My false teeth are killing me

My false teeth are killing me

Two English gentlemen are commuters, using the Tube to the City. They get on and off at the same stations, and having done it for years they occasionally nod greetings or even exchange a “good morning.”

One of them looked really unhappy one day and the other said “I know we haven’t been introduced but if you don’t mind me saying it you do look a bit peaky.” “My false teeth are killing me.”

“Hmmm. If you let me have a good look I may be able to help you.” “Oh please do…” “Give me a day or two.” With this they parted. Two days later the sufferer was handed a package with false teeth in it. He tried them and was astonished to find they were a great improvement but “a little on the tight side.” Saying “Don’t worry, I’ll try again,” two days later he offered another set, but alas the reaction was “Much better, but rather on the loose side.” “Ah, I think I’ve got it! Let me try just once more.”

Sure enough, two days later he handed over a set saying “I think these will really be just right.” Putting them in, the sufferer was astonished to find they really were a very good fit. “Thank you so much. These are just right. You must be a wonderful dentist to be able to get false teeth to fit so well just by looking at them!” Laughing modestly the man replied “Oh I’m not a dentist. I’m a funeral director.”


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