is no more air to breathe. It is exhilirating, fun, witty, sharp, bright, I grinned from start to finish.
The cast are strong and Michael Ball is utterly adorable, his charisma hits the back wall and ricochets round the auditorium right back at ya.
Mel Smith is down beat, but still ok, and the young leads are terrific.
The film is good but this is better.
As the last curtain call walked down stage the audience rose to its feet, we clapped along as Michael Ball shimmied in his fat suit and the the kids danced liked demons.
If you are able to go, go. It’s a smiley evening. I thought the row of dancing dance students in front of us were going to jump out of their leotards.
A quick step onto Shaftsbury Avenue and within 5 minutes a Number 19 came into view, described today as LONDON’s GLAMOUR BUS in London’s Evening Standard owing to the posh totty that mount it daily, myself included!.
Walking back from the bus stop the smell of the river was heady in the cold night air.
Today I discovered another blue plaque. Sheraton,the furniture maker, lived on Wardour street.
Just imagine whilst he was shaving his legs I was doing me voice overs just round the corner.
Doesn’t tempit figit?
It’s too late to continue.
night night, don’t forget too share your bangers and tails.
cul8tr.