By Jim Kerr, lead singer in Simple Minds

“What’ve you been listening to Jim, have you heard any good new music recently?”

You’d expect that the first thing a dentist would ask about would be your teeth. Right?

Not mine!

A singer also. Performing Bowie covers, including a stellar version of Life On Mars – outside of his much in demand practice at least he hardly lives up to the professional stereotype.
And well, with him being such a massive fan of the legendary British pop icon, he laughed when I recently queried him – on which period of Bowie’s career he would have most liked to work on those famous teeth?

“His teeth?” He asked, initially looking quite puzzled.
“Would have been your first ‘brush’ with fame had that happened.” I quipped.

“I would have worked on his teeth for free! ‘Let’s Dance’ onwards, his perfect teeth shone more brilliantly than the spotlights above his head. During the Ziggy Stardust period, he had these little fang – like teeth.
But come on! Forget about teeth. I would much rather have worked on a song with him. Music is my main passion and for me he was the greatest. Do you agree?”

“He was one of the greatest for sure. But young Little Richard was the greatest for me, even Bowie agreed with that. But hey, you are always welcome to work on my teeth for free?”

The subsequent bill confirmed that he was not so keen on my offer. The shock of the total amount caused more discomfort than the hours spent with a drill in my mouth. I’m still numb as a result.

Over all I have had very little need for surgery visits of any kind – so far in my life. I don’t take it for granted, I am aware how lucky that makes me to date and my heart goes out to all less fortunate than me.

I do nevertheless recall being in Dublin many years ago and being obliged to have a medical examination for insurance purposes.

Considering that I’ve taken a tumble from the lip of the stage more than once, you can understand why that might be important.
The last time it led to a chipped tooth, a few stitches, and a broken collar – bone. Although the pain was substantial, it was nothing compared to the humiliation I felt while lying on the arena floor – resembling a wrestler tossed out of the ring.

Anyway, back to Dublin where, after being quizzed by the Irish Doctor on my lifestyle, and in turn divulging that I hadn’t touched drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, or for that matter – eaten any meat – for decades.

Hearing this, the portly Doctor sitting across the desk from me, looked up and immediately began shaking his head before letting out a rather stern warning.

“You’ll soon die if you continue living like that.”

“Die? Of what Doc?”

“You’ll die of freakin’ boredom Mr Kerr.”