Crowned Cavities

Crowned Cavities

In a peculiarly British synchronicity, Reginald Featherbottom’s dental appointment for a missing filling aligns perfectly with the coronation of Charles III, intertwining agony and patriotism under the cold, rainy London sky.

In the quaint little hamlet of West Ealing, in the year of our Lord 2023, a man named Reginald Featherbottom found himself in a bit of a pickle. You see, Reginald had a dentist appointment scheduled for the 6th of May, at the ungodly hour of 11am, precisely at the same moment as the coronation of Charles III was due to commence. Now, Reginald was a good and loyal subject of Her Majesty’s kingdom, but he also possessed an achingly empty chasm in his molar where a filling once sat.

Thus, torn between his patriotic duty and the merciless assault on his oral cavity, Reginald trudged off to the dentist that fateful day. The sky was a melancholy shade of grey, and the heavens unleashed a deluge of rain upon London, as if to remind the populace that nothing could ever truly dampen the British spirit.

Reginald, however, wore a countenance that could only be described as a mixture of agony and disapproval, a human embodiment of the dreary weather.

As Charles III entered Westminster Abbey, his royal behind making first contact with the hallowed throne, Reginald simultaneously found himself reclining in the dentist’s chair, clad in a bib that bore a striking resemblance to the Queen Mother’s doilies. The irony of the situation did not escape our hapless protagonist.

The dentist, a stout fellow with a penchant for tweed and an enthusiasm for dentistry that bordered on the psychotic, was Dr Percival Codswallop. His assistant, the equally devoted Edna, was a diminutive woman with an uncanny ability to discern the exact moment to suction the patient’s saliva.

Both the dentist and his assistant were, like the rest of the nation, transfixed by the coronation broadcast. The flat screen television mounted on the ceiling played the majestic ceremony live, as Dr Codswallop and Edna went about drilling and filling Reginald’s tooth with the same pomp and circumstance, despite the persistent patter of rain against the windows.

As Charles III was anointed with holy oil and draped in ermine, the dental duo performed their own consecration of Reginald’s mouth with antiseptic rinse and a generous dollop of temporary filling material. With each stage of the coronation, the drilling and filling process echoed its rhythm, as though the two events were mystically intertwined.

And so it was, that as Charles III was officially proclaimed King of England, Dr Codswallop triumphantly withdrew his drill, wiped his brow, and declared, “Reginald, old chap, officially your filling is done!”

Reginald, now part of a peculiarly British synchronicity, gargled and spat into the porcelain basin, wondering if perhaps there was a smidgen of poetic justice in this uncanny alignment of events.

And as he exited the surgery, his newly filled tooth throbbing in time with the royal fanfare, Reginald Featherbottom couldn’t help but grin – albeit gingerly – at the curious way the world sometimes worked, even on a cold and rainy day.

All images were generated using DALL.E 2 (Open AI)