“Hello hello, this is your dentist calling.” It was 7.45 on a grey London morning, and there he was on the phone. “It is time for your check-up.” Was this real? Was I awake, or dreaming it? Was he outside the front door? Only the fact that my dentist is a British Asian with an Indian lilt stopped it from being the opening scene of some sort of slasher movie.
But that’s what a genuine public health system looks like. Dental care, like all other health care in the UK, is free, and the dentists hound you whenever your six-month appointment comes due. It’s a neat little system, based on the inherent paternalism of the NHS — in order to get free care, you have to be registered with a local dentist, and in order to stay registered, you have to go for a regular check-up (thus letting the dentist click over her/his fees from the government).