Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?

So I finally pluck up the courage bite the bullet can't stand the toothache for a moment longer and pay a long-overdue visit to the dentist. The usual geezer must have either retired or gone private, because in his place is a beautiful young Polish girl called Tanya or something.

Any road up, Vanya has a good root around amongst my bicuspids and that before telling me to "reense", then asking, "You vant me to pull eet for you?"

I almost choke on my mouthwash. "Pardon?"

"Your premolar, eet ees rotten. Do you vant me to pull eet now or vait for eet to fall out by eetself?"

"Er, is there nothing you can do to save eet? It, I mean. Save it. Please?"

"Vell..." Her flashing blue eyes glaze over momentarily, as if her mind has been transported to another world. "I suppose ve could try a root canal treatment. Do you vant to go private or NHS?"

"What's the difference?"

"About seeks months."

I sigh, close my eyes, lie back and think of Scotchland. Irina checks off my remaining teeth, muttering under her breath and giggling. "Amalgam, Uncle Vlad; MOD, Aunt Margaritte; composite, Cousin Monica; scale and Polish, seester Gabriella; meessing, pity; root feelling, feerst class upgrades..." Finally, she glances up and those ice-blue eyes pierce my very soul. "I vant to see you again."

Cool. "Transformers is on tonight at the Odeon. Shall we call it a date?"

"I don't theenk my husband vould approve." She produces a syringe the size of a pepperpot.

"Now open vide, thees may hurt a beet."