It does what?

Having already converted the family into disciples of the only toothpaste to sound like an intellectually challenged member of the Nation of Islam (RetarDEX), my sister, the dentist in-waiting, has moved on to Phase 2 and now launched a campaign exclusively directed at my teeth. I am the proud recipient of a state of the art electric toothbrush. The futuristic contraption resembles a piece of laboratory equipment with appendages that wouldn't appear out of place on a NASA lunar module and boasts 'unique 3D Excel technology: 40,000 in-and-out pulsations per minute and 8,800 side-to-side oscillations.'

Has it made a difference? With only seven days of power charged brushing behind me, the reaction's been staggering: people are stopping me in the street asking for my autograph; drivers have to flick their rear-view mirrors because of the glare; babies are being cured by a simple glance.

Will it continue? If I can remember to charge it! The power ran out while I was brushing yesterday and I was forced to downgrade to my meagre manual toothbrush. My gums cringed with embarrassment at the paltry 'in-and-out pulsations' and 'side-to-side oscillations' my biceps tried to muster up. My teeth openly wept at the lack of a pressure sensor. My tongue missed the soothing caress of the ‘FlexiSoft®’ bristles.

I wonder if you can tell I’ve just finished a set of nights?