It may surprise you to hear that I would rather go to the dentist than the hairdresser. Just about. At least you aren’t required to make banal conversation with the junior shampooist, discuss where you are going for your holiday or listen to remarks about movement, choppiness or product. (Mostly on account of not being able or encouraged to talk at all. Good luck with that one). For the uninitiated, or bald, product means industrial quantities of sticky gunk is applied to your locks ensuring that your very expensive hair do will look as though you have rolled it in egg whites within twenty four hours. Maximum.

In an unsuccessful attempt to recreate a beautician feeling my dentist has even invested in a fluffy blanket in which to cocoon her patients whilst they submit to her ministrations. The hygienist, bad cop to good cop, doesn’t even pretend. Her ‘I have to be cruel to be kind’ is up there with ‘There’s a cheque in the post’ and I hardly know the girl’ in the scale of Great Lies of All Time. In an attempt to at least have the psychological upper hand I tell her that as she works, I am composing an article about her sadism for international release. Adding that if you have already said ‘We’re nearly there’ at least ten times you begin to lose credibility. Not even a blush.

I also announced that following a recent significant birthday I would no longer be investing the annual GNP of a minor African nation in my teeth that has been my practice up to now. I doubt, I announce, that I will live long enough to reap the benefit and what bliss never to have to use those wretched TePes frantically before every appointment in a pathetic attempt to convince them that this has been a twice daily habit since early childhood. They never fall for it. Obviously. Like the parents of a wilful toddler they have seen it all before and aren’t going to take any notice of today’s tantrum. For which, secretly, I thank them. Without their care and persistence I would have been reduced to a liquid diet years ago (and you can keep your thoughts to yourself on that one). I have carried out my threat and now we can go back to having a wonderful laugh. You really are more fun than the hairdresser. And better looking.