Thursday 2nd February 1989   Morning surgery 10:59

My Dad had just finished dealing with another sore throat.
“What did you notice about Mrs Wynne, Dennis?”
“She had a normal sore throat.”
“Yes, obviously. Was there anything else?”
“Her glands were swollen?”
“Not really. I didn’t mean that.” My Dad waited for my next answer.
“I don’t remember anything else.”
“You have got to learn to be more observant, Dennis. Didn’t you notice Mrs Wynne’s teeth? She has perfect teeth. Two sets of perfect teeth. She is married to Richard Wynne, the dentist.”
I suppose she did have rather noticeable teeth but I wasn’t going to say anything.

“Dennis, I often wonder if Mr Wynne, the dentist, married Mrs Wynne because she’s got perfect teeth or if she’s got perfect teeth because she married Mr Wynne.” My Dad chuckled to himself. He seemed to think that this was very funny.

Perfect teeth.
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