Lisa turned to me last night and said "Why is everything going wrong for us at the moment?". I’d just knocked over a glass of water at the time, but to be honest, I don’t think that was the only disaster she was referring to. Obviously the bleeding mother-in-law is my main concern at the moment, but as it happens, she’s not the only one losing face in a literal fashion. Whilst eating my lunch on Monday, some of my teeth fell out. Well, one of my teeth fell out. Partially.

To be honest, it was the first time I’d had a chip in my mouth since I started my latest diet, so naturally I swallowed it without thinking. In fact I didn’t realise what had happened until I swept my tongue around my mouth to clear out the remnants of chocolate salad, and nearly speared it on the jagged remains of a tooth. The corner had chipped off one of my premolars, leaving me with the kind of fang rarely seen outside of an episode of Twilight.

At the time, I thought I’d lost a filling (and not just the one in my sandwich), so I phoned my dentist and managed to get an appointment for yesterday, but as it transpired, it was just a bit of my tooth. The dentist took advantage of modern technology by sticking a pen-cam into my mouth, taking a photo, and displaying it on the TV screen in front of me, so that I could see what he was talking about. Unfortunately I had a foggy eye-shield on at the time, so it was all a bit hazy in more ways than one.

The upshot of it all was that the dentist decided to do nothing. He said that to fill the gap would require the drilling away of healthy tooth, and with no decay there, it would be unethical. And besides, I’m now far better equipped to tear antelopes to pieces with my teeth, which can only be a good thing.

With my mouth passed fit for purpose, I returned home from work yesterday to the news that Toby had walked off with one of our cordless phones, dialled a number, and then hidden the handset. Lisa had already checked the toilet, the bin and her boots, but the phone was nowhere to be found, and she was slightly concerned that he'd called Australia. Which would have been ironic, as they're all out searching for stuff themselves.

I disconnected the phone line, in an attempt to terminate the call, and began to join in the hunt. At which point Lisa's Mum decided to do her bit by bending down to search under the sofa cushions, and promptly started another nose bleed.

Now, I'm not saying that Lisa doesn't like the sight of blood, but at one point she was attempting to assist her mother by standing in another room and shouting messages of support through the wall. Fortunately, we managed to get our joint act together somehow, and whilst I fetched the kitchen roll, tissues and bucket, Lisa rummaged around in the freezer for a cold compress. The hospital had recommended frozen peas, but we're quite middle class, so we went with roasted Mediterranean vegetables.

Within twenty minutes, the bleeding had stopped, and the only permanent damage was psychological. Lisa's Mum took it easy with a glass of water while I scrubbed the carpet and handed out unqualified medical advice with an unjustified air of authority. An hour later, we'd calmed down a bit. At which point I knocked over the glass of water and ruined a magazine. It's not that everything's going wrong, it's just that nothing's going right.