Is it safe?

So I went to the dentists and sure enough, I was right, restoration does indeed mean a filling, or a filling replacement as it turned out. I hopped up onto the table and told the Doc I was ready to take a hit for team D. He looked puzzled, but set about filling my gob with anaesthetic and as I arched my back and clenched my sweaty fists under his iron like grip, while he set to work with his drill, it occurred to me how I ever allowed a dentist drill inside my mouth without anaesthetic back in the old days. More afraid of the needle than the drill I would say to the doc to do his worst, I wanted old school dentistry and I expect that this is the primary reason I’m now afraid of the bastards; every trip would mean a re-enactment from The Marathon Man…
5 minutes later, I’m off up from the table and shaking my dentist firm and steady hands with my shaky ones, apologising to him for nearly ripping head off in fright.

I shuffle out and hand over my credit card to the receptionist…three eight eight she says brightly!!…and I’m thinking, bloody hell, it’s been a long time, the last time I visited a dentists he GAVE MEa lolypop and now I’m giving him almost four hundred quid, but fuck it, it’s over and I’m outya here. I’m looking at the receipt as I’m walking home, still shocked by how much my five minutes of pain has cost me and realise that I’ve been charged, not £388.00 but £3.88p…My sister reckons, when I told her, they musta thought I looked like some Chav (Council House And Violent) and it’s true I did have my Burberry cap on, my gold chain and signet ring but I dunno, I think they just fucked up, but I’m not complaining. Well I am, ‘sos it hurt, well, it didn’t, but I’m still moaning…..but…yeah…like, but..no...