Ain’t that the tooth

I do enjoy a good argument, and I have to say that I picked my spouse well when it came to enjoying a good argument together. I don’t know if she’s quite up to my level, but she’s definitely capable enough to land a solid punch to the jaw every now and then. If that’s even an accurate boxing metaphor – I realise as I type that I have not a clue.

I’ve realised today that her secret trump card is telling me I have something in my teeth, because I can’t immediately verify and I don’t quite know if she’s telling the truth or not. Easiest way to win any discussion, because play has to stop immediately while the team captain goes off in search of a mirror and a length of floss.

And it would be just as effective even if there wasn’t actually anything on my teeth, because it’s the threat of the thing that’s the thing. But would she lie? I don’t think so, she’s a very honourable woman, but I absolutely would and you can never be quite sure about people can you?

Just the possibility of a dental besmirching is enough to take the wind out of my sails, stop me in my tracks, and other tortured analogies. I probably shouldn’t give the secret away, but I’m not sure she reads this. And besides, I think I’ve got something in my teeth, my wife said so.