Yesterday in work, my bosses tooth fell out.
Literally fell out of her head. She was just sitting there, waffling on about her ‘hormones being at her’ whatever the fuck that means (or whatever the fuck I’m supposed to do with the information..) and her tooth fell out. It first appeared as if she was struggling with a particularly tricky Tic Tac, and only when it rattled on the desk did I realise what had actually happened.
That soon shut her up. But I mean…who’s teeth actually fall out anymore? What’s she got? Fucking scurvy?
She’d want to get a few limes into her.
Still reeling from the shock of the weeks first old timey throwback, I jumped on the Luas today (or should I say I ‘hopped on the tram’ to keep in line with the theme of the post) at Heuston to bail up to the Epicurean Food Hall for the traditional Friday Lunchtime Kebab. Om nom nom. Then something happened that nearly put me off my impending succulent Turkish feast. At Smithfield, some old dude got on. And he had a GOITRE! Can you believe that? A fucking goitre!!
It was about the size of a tennis ball, and it stuck out the side of his neck like some kind of extra head.
Have any of you ever seen someone with a real life goitre? It’s impossible not to look at it. Good job he was standing with his back to me, an the thing stood out a fucking mile from the rest of his head. I could peruse it’s sickening hideousness with out any feelings of guilt.
Teeth falling out, goitres….good job I was on the Luas. Otherwise I would have been convinced that I had ‘quantum leapt’ into some erstwhile era some three score years past.
Or else fallen asleep on a train and woken up in Mayo.
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Was it her only tooth?
ye, she called it ‘chomper’ and used it solely to open tins of baked beens
Were they has beens?
I saw a goiter as a child and it has never left me.