Teeth an endless, expensive ball-ache

MAINTAINING a healthy set of teeth is a painful lifelong struggle that will leave you massively out-of-pocket, it has emerged.

People with teeth have criticised the way they break, make your gums hurt and how they have created jobs for scary dentists who make you pay through the nose just for a check-up.

Teeth user Nathan Muir said: “First they fall out, then the big ones grow in wonky. Who designed these things? Not the guy who made the iPod, I bet.

“It would be much easier if we all had beaks instead of pearly whites. Plus mums and dads would save some pennies by binning the whole tooth fairy schtick.”

Fellow teeth owner Nikki Hollis said: “Sharks have loads of teeth and they never go to the dentist. Maybe it’s because they can’t drink Coke underwater.

“I asked my dentist what she thought but she didn’t understand. Mind you she was giving me a root canal at the time. Which proves my point about how bad teeth are.”

Tooth Wayne Hayes said: “I am high maintenance and I will ruin your f**king life.”

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

A day in the busy life of Boris Johnson

BEING prime minister is what we at Eton used to call an ‘awful fag’. Here’s what a typical day consists of for me, Boris Johnson, the greatest PM since Churchill.

9am: Roll over and press the snooze button just in time to miss Today on Radio 4. The news is bloody depressing these days. Best to give it a swerve, to use the rugger parlance.

10am: Put my pyjamas and other dirties in a bag outside the door. No idea how it works, but somehow they always come back clean. Been like that since I was six. Tea and toast.

11am: Walk in St James’ Park holding a cup of coffee. Plenty of time to think about this virus malarkey later.

12.30 – 1.30pm: Tuck! Best meal of the day. Seconds of spotted dick.

2pm: Bloody red boxes arrive. Heaven knows what I’m supposed to do with them. I’m making a red bus with mine. Something to do during lockdown, I suppose.

3pm: Phone won’t stop ringing. Hide in Downing Street’s big fridge for a couple of hours.

4pm: Bollocks! Cummings is in the soup! All hands on deck! Call emergency cabinet meeting: Operation Cover Dom’s Arse. 

5pm: Intensive rehearsals and script readings with key cabinet members. Frantically get to work on vague and unconvincing speech telling everyone to ‘move on’.

6pm: Disastrous press conference. Not my fault, obviously. The questions were too hard.

8pm: Get bollocked by Cummings on phone. Get the feeling I’m starting to go off this whole ‘being PM’ business a bit.