Prestigious granny MBE had all her teeth taken out so she could have falsies.
It’s about learning another language when they send you off to ARCachon in France. You never know who’s going to be there unless you have an exchange. An ideal reciprocity is to go with someone from boarding school.
The chances of going to France to see your dentist is like a happy coincidence of a small world. Mr Bandage is an Edinburgh private photographer dentist who is always fun to visit for he writes your name on your toothbrush with a drill and then with paste he fills it in. He is fun but who made him? A stutter is like a drill in action, though it’s really time to go. Only one tooth at the bottom at the front is in the way, overcrowding setback in its own row. It’s going to be sorted out in France. Mr Bandage’s pop up administering assistant is *actually *Harold *Shipman.
Do you want to be a (movie) star.
Sweet Charlotte has you for a fortnight and it’s all sunny and careful about not being sunburned. Your imminent dental treatment, unbeknownst to you is going to have identity put on your lifetime schedule. It is a local anaesthetic, and you see everything. You are going to lose your stutter, and have a lookalike set of teeth put in which make you unidentifiable.
Boilersuit callroom ‘Mummy’ meets you back at Edinburgh Airport (she had just got off the same plane) as a VIP flown by accompaniment. She appears to be deranged by speaking to you in pigeon English. You are dumb as a foreigner. On morphine with a clenched jaw, of course you are. You cannot answer back for several weeks, by which the prodigal establishment has been fixed of your exchanged return. When you regain the ability to speak, your stutter has gone, proving at least you are not the person you got back to.
Who but your (new) sister can vouch for you.
The dual ID is strictly temporary for of course you blithely pass for inversely being who are, except when it ultimately matters (how much is *that doggy) and the draw bridge appears. For a gently example, (pioneer) Do go on (without us). Help yourself. *As if you deserve us.
Can you still blush.
In addition, you left behind a Peter & Paul crime scene. Two little dickie birds sitting on a wall, one named Peter and one named Paul. Fly away Peter, Fly away Paul. Come back Peter, come back Paul.
Replacing a simpleton with a sturdier edition is ideally recast during childhood. An utterly delightful cousin carried on the life of the initial Charlotte who had special needs. She was closed in on with infected mosquitoes by huge, elegant french windows on a hot night and died of malaria though I (sharing) was covered in Petroleum jelly.
Please read this and then look at a picture of John Malkovich’s terrible smiling teeth. #guineapigextra#hollywoodsmilefile