The Shaggy Blog Story so far:
Chapter one by Josie Long
Chapter two by Marcus Brigstocke
Chapter three by Isy Suttie
Chapter four by Rob Deering
Chapter five by Richard Herring
Chapter six by Craig Hill
Chapter seven by Jim Bowen
Chapter eight by Paul Sinha
Chapter nine by James Sherwood
Chapter ten by Justin Moorhouse
Chapter 11 by Lucy Porter
‘The Dentist’. That’s what we called him. Actually, he was Johnny Malone, a low-rent gangster whose signature torture was pulling out informants’ teeth. Though recently he’d diversified into giving botox injections, collagen lip implants and LA-style bleaching. He was also prepared to take NHS patients, so for a gangster he was a pretty decent sort. Many underworld types who’d been sent to him for punishment were delighted to find that he could correct their overbite and fit them with veneers.
The Dentist was my sister’s pimp, so we had history. His office was a room above the KFC and next to the gym. It used to be an office supplies outlet, but the guy who rented it previously had pursued his crazy dream of opening a shop that sold only paperclips. The floor was strewn with the aborted experiments of Mr Dandfleece – particularly purple and yellow paperclips that had never sold and made the carpet look like someone had done a sick after eating parma violets.
I had to buy my sister’s freedom and as I crunched my way across the carpet, I fixed him with my evilest stare. A stare much eviler than any stare I had ever given before to anyone ever. Gosh, it was well evil I don’t mind telling you.
I could tell that I had him on the metaphorical ropes as he dropped the contents of his KFC ‘Mum’s Night Off’ Bucket (Viennetta subject to supplement) and uttered the most chilling sentence I’ve ever heard …
Tomorrow: Shazia Mirza continues the story.