Entering a Central London bar with my mate, I stopped in my tracks. Ahead of me was a hideously ugly woman. Hitting fifty with huge blonde and ginger hair extensions, she was the sort of old scrubber you'd find behind the bar at The Queen Vic. I clutched my companion's hand and hissed "That's xxxxx - you know, the one who ran off with your mate Caroline's husband." Edging our way around the emporium of delights we ordered drinks. "Hideous, isn't she?" I said, taking charge of a raspberry martini. "You wouldn't think he'd leave Caroline for someone like that." My mate shrugged. "It's her mouth," she said, sagely. "Those buck teeth. Men look at them and think about blow jobs." As I choked on this information, my mate used her champagne flute to demonstrate why men found looking down on buck teeth a turn on. She looked like Thumper wrestling a carrot from the ground. I have never considered the aphrodisiac qualities of a large overbite before. It's always struck me as rather precarious. How can one chew steak, for example? I finished my drink in one. To steady the nerves. Suddenly the object of our musings disappeared. "Gone to steal someone else's husband," I said. "Gone to scrub her knees," said my mate.