There are two things that Martin Amis and I have in common: both of us revere Saul Bellow - he's written about his affection for the Chicago grandmaster, and I've bored countless with my fervour for anything Bellovian. If it was just a literary quirk, I'd be content, except it's not, it goes further, we are both doomed to expensive dentistry.

By the close of this week, I will have handed over £850 for the rebuild and restoration of one tooth. I love that tooth, as I love them all with the same unbridled passion; still the amount of money invested in my wounded pre-molar would nearly qualify it as an heirloom if I had kids.