Dentyl Mental

I've recently become a big fan of Dentyl mouthwash. Its first big tick is that it comes as this weird dual layer liquid, reminiscent of something you'd find in a child's chemistry set; something probably marked "Corrosive, Do Not Swallow Under Any Circumstances Whatsoever". Wantonly swilling it round your mouth smacks of a sort of a devil-may-care attitude, a manly bravado that says: "You think I won't drink it? Just watch me, you squares!" ("Egad! I do believe he's actually drinking it Cuthbert!").

Of course, it's once you've spat it down the sink that the real fun begins. Dentyl's main innovation is that it claims to "reveal the causes of bad breath", right there, in the sink, as little globules of pink stuff. Yes, that's right, you can actually see your own diseased flob. This is obviously very satisfying, as you can imagine. It's very much akin to looking down to see you've made a really massive, perfectly shaped poo (actually, I've got into the habit of "looking down" far too much recently - curse you Gillian McKeith, you fake doctory poo-fiend).

I particularly like the TV advert for Dentyl - a couple are standing by the sink in their bathroom, and the woman - who's been using Dentyl - covers her male companion's eyes to stop him seeing her diseased flob. Of course, the idea of seeing diseased flob, especially his own, very much appeals to the man, and the advert ends with him excitedly picking up the bottle, before presumably using it and spending a good five minutes proudly analysing the muck he's produced in the sink.

That's the trouble with blokes - we're far too proud of the disgusting things we produce out of our bodies. I'm actually disappointed now when my daily Dentyl swill doesn't produce the usual amount of globby pink stuff. Really I should be pleased that my mouth isn't quite as rotten as the day before, but somehow I feel like I've failed in my duty as a man.

Who'd have thought mouthwash could be so fascinating?